The French Man who Stole a Guitar

SMASH!

“What was that? Who is there?” Fred shouted into the darkness.

There was a loud cacophony followed by a malignant French laughter. Fred realized that a man came into his home unheralded and he got up and felt his way through the darkness turning on the light in the hallway and made his way downstairs. The living room window was annulled and pieces of glass were spread out over the living room.

Fred grabbed the nearest object to him which was a blue umbrella, held it up next to his face and walked towards the doorway which led to the kitchen. There was a loud clutter in the kitchen, but when Fred got in there a dark shadow moved out a doorway into a hallway and up the stairs. Fred thought that it was ok because he didn’t have anything valuable in the house other than his guitar.

Fred realized that the guitar was upstairs where the man went. The guitar is orange and yellow, and it is a Gibson LEs Paul. Fred ran as fast as he could up the stairs and into his bedroom where the guitar was. When he turned around he saw the mysterious man. He was very tall and strong, He had a large nose, a curly mustache and triangular beard, and he had hair growing out of his ears.

“That guitar belongs to me now, Fred.” The mysterious French man said sardonically.

“Ummm, no it doesn’t, it’s still mine.” Said Fred.

“Not anymore, hahaha!” And with one wily jump he was out of the window, and into the night.

Immediately following this incident Fred called the police. The police came over and started asking questions. The policeman that interviewed him was a amicable man who was very come throughout the interview.

“What did he look like?”

“He was very tall, he looked strong. He had a large nose a curly mustache and triangular beard; he was bald and had ear hair sticking out a mile. He also had this horrid effluvia that radiated off of him, it made me want to puke.”

“Not him again, that was Jacque Rousseau. He has stolen from twenty houses in the past week, what did he take from you?”

“He took my guitar.”

“How much was it worth?”

“Well money wise it was $1,562, but it belonged to my grand father and my own father.”

“We will try to catch him as soon as we can.”

The police then left, and Fred realized he was in a quagmire. Had had to find this man and stop him. He felt like a buffoon for letting the man take his prized possession. The malefacto crossed the line when he took the guitar, and he was going to pay for it.

Fred was walking down a street in the city, where he noticed a tall many with funny facial features. When the man turned around he immediately noticed who the man was, it was Jacque Rousseau. Immediately Fred ran after him. Jacque was fast though, and new the city well. Every dark alley he ran into was narrow and filled with junk but Rousseau always knew when to jump or duck or side step out of the way. Jacque climbed up a fire escape and into an empty building, quickly Fred followed him.

The room was dark with one light in the ceiling that was dim, and there was no furniture other than a ragged twin sized bed, a multicolored couch, and a fridge and stove. However, when Fred got into the backroom he saw many things, including his guitar which was prostrate on the ground. His guitar was oddly discreet from television sets, drum sets, parts of cars, computers, and an alarm clock. There were also many paltry items scattered throughout the room.

Fred wondered why the man, who lived in a run down apartment, would steal all these valuable items and not even try to make money off of them. Fred reached into his pocket to grab his phone but he heard a loud noise which made him curious, so he went out to see if it was the French man. Standing in the middle of the room was Jacque.

“I’ve been waiting for you Fred,” Jacque said.

“How do you know who I am?”

“I’ve been watching you, every second of everyday.”

“How? ”

“I’ve been standing outside your window, or I would be in your closet or just around your house.”

“Why?”

“You had something I wanted; I have been looking for it for a long time, the guitar.”

“Why did you want the guitar?” As Fred said that he was slipping his hand into his pocket and slowly took out his phone and put it behind him.

“Because it looked cool, it’s very valuable to you, and I had a yen for it.”

“You shouldn’t steal for any reason,” As Fred said this he dialed 911 and called it, keeping his hand behind his back. Fred knew that he didn’t really have to say anything because the police would come anyway. “Yeah, well now I am taking back what is rightfully mine.” Fred turn and ran into the room with all the stuff. He grabbed his guitar and ran back out, but when he got into the room, Jacque wasn’t there.

CRACK! Jacque his Fred over the head with a flower pot he had stolen that day. Fred was on the ground unconscious. Jacque saw that Fred had called 911 because it said so on his phone. This infuriated Jacque and Jacque grabbed the guitar, went to the fire escape, bashed it on the edge so it was broken, and then through what was left of it over the fire escape.

As Jacque walked back into the room the police barged in and arrested Jacque.

“We finally got you.” The Chief said.

“Chief, all the stuff is back here other than the guitar.”

As this was said Jeff got up, and freaked out because his guitar was missing. He looked around for it and when he got to the fire escape he realized the guitar was destroyed.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”