[ WP ] You 're a robber in a house coming down the stairs with valuable items from the master bedroom . You encounter another robber in the home on your way out ; Write a story about what happens .

*Fuck, I ’ m screwed*, was what I was thinking when I heard the noise. I was sweating and trying to open that damn safe in the bedroom to no avail - stupid YouTube tutorials aren ’ t what they used to be! *Don ’ t try to bite more than you can chew*, I heard my father say. He was right; I wasn ’ t ready to rob a rich dude. Only he didn ’ t know he was giving me burglary advice at that time. I knew I had to get the hell out of here. 
 
 
 I was standing at the top of the stairs - nicked pearl necklaces, jewels and diamond earrings making me look like the most elegant burglar in the world – when I heard those creeking footsteps again! Someone was in the house. These damned wood panels. Only those in old mansions could make such a terrible noise. I stopped my illicit endeavors immediately and looked for another way out. 
 
 
 The creeking grew louder and nearer and I hadn ’ t made my mind up yet. Soon the owner, housemaid or whoever would be finding me like a deer in headlights and that would have been my glorious career as a burglar. Then it hit me. The person didn ’ t turn the lights on; the hallway still lay in perfect darkness. No house owner would do such a silly thing. Another burglar! What are the odds! A plan started to form in my mind. I couldn ’ t help snickering to myself and feeling very clever. 
 
 
 Quick as a weasel I went back to the bedroom, got rid of my black turtleneck and trousers and slipped into the silk negligé left by *Mrs. Rich Dude* on the bed. I hid my torch, boots and clothes under the bed and slipped into the comfortable cushions of the king-size bed. It was a gamble, I knew that. But in my theory there was another burglar coming for the cash in the bedroom safe and when he would see me, the presumed owner, sleeping in the bed, he would be leaving and I could end my day ’ s ( or night ’ s as it was ) work. I closed my eyes the same moment the unknown someone let his light sweep the room. I was so sure that all would go according to plan. 
 
 
 * “ What the bloody hell! ” * a familiar voice yanked me out of my smug self-assuredness. I opened my eyes and saw the familiar face belonging to the familiar voice. *The company you keep…*I heard my idiome-phile father say again from his grave. I sure was friends with a lot of shady figures. 
 * “ What the fuck, Charlie! ” * I said genuinely surprised. My flat mate was standing right in front of me, dressed in a burglar Halloween costume and looking like he had seen the ghost of Christmas past. He had all right to be weirded out as was I but I wasn ’ t going to let him have that. 
 * “ I ’ m fucking this rich dude. What the hell are you doing here looking like the fucking Hamburglar? ” * 
 Charlie wasn ’ t the cleverest guy in the world but I knew he wasn ’ t buying it. 
 * “ I ’ m not the cleverest guy in the world but I ’ m not buying it, Meg, ” * he said, * “ the fucking doorlock was a mess and the ‘ rich dude ’ has been away for three days now. You ’ re here for the same shit as me. ” * 
 * “ Good detective work, Sherlock, ” * I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster. I knew my cover was blown. Time to split the booty and scarper. One thing I learned: Making friends with people like yourself is very bad for the business. 
 
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 **That was my first WP and my first attempt writing fiction in English** 

