[ TT ] You have a gift for talking to inanimate objects . Alongside many perks , it makes you an excellent thief ... but you only steal things that want to be stolen .

`` Get me out of here, I ca n't tolerate that damn printer for another minute.'' 
 
 Bob sat slumped, face buried in his palm. He needed an aspirin, but knew better. The last one complained endlessly about the ephemerality of its existence, screaming all the way down his gut- screaming out his name and cries of help as gastric juices dissolved it into oblivion. The sofa which he was on was more caring, humming a sweet lullaby into Bobby's ears. 
 
 The house croaked. `` I was the one who called you, Bob. The damn clock is too small for you to hear from all the way. But I am getting tired of the bickering between it and the printer. So I howled my loudest, rattling all the condos a mile from here until they started howling for you to make me stop - and here you are. I'm sorry for bringing you out of your cave. But please, for god's sake take one of them away- or better, both of them and give them to some orphanage or dumpster or something. I do n't care, just get them out. I ca n't handle it anymore..'' 
 
 `` Yeah, steal me away Bob'' the printer and the clock chimed simultaneously. 
 
 Bob rarely stepped into the city. He preferred to live out of the land in the hills - with trees, plants, birds - living things that do n't talk. Anything that humans transform with their labor, they curse it with their own personality- voices that Bob can hear, and it almost drove him to insanity. He now lived in the caves outside the city - with nothing for company but the beautiful, incoherent white noise of the wilderness. And the cold barrel of his grandfather's shotgun that he always kept close. 
 
 `` So you're the reason that caused the whole city to howl like a madman?'' Bob says loudly, murderously eyeing the printer and the wall clock. 
 
 `` Keep it down Bob, the homeowners just shifted in their bed.'' The bedroom door at the top of the stairs said in a low, hushed voice. 
 
 `` Keep it down, Bob? You pieces of shit start a noise that can be heard from across the Atlantic and you're asking me to keep it down?'' Bob was almost shouting right now. The door was desperately clasping its hinges, trying to muffle the noise as much lest the owners got up. 
 
 `` Bob, calm down.'' The wise old shotgun, always by his side, said. `` Remember, you've trained yourself. Close your eyes, take a deep breath. Let the voices pass through you, you can transcend this cacophony if you meditate.'' 
 
 `` No, I will not calm down. Not this time. I need to teach these pieces of shit a lesson.'' He looks up to the house - `` Make sure to relay it to every building and every object inside it- make sure it reaches every garage and every vehicle - and everywhere they travel - and tell them to tell it to every warehouse and every ship and every export headed to anywhere in the world. This is what happens when you piss me off - I am the only one who can hear you scream and I will relish every moment of it.'' 
 
 Bob grabbed the printer and the clock, went up to the attic and hid them underneath a pile of cobweb laced boxes. 
 
 The house panicked, almost shuddering. `` What are you doing? The owners are hoarders, they never clean the attic! These two will bicker undisturbed for eternity.'' 
 
 Bob ignored it. 
 
 `` Please Bob, forgive us, we will not anger you again.'' The printer and the clock begged. 
 
 Bob laid some boxes surreptitiously over the two. Their pleas turned into curses- cursing each other over whose fault it was. The bickering had n't stopped by the time Bob stepped out into the front yard - still loud as ever. `` You hear that Bob, that is what I hear every day. Please Bob, do n't leave them here, I'm sorry, Bob - please.'' 
 
 `` You heard that?'' Bob asked the mailbox. It gave a meek yes in acknowledgment, scared. `` Make sure to relay it to every other house around.'' 
 
 `` I'll howl if you leave Bob. I wo n't give you a moment's peace in your life if you do n't take them away..'' the creaky old house was indignant now. It howled loudly, and Bob could hear it all the way to the end of the suburb. But none of the other houses or buildings joined. For the first time in his life, Bob could feel all chatter stop as he walked through - a panic stricken silence he'd never heard before. 
 
 The lone house's defiant howling dissolved into the silence as Bob entered the woods. `` See that?'' Bob grinned at his shotgun. `` Sometimes striking fear is more effective than all that Zen bullshit you spout.'' He kept it by his side as he reached his cave and looked at the vast, silent, sprawl of the city underneath. `` Where did you pick up that hippie nonsense anyway? You're a killing machine for god's sake.'' 
 
 `` I have been used to kill countless people, Bob. And over the years I've realized its not the worst suffering you can inflict upon your fellow man.'' They sit silently for a while as the morning dawns, `` you know that better than anyone else, Bob.'' 
 
 
 
 
 

