Eleven raccoons. One trash can. Zero witnesses — except the Ring camera, the neighbor who saw everything, and the dog who sold them out for a single biscuit. The prize: a half-eaten rotisserie chicken and an untouched casserole, cased over three nights from the storm drain.
The crew was flawless. Big Marv handled the lid. Socks defeated the bungee cord in forty seconds. The lookout on the fence screamed twice — once at a moth, once at his own reflection.
Then Gerald sneezed. A full-body, echo-off-the-garage-doors sneeze that woke the dog, triggered the porch light, and scattered eleven raccoons in eleven directions. Caught red-pawed. Demoted to lookout duty. The crew will be back next Tuesday. They always come back.