I became a vigilante sworn to protect my family. A Batman with a cricket bat. A superhero with a house violation origin story. I called myself Cricket Batman and ran into the hall swinging every time the cat came in through the flap.
At 5am I found myself out on the street, yelling 'who's there?' at my shift-working neighbour. He replied 'Matt I can see your willy'. He was right. It had popped out the open fly of my jimjams.
The next night I wore them backwards. It felt weird.
As the weeks passed I began to calm down. Life returned to normal.
That was until last week when our house was invaded again. This time the careless burglar left a calling card.
We had been away on holiday for a week. I knew something was wrong the second I opened the door. But before I could investigate I had to rush to the bathroom (as I often have to when I get home).
I'd only just entered the passcode on my phone when I heard a scream from down the hall.
I ran to find my son backing slowly out of our second bathroom. He slowly turned his head and whispered to me "Dad there is a huge turd in that toilet!" He was right. Some one had entered our house while we were away, done their massive business and left without flushing.
Was the assailant still in the house? The evidence certainly smelt fresh. My heart was pounding. I sprinted into the lounge to check if anything was missing. The computers, TV and Xbox were all in place. Which was very lucky for me as I still hadn't gotten round to changing the insurance over.
Then WHOOSH!!! I heard a noise in the master bedroom!
I rushed to find the bedroom curtains flapping in the breeze. The French doors wide open. So that's how the phantom bomber got in and out. We were looking at a well-executed second-storey balcony raid.
I returned to find the family surrounding the crime scene holding their noses.
Newspaper had been used and yet there was paper on the holder. It made no sense.
Two full Duck bottles later the illegal pile was gone. In retrospect I should have checked the date on the paper. Could've been a clue there.
No point in calling the police. They weren't interested in our burglary - what would they care about a reverse turd burglary. Plus I had already flushed the evidence, bleached the entire area and thrown the brush in the neighbour's recycling.
Once again I went to bed with the cricket bat beside the bed. But this time I didn't feel like Cricket Batman. You can't hit someone over the head for using the bathroom.
I lay awake deep into the night , questions spinning around my brain.
Who breaks into someone else's to do that? Why use newspaper when TP is on hand? How did he or she get in through the balcony when only I have the key? Could that foul mess have been there for weeks? Did I do it when I came home late from the pub the night before we left on holiday?
I guess this is one of those mysteries destined to remain unsolved. All I can say is lock your doors and set your alarms - it could happen to you.
