Stealth–the key to any great infiltration throughout history. Without stealth things tend to go down like Normandy in World War II, which was why I crept down the stairs as though the fate of the Free World depended on it. Loose floorboards, creaky stairs, and obstacles, both major and minor, stood between me and my goal like the black gate of Mordor stood in the way of Frodo. It was time for sneaking, yes it was, Precious, and the difficulty only made the prize that much more sweet.
Heart pounding so hard it seemed loud enough to wake the dead, I barely breathed and strained my hearing to its limit to ensure no one in the house stirred. Adrenaline coursed through me like a double espresso shot injected directly into my bloodstream, and my hands did a trembling dance while muscles twitched at every small noise.
There it was in front of me: the mother load. I bit the inside of my cheek and continued my agonizingly slow journey, but the hardest part was yet to come. If the physical obstructions weren’t bad enough, the drawer containing my prize would likely announce my presence to the residents of the household, specifically the mutt, and wrathful vengeance would be had if I were discovered. If, that is, I didn’t take the utmost care in opening the thrice-damned thing.
I let out one long, silent exhalation of air, and eased the drawer open with the same care a person takes when removing a poached egg from a saucepan. The drawer safely open and my ragged breathing almost too loud, I removed my bounty. After one silent fist pump later, and the careful closing of the freezer drawer, I stood at the counter and relished in the salted caramel frozen delight. Ice cream tasted best when no children were around to swarm you like a pack of wild beasts, and then proceed to beg like a gauntlet of the slickest talking panhandlers the world ever saw. Tonight was a night for just desserts, and victory was oh, so luscious.