Slipping down to all fours, Chris used the alligator crawl technique to move down the hallway. It was a moonless night, so he didn’t need to worry about illumination coming from outside. From the kitchen door, he peered inside. No one was there. Using the Alabama high-stepper technique to avoid trip wires and obstacles, he entered the kitchen. He held his breath for nearly a minute as he listened for any unusual noise. There was none. The target was there on the counter top. In one smooth motion, he removed his trench knife and slid over to his target.
Suddenly, the kitchen light came on and a voice from the doorway asked, “Chris, what the hell are you doing?”
Chris froze. “I, I, I just wanted a piece of cake.”
His wife put her hands on her hips. “You’re a diabetic. Cake will raise your blood sugar. Besides, the doctor said you have to lose weight. Now put that knife down before you hurt yourself and take off that ski mask. You look ridiculous. Come back to bed.
Rats, ambushed. Abort mission, Chris thought. Tomorrow is another night.