Mary told me a story this week about a woman who couldn’t get into the safe at work, so she called the local prison and had them find someone who was a safecracker and bring him over to break into the safe. I’m not sure if she didn’t know the combination, or if the person who had the combination was out of pocket or what, but that was unimportant: they got into the safe, and the world was, once again, made of donuts.
Mmmmmmm…. donuts… (source:Pixabay)
Did you know a safecracker is called a yegg? Mark that down; it might come in handy someday, like it did here for me.
We lived in an apartment that had a safe in the master bedroom closet. Dad pointed it out, and it became my mission to break into it. Of course, I was six at the time, and had no earthly idea how to get into it. Dad said that maybe I could use a stethoscope and listen to the tumblers as they fell. My Uncle Dick was doing his residency at the time, and we asked if we could borrow his. He was nice enough to come over with it, but it didn’t do much good, because I couldn’t hear anything, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know whether what I heard was a tumbler or something else.
Dad could tell I was getting frustrated, so he suggested we write a letter to the safe company, give them the serial number of the safe, and ask them if, pretty please, we could have the combination. I gave him the required information, and he dashed off a letter to the Melink Safe Company of Toledo, Ohio with our request.
A few days later we received a several-pages-long response from them, basically telling us they didn’t keep information like that, and even if they did the person who had installed the safe had probably changed it, blah blah blah, your guess is as good as ours, rotsa ruck, kid, love, the Melink Safe Company, Toledo, Ohio.
Finally, we had an idea: Since the apartment was a rental, there was a better-than-average chance that the landlord, Mr. Gilbert Delahunty, had it installed, and he might know what the combination was. Thing was, we only saw Mr. Delahunty when he came around to collect the rent, and even then, he rarely stayed around to talk. This time, I would wait with Mom and ask him. Unfortunately, Mr. Delahunty remembered that I was the kid who had set the back porch on fire, and his answer was something that rhymed with “duck cough.”
Maybe we should have called Cook County Jail and had them send over a safecracker.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you each week by Linda Hill and this station. Joey, from Joeyfully Stated provided today’s prompt, and we thank her for that. Now a word from Mister Donut.