You’re Not Being The Neighbor Mister Rogers Wants You To Be

When I am twenty-one or so, I am still living with my parents. Then, I find an apartment. My boyfriend and his friends agree to move some of my stuff from my parents’ house over to my new place, including my computer and a small TV. They do so during the day while my parents are at work. My parents are fully aware of this; in fact, they loan my boyfriend a house key.

When my folks get home, their neighbour comes over, extremely excited.

Neighbour: “You were robbed today!”

Mum: “What?!”

Neighbour: “I saw the whole thing! Several young men broke into your place and took a bunch of valuables, including a computer and a TV! I saw them carry everything out to their cars and drive away.”

Mum: *Catching on* “Oh, my. That’s bad. Did you call the police?”

Neighbour: “Um, no.”

Mum: “Did you get their license plates?”

Neighbour: “No.”

Mum: “How about their cars? Did you notice what kind they drive?”

Neighbour: “No.”

Mum: “Do you think you could describe the men?”

Neighbour: “They were young… That’s all I remember.”

Mum: *Laughing* “I’m sorry, I can’t keep doing this. It’s okay. Those guys were [My Name]’s boyfriend and friends, and they’re just helping her move some of her things to her new apartment.”

Neighbour: “You were just messing with me? That’s not nice!”

Mum: “You’re the one who watched our house apparently being robbed and didn’t do anything about it!”