Turning into her driveway, Jill killed the engine of her minivan. She kicked the door open, and as she did the engine sputtered, popped and finally shut off. The van was crap, but she couldn't buy a new one, not until little Rodney's dialysis was paid off. Upon hearing of this, most assumed that Jill had a son named Rodney who had kidney problems, but it was really her eighty year old uncle. The "Little" part was simply an ironic nickname from his days with the mob. His first name also was not really Rodney, but that's another story entirely, though it also ties in with the mafia thing.

Adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder, she stomped hurriedly up the driveway, her high heels thumping against the pavement. Her husband Jack was crouched dejectedly on the porch, looking at her apprehensively. Many people had laughed when they found out that Jack and Jill were a couple, but those people were usually met with a rather rude gesture. Jill pulled her sunglasses off as she approached Jack. "What is so damned important!?" she snapped, altogether ignoring the look of grief on her husband's face. She had much more pressing matters to attend to, after all.

"Well, uh, listen," Jack stood, clearly unsure of how to handle this, "Please, just. . . look at this with an open mind. No matter how bad it seems, it's not the end of the world, and- -"

"What is it?" the edge had dissappeared from Jill's voice.

Reluctantly, Jack reached behind him and opened the front door. Jill's mouth dropped open, no words escaping.

"I've called the police, and- -"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED!?"

"Well," Jack shook his head a little to get rid of the ringing in his ear caused by his wife screaming directly into it, "Someone seems to have broken in and stolen. . . everything, really."

"THE HOUSE IS COMPLETELY EMPTY!"

"Yes, I've noticed, thanks. Just try to look at the bright side. . ."

"What's the bright side? WHAT IS THE DAMNED BRIGHT SIDE TO THIS!?"

"Um. . . the house is certainly a lot cleaner, isn't it?"

"Oh yes! Certainly not cluttered up with ALL OF OUR WORLDLY POSSESSIONS!"

"I hear the open look is really what's in style in the way of interior decorating. . . get a few beanbag chairs in there, and it should be- -"

"This is no time for your jokes!"

"I rather like beanbag chairs. . ."

"I bet this was Uncle Benny's friends!"

"You have an Uncle Benny?"

"Rodney, I mean Rodney. God that's hard to get used to."

"The guy on dialysis? Why would he be connected with- -"

"No reason. I don't know anything about it. And neither do you."

". . .ooookay. . ."

"What are we going to do without all our stuff!?"

"Well they didn't take EVERYTHING. . ."

A small glimmer of hope appeared in Jill's eyes. "They didn't?"

"Not everything persay. . ."

"What did they leave?"

"All your old Ace of Base records."

Jill blinked. "What?"

"I guess they didn't want them."

"Why the hell not!? What's wrong with Ace of Base!?"

"Uh. . ."

"Don't you start!"

"What, you WANTED them to steal your records?"

"Well, no, but I'd appreciate the thought!"

"I think I hear the police sirens. . ."

"Good! I want these thieves caught, and I want to ask them what is wrong with my taste in music!"

"Well. . ."

"SHUT UP!"