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The clatter is ominous if only because it’s unfamiliar. The apartment is full of old appliances and, to be honest, at least a few mice. Or possibly a raccoon or two. But the distant metallic clang on linoleum can't promise anything good.
“Bobby!” Linda shakes Bob’s arm in panic. Teddy, on his right, snores on. Of course. “Bobby! Someone’s breaking in!”
“It’s probably just the kids, Lin,” Bob mumbles into his pillow. He’s a little concerned as well but more important is that he just finished a rare day of constant business that ran them all ragged. Bob is also trying to ignore his birthday “present” from a few months ago–a replica Victorian nightgown, complete with nightcap. Tina had looked so pleased when Bob had accidentally “found” it again in his closet with the children unfortunately present, so now he’s doomed to be uncomfortable at night for at least a week before Tina forgets the whole thing once more in dreaming about boys. Louise’s smirk when the kids presented it (with a real candlestick, even) said everything about the unusual gift.
“It’s not the kids, Bob!” Linda leaps up from the bed and pulls her nightie over her head quickly. Bob squeezes his eyes shut against the dim light from the streetlamp outside and hears ruffling. Teddy snorts awake, no doubt disturbed by the unusual movement and noise.
“Huh, wha, wait–what’s going on?”
“Nothing, Ted. Go back to sleep,” Bob says wearily.
Linda yanks on Bob’s arm. “Oh, no you don’t! Both of you, up! I’m not fighting a burglar alone!”
“Burglar?” Teddy shouts in a panic. Linda shushes him as Bob sits up with a grumble on the side of the bed.
“Come on! Grab your candlestick, Bob!”
Bob rolls his eyes but picks up the antique brass candlestick. “Good memories from your childhood, huh Dad?” Louise had snarked when Bob saw the gleaming metal in the gift box. Bob picks up Teddy’s vintage Zippo that his boyfriend had “generously” loaned him. Bob lights the candle and regrets never putting new batteries into the flashlight currently gathering dust on the bottom shelf of the bedside table.
“Come on, then. If you two are so worried,” Bob says with a deep sigh. Linda grabs his hand tightly. Bob glances back to see Teddy mimic the movement with Linda. Bob sighs again and heads towards the bedroom door.
He does a double take once they’re in the living room with more ambient light. “Lin, why are you wearing your good nightdress?”
Linda’s whisper is loud and Bob winces instinctually. “It might be a fancy burglar! Like when we got held at gunpoint at dinner theater, remember?”
“He wasn’t fancy, Lin," Bob groans softly, "He was just singing. Burglars aren’t fancy. Otherwise they wouldn’t steal, right?”
Teddy has been unusually quiet up until this point. Bob is startled and almost drops his candlestick when Teddy speaks up in a whisper as loud and obvious as Linda’s. “I don’t know, Bobby. Have you ever seen a cat burglar? Pretty swanky.”
Bob rolls his eyes as they continue to make their way to the kitchen. “Oh my God.”
Thankfully there’s no more commentary until they finally reach the doorway. Bob’s heart pounds: what if it is a burglar? Can he protect his family? What if they’re taken captive, which seems to happen way more often than you’d think to the Belchers?
“Tina, be quiet!” Louise’s voice cuts the tension like the knives that she’s not allowed to use. “I can’t concentrate with you breathing in my ear!”
“I’m sorry!” Tina’s disembodied apology sounds strained. “But we really need to go back to bed, Louise! What if the adults find us? We’ll never get our fireworks then!”
“Yeah!” Gene doesn’t even try to whisper. “I want my smoke bombs!”
There’s the softest sound of a peeved grunt. “I’m not going to do anything with them! I just want to be sure Teddy got the right kind of firecrackers. And I’d be going faster if you'd both stop jostling my pickin’ arm!”
At that Bob lets go of Linda’s hand and strides into the room to see all three children turn, guilt on every face. Louise has her lockpicking kit scattered around her feet (obviously dropped, the source of the initial noise) and the little girl is frozen in the act of opening the drawer where Bob had stashed the fireworks for Independence Day next week. Bob scowls in annoyance.
Louise immediately points an accusing finger at her father. “A Ghost! Run!”
“Jokes? Really? Right now?” Linda crosses her arms but her mouth twitches. Bob scowls even harder and shoves the fuzzy white ball of his nightcap out of his face where it had whacked him as he caught his kids in the act.
Louise shrugs and starts picking up her kit. “If I’m in trouble anyway, I might as well go all in.”
“I got ya Black Cats, Louise,” Teddy yawns and scratches his bare back just above his boxers. “And a Boom Ball!”
“Balls!” Gene exclaims joyously.
“All right, all right!” Bob cuts into any further discussion. He’s exhausted, he’s pissed, and he’s not dealing with this right now.
Bob points at each of his children in turn, lingering especially on Louise. “Go. To. Bed. We’ll figure out your punishment tomorrow.”
Bob then points at his wife and boyfriend just as aggressively. “And you two, with your fancy burglars, get to open tomorrow. I’m sleeping in.”
He won’t. They all know it. But Bob feels just a little bit vindicated when neither contradicts him, instead looking sheepishly at each other as Bob turns to go back to bed.
At least his nightgown is comfortable.