Persimmon rustlers strike early!

He approached his prey all stealth-like, not noisy at all, real quiet. He didn't want to startle it; no one wants to give chase at six-thirty in the morning. When he got into striking range, he struck, like a silent snake strikes or something!

Little did he know that the tree was guarded! Not by a dog like a watchdog or a rottweiler or a dog that is fierce with strangers but would protect the family with his life and is so gentle with the kids, or a llama who you put into a flock of sheep to chase off wild dogs. There was no llama guarding this tree, and so the rustler made his move, unaware that not ten feet away but on the other side of a fence and a bedroom wall lay a woman with considerable crimefighting experience.

I drew on my vast knowledge of criminology, recalling that I have many ripe persimmons on my tree! I listened with my ears, and heard leaves rustling! I looked through the window, which is transparent and not opaque, and saw a long-handled fruit picker reaching into the branches of my tree! My brain made a billion connections in that instant and everything, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in a flash that nearly overwhelmed me. Understanding flooded through me! He was taking my fruit!

I pondered my options. Unleash the llama? No. I do not have a llama. That was not actually an option. Procure llama against future thefts? Must discuss with sister. The babies would probably like a llama, if it would give them rides. But would a llama eat my arugula? It is bad enough that my sister eats my arugula. She already gives the kids rides, although she does not give wool or guard the herd, chasing off wild dogs. The role of llama is still unfilled in that household, and whether we have a llama should be an explicit decision and not just an effect of path-dependency and reversion to the default no-llama state.

Sometimes one does not have a llama, but one must nevertheless fight crime! This was one of those times! Because I did not have a llama, but a crime was going down right outside my window! I OPENED MY WINDOW! I said, "Dude! Stop that." He said, "How are you going to make me stop, lady? I don't see a llama." His syndicate must have cased the joint! They planned this crime for months, watching my house, learning my routine, taking careful notes, including a sentence in all-caps, bolded, 28 point font, brief but given lots of exclamation points for additional emphasis: NO LLAMA!!!!!!!

I was out of patience. I threw the smaller of the knives under my pillow at him, then impaled his still twitching body on the sharpened post right next to the persimmon tree, pour descourager les autres. I'll leave a note for the renters, promising to take that down once I've picked all my persimmons.