The Wrong House

Bobbie and Robby were both burglars. Two young men who did nothing but steal from those more fortunate than them. You couldn't possibly justify theft, but in the minds of these two youngsters, they saw themselves as modern day Robin Hoods. Stealing from the rich, to give to the poor. Only the so-called "poor" in this story referred to only these two. They were brothers, Bobbie and Robby White were their names and the father of these two was called Toby. Perhaps his grandfather was called Coby or something like that. Believe me, the similar names were the only amusing thing about these two brothers. Both of them were (pardon my french) twats. Arrogant men who thought the world was out to get them, treating everyone like they were the enemy. In reality, it was these two crooks that were the villains. They had stolen from a total of 49 houses, apartments and even hotel rooms across the whole of New York City. At first the two of them had next to no money, by the time they were thieving in Manhattan, the brothers were positively rich, living like Kings. They should've stopped, of course they should have! Bobbie and Robby were far beyond lucky to get away with as much as they already had. Yet, these burglaries had become an addiction to them. The thrill of almost getting caught, of narrowly escaping with treasure worth hundreds, if not thousands of dollars was unlike anything else. It was daring and exciting, got your heart thumping wildly in your chest! There was nothing like this. No drugs, alcohol or natural feeling could match the adrenaline and risk that came with sneaking into a stranger's home, wearing black ski masks and leather gloves. Even if they were the richest men in the big apple, Bobbie and Robby would still be burglars, because no amount of money could buy anything that matched this strange high. Of course, just like with all criminals who get way too greedy; eventually they got clumsy, way too clumsy! One night in Queens, they chose to steal from the wrong house, one a psychotic killer lived in the darkness. Upon breaking into the house, they immediately smelt death, like rotting ham burger meat under a summer sun in Texas.
"We should leave..." Bobbie whispered (he was the smart one).
"No..." Robby shook his head, pressing forwards (he was the dumb one). Bobbie followed his brother with great hesitation and dread, this wasn't the usual thrill he felt when robbing houses. Tonight he was scared. Scared of the hideous stench of death, of course he only continued this robbery because of his stupid brother Robby. They both crept into the kitchen where the smell was coming from, Robby was the curious cat and curiosity killed the cat. The killer inside this house sprung out from a dark corner of the room, big, sharp kitchen knife in hand, he stabbed and murdered Robby within an instant.
"Robby, no!" Bobbie cried, backing away from the knife wielding lunatic, whose knife was stained red with his brother's blood. The psycho began laughing, his teeth were mostly missing and they were black with rot. He stunk worse than hell itself. This man's clothes were stained a dark brown, like dried up gore. He hadn't washed in years (or so Bobbie thought).
"You picked the wrong house!" The killer laughed maniacally, dancing with the knife, licking the fresh red liquid upon it like juice. Bobbie tried to defend himself as the killer dived towards him, knife slashing wildly. Bobbie didn't stand a chance, as his body was cut to pieces, he screamed, pleading for mercy.
"Please mister!" He begged, "I'm so young, please don't kill me!"
"This is the first time a curious cat came to me!" He giggled, "normally I have to hunt my victims down, this is a surprise to be sure... But a welcome one!" Then the killer sliced open Bobbie's throat. He died in his arms, eyes bulging in pure terror! At least the brothers both tasted delicious, the killer was a cannibal you see and ate their livers with a Salisbury steak.