Exercising creativity is almost therapeutic—and that’s especially true when the exercise is a writing prompt. Man, do I love a good prompt. This week’s theme: an unexpected heist.
Angrily, I grab my phone and slam the alarm off as it shrieks “WAKE UP!” in that obnoxious Minions voice I thought would be funny when I set it. I swing my legs out of bed, feet hitting the floor with the reluctant fury of someone who’d much rather stay asleep. I stumble into the kitchen to inject my veins with the lifeblood of mornings—coffee—finally feeling a flicker of optimism kick in.
Gym clothes on, music blasting loud enough for my phone to warn me about hearing loss, I drive through the still-sleepy streets. By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m hyped up and ready to crush a workout. Step by step, I psych myself up: Let’s go. One rep at a time. Solid pump incoming.
But the second I pull the gym door open—BAM! I’m tackled by my seven-foot-tall, curly-haired best friend. His brown eyes are wild with excitement as he yells, “Forget the workout! You won’t believe this job that just came in!” he blurts out, eyes practically glowing.
“What job?” I mumble, still half-asleep.
He grins. “We’re stealing the gym’s waffle maker.”
I blink. “The one from the protein pancake bar?”
He nods, deadly serious. “Management’s been hoarding it for ‘maintenance.’ I call that a lie.”
Before I can protest, a duffel bag hits my chest. “You’re my lookout.”
Next thing I know, we’re creeping past the front desk like we’re on some undercover mission. He somehow picks the lock with a bobby pin—don’t even ask me how—and holds up the waffle maker like he just found buried treasure.
Then I hear footsteps.
“Abort mission!” I whisper,
and we take off—duffel bag bouncing, both of us trying not to laugh loud enough to get caught.
Now we’re posted up in my kitchen, eating protein waffles from our “borrowed” machine, and honestly… I can’t tell if we’re criminals or legends.
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