The Great Avocado Heist of Apartment 304

It all started on a sunny Tuesday when Gerald, a middle-aged man with a deep passion for toast, realized he was out of avocados. To a normal person, this might mean a quick trip to the grocery store. But Gerald wasn’t normal. He was “hangry.”

Gerald peeked over the balcony of his third-floor apartment and spotted the green jackpot: a ripe avocado tree in Mrs. Ling’s backyard below. Mrs. Ling was 82, sweet as pie, but guarded her avocados like they were her grandchildren. Last year, she chased a squirrel off with a flip-flop.

Gerald, driven by desperation and toast dreams, hatched a plan. He would “borrow” one avocado. Just one. Maybe two. He tied a laundry basket to a long broomstick, MacGyver-style, and began Operation: Guac ‘n’ Grab.

As he lowered the basket, wind caught it and it smacked Mrs. Ling’s window. She popped out faster than a pop-tart in a toaster, squinting at the suspicious sky-basket.

“GERALD! Is that YOU stealing my avocados?!”

Gerald panicked. He yelled, “No, no! I was… catching birds! Yeah! Big green birds!”

Mrs. Ling wasn’t buying it. She marched outside with her flip-flop, yelling, “You better be ready to fight, Gerald! I do tai chi every morning!”

Chaos broke out. Gerald dropped the broomstick, tripped over his cat, and accidentally launched the laundry basket back into his apartment — with a single, glorious avocado inside.

Victory. Sweet, green victory.

The next morning, Gerald left a thank-you note and a peace offering: a slice of avocado toast on Mrs. Ling’s doorstep.

She took it.

And added Gerald to her “watchlist.”