Criminal

The window gave easily enough; one smack and he was through. "Yesssssss," he whispered, relieved that no alarm had sounded (it was a nice car, but an old car, and you took your chances there). It was the wallet wedged between the seat and the console that had lured him in, and he went right for it. "What the ...?" he said aloud (couldn't help himself) when the wallet flipped up and out of sight towards the back seat. He heard the growling before he raised his eyes, savvy enough to realize that "lure" had the operative word. They were crouching on the seat, claws gripping the pleather and cloth with eyes red and teeth that protruded, top and bottom, like some horrific sea creature. He eyeballed three or four of them, crowded together, like a little family (like a little nest). "Sorry," he said gently, hands up, preparing to back up, but he didn't get that far. It was their first meal coming out of hibernation, and his last criminal act.