It started a couple of years ago with my angel. I had a three-foot angel that I had won almost unfairly at a pinochle party about eight years ago. I didn’t really like the angel. I felt guilty for winning it because I had been playing pinochle since I was nine years old and the women I competed against were beginners. After years of placing creepy plastic spiders and skulls in its hand for its plaster mind to ponder, however, I had grown to like it. That was until the Tchotchke Thieves stole it from my front porch.

The next thing they stole was Mike’s bike. It wasn’t really tchotchke, but its another item from our list of belongings that has disappeared from our front porch.

Just last month sometime, the Tchotchke Thieves struck again by stealing my cloud/wind/birdfeeder thing. It was a token that I bought unwillingly at one of those women parties that revolve around shopping. Kind of like a Tupperware party for tchotchke. I bought the wind thing and hung it on the east side of the house to protect my home from strong wind. I had purchased it begrudgingly, but I eventually liked it after owning it for twelve years or so. When I noticed that it was missing, I was fuming.

“The Tchotchke Thieves stole my wind/birdfeeder thingy.” I pointed to the empty spot on the wall of the front porch and protested to Mike. He responded calmly,

“I guess we should take anything we like off this porch.” I quickly gathered the bamboo windchime and the huge green vase where I held the broom.

“Why would someone steal tchotchke? There’s an old lady two blocks down with all my stuff, I just know it! What kind of person steals tchotchke? I don’t even know how to spell tchotchke!”

Mike calmly replied, “T-C-H-O-T-C-H-K-E, I think.”

I looked it up at Websters Dictionary. “You’re right!”

“Yeah, it’s the kind of word they throw out in the last round of the spelling bee.” Mike was the winner for our grade at Kennedy Junior High School, so I believed him.

“I didn’t even know it was a real word. I’ve only heard Strebe say it. I thought he made it up.”

“No, it’s a real word, Yiddish, I think.”

“Yiddish? That’s not fair giving Yiddish words at spelling bees.”

“What does all this have to do with taking down the windchimes?”

“Freakin’ Tchotchke Thieves…”