The masterpiece slipped out the side door while the alarm was still learning to sing.

Somewhere between the velvet rope and the vault, a Rembrandt decided it had seen enough. The forger signed his name in someone else's gold and called it an honest morning's work. A priceless canvas rolled itself up, tipped the curator, and caught the last train out of town. Every great heist begins with a polite question and ends with a very rude absence on the wall.

They say the Mona Lisa owed us one favor, and she paid it back in the dark without saying goodbye. Priceless is just a polite word for something nobody remembered to pay for before it walked away.

Behind every empty frame there is a very smug nail that finally got the afternoon off it deserved.