Normstead was the kind of town where nothing truly exciting ever happened. Sure, there were the occasional town hall disputes over whether Martha Wicker’s garden gnome collection was an eyesore, or debates about whether the mayor’s obsession with commemorative plaques was getting out of hand. But beyond that, life was slow, predictable, and, as some would argue, a little dull.

That’s why Heath was such a necessary element of the town’s ecosystem.

Heath had an uncanny ability to keep the townsfolk on their toes, injecting a much-needed dose of chaos into the otherwise mundane rhythm of Normstead. 

If something unusual was happening, Heath was usually behind it. He once convinced the entire town that a rare, endangered species of neon-colored pigeon had taken residence in the park, leading to an official bird-watching committee being formed.

Another time, he successfully held a completely nonsensical “Normstead Olympics,” where residents competed in absurd events like “speed sweater knitting” and “synchronized sidewalk chalk drawing.”

This is the story about the time Heath once stole a building. A whole building. Not a small safe, not a diamond. A building.