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The kitchen counter was slightly sticky, still retaining oil stains. Frank held onto the cabinet door, first opening a few compartments on the left and right.
Inside were old dishes, glass cups, and a few rusted iron pans, even a pile of advertisement brochures stuffed in by who-knows-who.
He patiently rummaged through bit by bit, opening a few jars most likely to hide money, but inside was either flour or pasta that had been sitting there for who-knows-how-long.
"Truly disappointing."
He began to mutter again: "You guys actually wasted such good hiding spots? You're disgracing my seed!"
The first few cabinets held nothing. Frank's gaze slowly lifted, finally landing on the highest cabinet.
That cabinet was so high that Fiona had to stand on a stool to reach it.
Most importantly, the door of this cabinet looked "sturdier" than the ones next to it, and there were faint traces of rope friction above the door gap.
"Then let's see if the treasure is inside."
Frank grinned, stood on tiptoes on the counter, then arched his body upward, reaching out to grab the handle of that cabinet door.
His fingertips hooked the handle, and he pulled hard.
"Oh! —Shit!"
Just as the cabinet door opened, a whole bucket of cold water poured fiercely down on his head!
The water was mixed with small stones, sand, and buttons, clattering loudly against his scalp.
"FUCK! Shit! Jesus!! You little bastards!!"
Ice water poured down his collar, sliding all the way down his spine to his waist, making him shudder involuntarily.
The stones hit his head, and some sand rolled down his collar, making him shiver uncontrollably.
Frank yelled incoherently while reflexively leaning back. His footing became unstable, and he slipped on the kitchen counter.
"Bang!"
Frank fell from the kitchen counter entirely.
He landed butt first, then his back hit the cabinet door, and finally, he crumbled into a ball.
The iron bucket hit the ground at the same time, scattering small stones everywhere.
"Fck! Fck! Fck!"
Frank grimaced in pain, propping himself up on the floor with both hands. After recovering for a while, he cursed, "Which bastard ambushes a disabled person in their own home?!"
He touched his hair and pulled down a handful of sand, becoming even more irritable.
"This is... this is a war crime!"
He started pointing randomly at the ceiling, saying viciously: "It's definitely written in the Geneva Convention! Using cold water attacks on defenseless old fathers is prohibited!"
After cursing at the air for a while, he finally had some strength to hold onto the counter and stand up.
Frank narrowed his eyes, looking up at the cabinet door he had just pulled open.
Inside the cabinet, a modified small wooden board lay across the top edge. A pulley was fixed to the board with nails, and a thin rope went around the pulley, the other end connected to that iron bucket.
Inside the cabinet, a few plastic toy soldiers were neatly arranged.
Frank narrowed his eyes, looking at the toy soldiers, then at the stones on the floor, and finally down at his soaked self.
"Alright, this definitely looks like the handiwork of that little pervert Carl."
He could perfectly imagine the scene at the time.
Carl holding these things, gesturing excitedly at home, explaining this "non-lethal trap" logically.
Beside him, Debbie had her hands on her hips, shouting loudly at Carl, "No hanging on the door, no hanging on the stairs, no putting things that could kill people inside!!"
In the end, Carl could only settle for the next best thing, taking advantage of when Debbie and others weren't paying attention, setting up the iron bucket defense in this inconspicuous place.
Unexpectedly, it hit the mark by accident. This defense system wasn't wasted; it became an effective trap against the "enemy."
"Congratulations, the defense system finally succeeded once."
Frank shook the water off his sleeves, shivering from the cold, still cursing relentlessly.
"Setting traps for your old man in your own home, is this the attitude towards a father? If I break my leg, let's see which one of you will pick up my disability check!"
Despite the cursing, his eyes honestly glanced into the cabinet a few more times.
Plastic toy soldiers, wet spice jars, pulley, and rope... but no shadow of banknotes.
To probe further inside, he would have to climb up again.
Frank looked at the water stains and stones all over the floor, then at his slightly trembling legs. He fell silent for two seconds.
Fine, breaking a leg for a few hundred bucks that might not even exist didn't seem worth it.
Mainly, after breaking a leg, it would be inconvenient for him to go out drinking and having fun.
After the adrenaline faded, pain all over his body began to flare up. Frank suddenly felt that he wouldn't look for this money for now today.
"Fine."
"You guys got lucky today."
He limped a few steps to the side, too lazy to clean up the mess on the floor. "You won. Congratulations on successfully guarding that pitiful private money."
After speaking, he found himself an excuse:
"A great father sometimes has to learn tolerance. If I find all your money now, what motivation will you have to continue creating wealth for this family?"
Thinking this way, Frank felt a bit more comfortable.
Money could be found later.
The more pressing issue now was that he needed something to soothe his battered body and mind.
Frank first went to the bathroom to get a towel, stripped naked and wiped himself randomly, drying his hair and body, then changed into a set of clothes belonging to who-knows-who, and then limped towards the basement.
This time, Frank didn't touch the door wrapped tightly in sheet metal, nor did he touch the lock-picking tools and crowbar again.
He just wanted to get some food.
Frank grabbed a plastic bag nearby and took a dozen packaged chicken rolls and burgers in one breath. The plastic bag was stuffed full. He weighed it in his hand and felt the weight was acceptable.
"This is tax."
He solemnly announced to the air, "A reasonable tax rate levied by the head of the household on illegal small businesses."
Saying this, he stuffed two more into the bag, continuing to justify himself:
"If not for me, this wise financial supervisor, you would be targeted by the IRS sooner or later. I'm just helping you reduce the burden in advance, understand? This is called structural reform."
After saying all this, he carried this bag of frozen goods and walked all the way back to the front door.
"Fck."
He concluded finally, "I really raised a nest of ungrateful wolves, and a little Oriental capitalist who engages in the underground economy."
Although he said so, the corners of his mouth still curled up, feeling a little smug in his heart.
At least, this nest of ungrateful wolves found a new way to make money (allowing him to secretly benefit a little), and let him get a bag of free frozen burgers.
Finally, Frank, shivering and cursing, staggered towards the Alibi Room.
Although the money was gone, maybe he could try using this bag of "tax" to exchange for a few beers with Kevin.