It’s nearly seven thirty on a Monday night in a suburban community near Waukegan, Illinois. The Sorensons are having a party when the front door bell rings. Thinking it’s the early arrival of a guest, Chub Sorenson opens the door.

It’s not a guest—it’s Wesley, and this is a home invasion. Wesley is armed with a 9 mm Beretta semi-automatic. Chub steps back as Wesley forces his way into the parlor. "Where’s the money and silverware?"Wesley demands. The Sorensons look at each other, then Chub explains: "We took all our valuables over to our son’s house this afternoon because of the party."

"What party?" a confused Wesley asks.

Chub Sorenson replies, "We’re having our annual Sorenson Festival tonight and we’ve cleared out all our valuables because many of the guests will be strangers. The caterers are providing everything, so there’s nothing of value here tonight. Maybe if you come back tomorrow night?"

Wesley finished the eighth grade, but now he’s really confused. "What do you mean, come back tomorrow night?"

"Well," says Chub, "tomorrow night the party will be over and we’ll have all our valuable stuff back here. If you come then, there’ll be all sorts of stuff you can take."

Waving the gun around, Wesley replies, "You’d better be telling me the truth or you’ll be sorry."

"Cross my heart," says Chub.

"I’ll be back," says Wesley as he darts out the front door.

You’d think that’d be the end of it. But no. The next night here comes Wesley knocking on the Sorensons’ front door holding the same Beretta.

Chub opens the door, but before you can say "oops," the homeowner slams a billy club into Wesley’s gut. Next Chub strikes one of Wesley’s kneecaps with the stick. That’s when the erstwhile burglar drops the gun.

Did I mention that Chub is a retired street cop?

Wesley is carted off to the emergency room and then to the county jail. Why am I not surprised that Wesley, facing first degree burglary charges, is also suing Chub Sorenson for his injuries. Wesley claims he was an invited guest.