No Shit, Sherlock

Aunt Milly was known throughout the area for having one prized possession of incredible value. People in the area had talk about it for years, longer than anyone could remember. Whenever she came into town, she had an aura of pride, of ownership. It was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. Some of those who came to knew what to look for were thieves from a neighboring town. Bad guys, indeed. They'd heard of this tremendous object and wanted to possess it for themselves. After all, how hard can it be to rob an old lady? One fateful evening, the men snuck around her house after dark, creeping through bushes and under the porch, sneakily observing every entry-way and exit. Finally, they decided on entering through a second story window, open to let in the cool summer night. Shimmying up a drain pipe, they tip-toed through the grandmotherly house. Finally, they came across a closet that so obviously held the prized object they sought. Peering through, their intuition proved correct, a lock box held a very obviously sturdy lock. For hours, the thieves pried and calculated. In frustration, one uttered profane and blasphemous mutterings. His whisper was met with the click of a shotgun Aunt Milly had come up behind the dastardly men in their schemes. Aiming her double barrel in their direction, she ordered their removal, with which they complied.

Later, after sharing the harrowing story with me, I hesitantly asked Aunt Milly what was in her safe box that was so valuable. Laughing and pulling me close, she speaking softly into my ear, "Honey, all this hemmin' and hawin' in town is a little overblown. You see, I am the inventor of the world's only uncrackable lock."