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Thief
I waited in line with my eggs and bread cradled in one arm and let my gallon of milk dangle from my fingers to avoid its coldness. The boy in front of me purchased a pack of cigarettes and I could not help but think him a fool for buying the cancer sticks and the clerk a fool for selling them. She didn’t even check his ID. He didn’t look old enough to purchase that crap, but it’s not my job at stake.
I put my stuff up on the counter and waited for the woman to ring it up. She turned her smile on me and batted her eyes. I tried not to roll mine. No wonder she didn’t ID the kid. She didn’t have enough brains to rub together, let alone think. She was the type of person who could not chew gum and walk at the same time. She was chewing gum. I paid, took my groceries and left, glad to be away from such a dunce. I doubted she even realized that she was trying to flirt with another woman. Ditz. I was wearing baggy clothes and my hair was up under a baseball cap, but still, come on, a girl’s a girl.
The boy was outside, splitting the cigarettes between his friends, a snickering bunch of snot-nosed morons. Maybe there is something to child labor, I thought to myself. It would certainly clear the streets of these urchins. My car was not far down the street and I quickly made my way toward it. I hate this city. I really do. It’s dirty, disgusting and filled with all sorts of damned law breakers. I am no exception, but at least I take pride in my work.
I got into my car and closed the door. I locked the doors, since I don’t have one of those fancy self-locking cars. Besides, you can never be too safe in this place. I shoved the junk off of the passenger seat, put the groceries next to me and pulled out the receipt to check everything. I did not want to be jilted money by a ditz. I cursed. She had given me extra change. Two dollars and thirty-seven cents extra, to be exact. Not enough to be worth stealing and I didn’t even get the thrill of the thievery.
Alright. I’m a thief. So what? You can’t make a living any other way around here. Besides, I take pride in my work, unlike some others I know. And it’s a fairly good living. I nick pretty things that can easily be pawned off. I have a few regulars. I bring them first-class junk, they pay me a good portion in return. And I supplement my pawned stuff with cash. But only if I take it myself. I do have my pride, as I pointed out.
With a few more curses and a final grumble, I climbed back out of the car and jogged back to the convenience store. The idiot clerk was on break, sharing a smoke with the boy she had sold the cigarettes to. No wonder she sold them. She knew she’d be getting a few later. Christ, what’s the world coming to?
There was no line in the store this time around. The manager, an old underhanded man with greasy hair and a grin to match, told me to keep the extra change. If I did that, he would remove the exact amount from the ditz’s paycheck. I was tempted, I really was, but I also knew that if I kept it he could file for a robbery and I would take the blame, even if it was only two thirty-seven. Being the wonderful person that I am, I insisted that taking the money would be wrong and shoved it into his hands as the door slid open. A prospective customer had just walked in.
Not only was the man well dressed, he was good looking. His innocent face screamed “Target! Rob me! I’m rich!” I bumped into him on my way out and he apologized with a “Sorry sir.” I grunted back and hurried out, not too fast, so as not to arouse his suspicion.
What nerve! He called me “Sir”! That’s the second person today! Can’t he see that I am a woman? The fool. Apparently short hair plus baggy clothes equals male. I got into my car and slammed the door. I sat there for a moment before fishing out my prize: the young man’s wallet. It was a nice dark leather, uncommon for these times and I grinned. The wallet by itself would fetch quite a price at a pawn shop.
Someone tapped a t my window and I jumped. It was the young man, grinning like the fool he was. I rolled down my window. “Yes?” I asked gruffly. He was holding something in his hand.
“Care to exchange your wallet for mine, miss?”
- Title: Thief
- Artist: Glenlyon
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Description:
Another one I wrote for my school's lit mag. Pretty proud of this one too. I had a lot people bug me to continue it. I might one day. Really depends on when I come across it again.
Hope you enjoy.
~Lyon - Date: 07/27/2009
- Tags: thief
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