Have you ever stolen anything? I have. Lots of things. Sometimes it's just small things like a candy bar or a salt shaker. Or a pinkie ring.
Sometimes it's big things like a refrigerator or a television. Once I stole an army tank and drove it on the freeway while the cops watched.
I never sell the things I steal; I don't need the money. I have storage sheds full of items that aren't mine hidden around my immense manor.
I have no motive for stealing other than the act itself pleases me, sort of like how a dancer feels after completing a terrific pas de deux.
I never thieve impulsively, because the beauty is in the planning. There is so much to consider in each case that it must be perfectly done.
I've watched households for weeks to learn their schedules. I've studied numerous alarm systems. I have maps of all the city sewers at home.
I find it amusing to invade gated communities and take numbers off a house or a remote control from a sofa or a battery from an alarm clock.
I almost got caught stealing an ice cream truck once. It was around one a.m. and I got stopped by a cop, but he just wanted some soft serve.
If my friends ever found out I'd be ostracized. High society only approves of white-collar cons and schemers, not outlaw collectors like me.
But to resist the urge would be to deny my very self. This is who I am, a jokester hijacker, a prankish purloiner, a laughing larcenist. Me.
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