June 07, 2007
When a Felon IS Engaged In His Employment
I got in my car the other day, and I noticed that it looked... cleaner than usual. Oh, waitaminute -- it's less cluttered because I was ROBBED!
ROBBED, I tell you!
Someone dared to board and pilliage the S.S. Explorer! Doesn't really jibe well with my piratey persona. How embarassing.
The booty the little bastards made off with was CDs, a leather CD case, and a small book. Now, let's examine this.
The leather CD case I understand. It was nice. However, you can get one at Target for, like, ten bucks. I don't even remember what CDs were in it. I think it was a Beatles complilation two-disk set, and two Gilbert & Sullivan CDs that Marty burned for me -- "Iolanthe" and "Ruddigore." Normal people wouldn't posess those CDs on a bet, let alone steal them! I've been robbed by snooty fags!
I also had -- and this will be most missed -- my "Pirate of Penzance" CDs, in their original case, with libretto, by D'Oyly Carte. FUCKERS! Those things are, like, thirty bucks! If you can find them!
Now, I can only hope that the little shits will be listening to light opera about fairies, ghosts and pirates, and it will dilute their insatiable lust for crime, but that's not bloody likely. They'll keep the case, pitch the CDs in it (you can't pawn a CD without a case), and pawn the "Pirates" set for about two dollars.
Now the book. The book was "How Far Will You Go?" It's a bunch of thought-provoking questions that I keep in the car for long road trips.
What the hell are they going to do with that? Pawn it? Get to know his fellow felons better with it? "Okay, dude, here's one. What is the biggest lesson you ever learned from your father?" "Um, I never met my father."
But perhaps more interesting is what they left behind.
They left about five dollars in change that I still have in the little coin holders, despite the fact that I got an Ipass six months ago. (For those of you who don't live near Illinois, an Ipass is a small device kept in one's car so that Gov. Blago can rape us for tolls more painlessly. This is what you get for voting democratic.)
They left a cute, big plate shelf I bought for Billi. Hard to miss. Although I suppose teenaged hooligans don't display many plates. Not like the old days.
They left the two big atlas map books, one for Illinois and one for Wisconsin. Very helpful! Especially considering they'll probably be on the lam soon.
And most stupidly, they overlooked a $150 suede Hobo International purse that I left in the car to remind me to take it in to be cleaned. (Yes, I'm too lazy to clean it myself, despite the fact that I don't even have a job. Shut up. These nails don't paint themselves!)
Obviously, the thieves were teenaged boys because anyone else in the world would recognize suede and the financial opportunity it presents at the pawn shop. Duh. But I'm SO ETERNALLY GRATEFUL they are retarded because I got the purse for thirty bucks on eBay, and it's soooooooooo kewl.
The weird thing is, I always lock my car. ALWAYS. Even if I only leave it parked in front of an abbey to run in for ten seconds, I lock it. It's habit. My car is never, ever unlocked, so how they got in is a mystery to me. There are three possibilities:
1. They happened to check my car on the One Day EVER I left it unlocked overnight.
2. They check my car every single night and finally got lucky.
3. They jimmied the lock.
I know what you're thinking. 'Now, Wenchie, why would a thief check your car every single night?' Because he lives next door to me, and it's convenient.
To the south are the awesome-est neighbors ever. They take in our mail when we're gone, keep their yard nice, and once the husband got out of the shower to lend me some nutmeg. They're what every neighbor should be.
To the north is Damien. His father is incommunicado, and his grandmother is raising him while his mother works 23 hours a day. His "friends" all drive Hummers, Mercedes and Porsches and think that midnight is an acceptable time to drop by on a school night. He's a total drug dealer, and the cops are over there every six months.
I'm sure it was him. And now I have to be extra vigilant about what I leave in my car. Ooooh, I think I'll leave him a note!
Dear Drug-Dealing Bastard Next Door,
In the end, the pirates turn from their life of crime and get rewarded with 17-year old pussy. Listen, learn it, live it.
Love, Wenchie
And I have to remove the change from my coin holder. In fact, I'm going to do that right now.
Today's lesson is: Just say NO to opera!
Comments
Just say no to opera? You been talking to my wife?
Posted by: Marty at June 7, 2007 06:25 PM
Damn crazy town you live in. Hasn't been the same since I quit corralling their wacked out teenagers. I'm buying you lo-jack and a club for National Pirates Day.
Posted by: Vicki at June 11, 2007 04:05 PM