Say what you want about me, but know I leave the weak alone. So the first thing I’ll do is go over to invite the man shooting. If he says no, flat out, then I know he doesn’t own a gun; check that off. They usually say no. If he comes along, and if he doesn’t shark me out of some money; and if it winds up that after a couple hours he hasn’t hit a damn thing, then I don’t worry about that. That’s step one.
The family that just moved here last week – four kids. That’s step two. And I hate these traditional moms – that’s step three. You wonder why the shooting comes first? I just like to make sure that remains an art. In my line of work, you have to set boundaries. It’s like a sad person who refuses to drink a beer by himself in the morning.
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I like to borrow things and not give them back. People forget the little things. For example, I never buy serving platters. Or garden trowels. Once I borrowed a snow blower and kept it in my garage for most almost two months until it snowed again and my neighbor remembered where it was. But by then I had already cleared the driveway.
ReplyDeleteI still don’t own a snow blower. No need to.
My new neighbor leaves the garage open so I know exactly what he has. I have my sights set on an extension ladder. He has two of them, so chances are good he will not miss it right away. The trick is to borrow things when people are distracted – get them talking about their lawn and then casually ask if you can borrow an extension ladder. Never tell them why you need it. For some reason they remember that.
Much later when they are searching for the thing and puzzled that it is not in the place they thought they left it, they will have vague inklings that they loaned it to somebody, but there will be no face. I am sure it must be frustrating.
I am working out how to borrow a flat screen television. That will be a little harder.
I am not a thief. Yes, I know, then why am I sitting here in the dark, watching my new neighbor through her brightly lit kitchen window? Why am I noting her moves, the times she leaves, the times she arrives back home? Why am I drawing floor plans of her house based on the identical one I am renting next door? Why am I measuring the distance from windows to the ground, and noting when she leaves those windows open? Why did I climb into her bedroom the other evening while she was out with her boyfriend, and take a single pair of her underwear? All right - I admit that was theft. But I am not a thief.
ReplyDeleteBecause you see, a thief glories in the act of theft; in the taking of something that he does not own, that he could never afford, and possessing it. He delights in looking at it; in thinking he could do with it whatever he likes. He could break it, burn it, sell it or sleep with it in his bed every night if he wanted. What was NOT his IS. that is the pleasure of theft.
That is why I am not a thief. For I do not glory in taking things. to hold in my hand the object of my desire is a disappointment. it is the feeling you have when the woman you have coaxed home to sleep with you is found to be wearing falsies. It is an anticlimax.
No, I glory in the pursuit. I love to plan, to watch, to prowl and actually penetrate the lives of those I would steal from. Occasionally I take things. But the best part, is, I always give them back. I will take a glass, then three days later leave it in the sink. I will sneak in late at night, and turn on the television with the sound low as a whisper.
The underwear? I will leave those in the middle of her living room floor.
ANd then I will watch, safe in my darkened room, as she puzzles over the glass in the sick, I will fantasize about how she will wake up in the middle of the night to find the television murmuring in the living room. I will squeal with delight as she picks up the single pair of her underwear, missing for days.
Who needs the pleasure of taking what does not belong to you? There is a deeper delight; that of giving; giving insecurity, unease, fear.
And it is better to give than to receive, is it not? I had better get moving. Tonight I have a special surprise for my neighbor.