I’m not a thief. Far from it.
But let’s not pretend that stealing or thieving is not a work of art. I’m not talking about whipping somebody’s cell phone on a running bike, but you know; the Oceans Eleven kind of thing. It’s a sort of dream sequence in which you always fancy yourself as the protagonist, and don’t you dare lie about that. But life isn’t always that beautiful is it? Nope, not really. Here we are stuck at home, pretending to be shocked when you hear about a friends missing IPod.
Who are we kidding? Let me confess: I’m not a thief; but I haven’t purchased a single pen – of any kind - since 10th grade. Not one. And I have no idea how I always seem to have one. Search me. This is what I call Selective Kleptomania. Stuff like pens, tissues from restaurants (ahem ahem) blah blah don’t matter. So we nick them without really thinking about it. Believe me this can be a school of thought.
Various categories can be attributed to this so-called crime.
- Steal and Run.
- Kick you in the Guts, Steal and Run.
- Kick you in the guts, Steal, Point at you and Laugh.
- Oceans Eleven variety.
At this juncture, I will take a moment to elucidate as to why I’m wasting my time over such a heinous and atrocious topic. Frankly I’m sadistic, bored and perversely fascinated with all things wrong.
Which welcomes you into my new religion – Selective Kleptomaniology.
It’s a new thing. Believe me it’ll catch on. It’s about lifting the one-odd Lays packet from your local shop down the street or casually borrowing your friend’s pen and never returning it back. And still not feel ashamed. To accept it as nature’s rule and move on with it. The key is to hold your head high. To admit that you find those heist things really cool. That you wish that you could be Oceans Fourteenth. That you know where to draw the line.
PS: I know what you’re thinking. That there is a deep past behind this post. There’s NOT!