My Life as a Hardened Criminal

In an effort to lead a healthier life, I’ve been making changes to my diet. Not cold turkey or anything. But instead small things, like eliminating soda.

Soda is how I get caffeine. The teas I like don’t have it, and I don’t like coffee. So it’s soda. I’ve fought the caffeine headaches pretty well. Combating it by chugging water, which has been helpful. I’m down to one can a day, and the headaches aren’t that bad.

So I try to go one day without soda at all. By 4pm, my brain was splitting. If I’d had other symptoms, I’d have thought I was ill. So I cave. I swing by 7-11 to pick up a Big Gulp, money in hand. The headache made it hard to see straight.

I hop in my car and drive away.

It was about 3 miles later I realized I still had a death grip on my money. I never paid. And I run the scene over again. I got my drink, walked out the door passing the clerk, into my car and I unknowingly fled the scene.

Now, something you should know: I have no stomach for thievery. In the three times I’ve stolen in my life, I have felt extreme forms of guilt.

When I was 3, I took gummy bears from those plastic bins at a grocery store. Mom said she’d tell the manager and they would have the cops take me away. I cried a lot.

When I was a bit older, I was in Sunday school and found an F1 racer matchbox car. I love it. Took it. And yes… that’s stealing from a church.

And finally, in kindergarten my Bucky O’Hare action figure was stolen just days after the arduous journey made by my parents to buy it for me. I was 5. I was pretty certain of who took it, so I took his Donatello Ninja Turtle Action Figure. I still feel terrible.

So yeah. 20 years later I steal a Cherry Pepsi. And when I found that money still gripped in my hand, sweat formed on my brow. I turned the car around and made the trip back. Walked in, cup in hand, and casually said: “umm… I think I just stole this.”

“Yeah, we were just talking about that. We wrote down your information.” He shows me a list: License Plate, Model of car, color, physical description, height, beenie, glasses, etc. Pretty good, considering I was there just a moment.

“Well, I apologize. My head is just killing me.”

“No problem. I’m surprised you came back. If it had been beer, we would have called the cops.” I laughed at this. “there’s nothing we could really do over a Big Gulp, except see if you came back. Next time, the drinks on us to say thanks for your honesty.”

Wait, what? I stole, came back and paid for it… so you’re giving me my next one free? I’m confused… and I won’t hold them to it as he wasn’t a manager. And yeah.

But my conscience is clear. The guilt is gone. And I walked around with my chalice saying “Here be my spoils!”