Benedictus

The first time I ever stole anything was from a 7-11, when I was ten. Not that I'm telling you to do it, but it's ridiculously easy to shoplift. You could walk out of that store with a stolen elephant and they wouldn't notice- or if they did, they wouldn't care. In that way, I took tons of stuff, mostly candy, and sold it to other dumb kids at school, like a drug dealer.

It's kind of funny to think back on it. My parents didn't care. They thought it was harmless and they thought it was just something all kids did once in a while. Maybe it was, but I knew full-well what I was doing was wrong.

Alright, I'm telling you about this because everything leads to something else, and in this case, it led to some guy's motorcycle- one of those really nice ones. I didn't really intend to steal his motorcycle. The way it happened was a bit anticlimactic. I was walking by this coffee shop; he left the bike running while he went into the café.

To this day I have no idea what he was doing. Maybe he thought he'd just get a quick cup of coffee and come right back. He probably wasn't thinking about what he was doing. I know I wasn't. Everything just happened, and nobody noticed, pretty amazing in itself; this fourteen year old kid on a motorcycle, driving like a maniac, and nobody gives a damn.

What I did was leave it in the street. I drove to another store, I forget what store, and parked the motorcycle in front of it. Not because I felt guilty. I felt absolutely no remorse. I realized that it would look suspicious if I went home riding a stolen motorcycle, and I was afraid of my stepfather.

I wonder if that guy found his motorcycle.

Is he still wondering who stole it?