After a string of robberies in the area, I’ve actually started to feel left out. That being said, I know full-well why my apartment has been neglected: because I’m a low-life piece of shit with absolutely nothing of value. However, I do like to imagine what a potential burglar would steal from me, were they to enter my home. I mean, once you’ve busted in, you may as well take something right? It’s like going into a brothel and finding all the hot ones already taken: if you’ve gone to the trouble of getting in the place, may as well get a rim-job from a cripple or whatever. I don’t really know about the employability of legless hookers, but that’s another discussion. To clarify: I’m a broke undergrad with two equally slummish roommates living in a semi-squat in the cool part of town. Other than our trendy Macbooks – which are almost always with us if we’re out of the house – and our cool, vintage clothing – which smells like cigarettes, beer and probably farts – we own more or less nothing of real, monetary value. After bumbling around, cursing himself for choosing a target that can’t be better than an actual homeless shelter (I don’t know, antiretrovirals are worth a pretty penny), I can only picture him calming himself down and forcibly thinking outside the box. First, he’d look at our television. It’s a tiny, ugly, boxy motherfucker, but it does have one interesting quality: a built-in VHS player.“Good lord!” he’d announce, prematurely, “that thing must be vintage!” However, after noticing that the only two accompanying VHS’ are There’s Something About Mary and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, he’d realize anyone owning a pristine vintage machine would have a savvier collection. Passing up these two films would no doubt be his loss, for the former is surprisingly funny in a 90s sort of way, and the latter surprisingly funny in a racist sort of way. Failing that, he’d most likely move on to our bookshelf. No doubt an uneducated Neanderthal, however, he’d likely be unable to properly value any of its contents and instead move on to the adjacent shelf which houses our breakfast cereals. “Despite this failing economy, cereal prices seem to be at an all-time high” I’m sure he’d remark, correctly, adding, “why, that box of Harvest Crunch could bring at least five-fifty to the right buyer!” I can only then imagine his frustration when, upon reaching for one of the many boxes, he finds them all far lighter than expected. Who does he think we are, the Kardashians? We don’t regularly stock cereals! No, dear friends, these boxes are merely decorative. “I should start doing that,” he would remark, for he is a thief not only of physical objects, but of brilliant ideas, as well. Grasping for straws, he would probably consider attempting to remove our appliances.However, upon opening the fridge, he would find the instantly accompanying four-hundred decibel whirr of the fan to be the hallmark of things not worth stealing. I made up the number four-hundred as I have no concept of decibels, but I’m sure had I not told you that, you would have bought it. In the end, I imagine this thief stealing something arbitrary, to keep as a reminder for such a failed outing. I imagine that item to be something small, easy to carry, and perhaps useful, like an Allen-key set. So Jack, no I didn’t fucking borrow and lose your dumb fucking Allen-keys: I have my own and they’re better. A fucking robber broke in and took them, now get off my back, dick.
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