“And what makes you think you are qualified for this job as robber, sneak thief, cat burglar and assassin ma’am? We take, you must understand, only the highest and most elite”
“Oh yes! I most certainly understand. What makes me qualified, you ask? Well, I was but 10 when I stole from a store, not one, but three entire rose petals which I then, heartlessly lost. And, my most memorable theft was at a family function when, right under the noses of not one, but fifteen people, I stole an empty wrapper. Now, if that doesn’t make me qualified, I must ask you, what does?”
Unfortunately, I cannot lie and say that I am not the second speaker. Nor can I lie and say, I have not performed those above two great acts of thievery. You see, I have the mind and instincts of a great thief and the heart and conscience of a snivelling scaredy cat. I am saddened to say that they are not the best combination.
Today, I went to a family function where there was very spicy food and a bunch of elderly and middle aged people talking. Everyone who wasn’t elderly or middle aged was found cooing over the baby.
Me? I do not fit in with the elderly (though they were very nice to me), the middle aged (mom, dad, if you do not like me calling you middle aged, well then, I am naturally not talking about you when I say middle aged) and I did not fit in very well with the college girl, the girl my age or the annoying/cute girl in primary.
Why? Well, my social skills are rather undeveloped. Although all the other ‘kids’ were very nice, I could not think of intelligent words to say. I laughed at their jokes. I grinned when I wasn’t laughing. I offered my name in this weird voice which always comes to me when I haven’t used my voice for long.
In reality, I was busy thinking of what the heck was going to happen to Eleanor and Park from, um, Eleanor and Park. You see, I am a terrible guest as I took along my Kindle (E-reader) and was busy in the magic of Rainbow Rowell’s writing. It was rather a shock when I looked up from a school bus to the faces of a thousand relatives.
Do not misunderstand me. I love relatives. It is possible to love something and be terrified of it. Example, I love dogs; I am terrified of them. Relatives pose the same situation. Heck, forget relatives. PEOPLE cause that situation. This is why I like staying in my room with friends as weird as me or with online people weirder than me (Just kidding, love y’all… don’t kill me)
After watching everyone try and get the very cute baby to move (he was so little. I liked the baby a lot as he was excellent company as Park showed up at Eleanor’s house. He was asleep on a kind sized bed and I had a little corner with pillows and blankets and everything. He slept; I read; There was AC. Bliss), my parents said it was time to leave.
I said a quick ‘bye’ to all my second and third cousins who smiled on the outside and rejoiced on the inside (their very weird cousin who resembled a goldfish was FINALLY leaving)
My parents were saying more ‘byes’ as I looked on the top of the refrigerator. I saw some very cute printed glasses, some money and an empty wrapper. My ‘thief’ instincts were awake.
I looked around. No one was watching. It was my chance!
My chance to what? To prove. To prove that I could survive in a post-apocalypse world! To prove I could survive on the mean streets! And to prove I could. (Not that I could ever take something that didn’t belong to me. That will be verified as we continue the story)
I took two coins (which would have not been much use even if I had taken them forever as they would barely have bought anything) and carefully placed them back. My conscience would not allow me to remove the coins from the top of the refrigerator.
I considered taking the glass. This time my conscience did not allow me to even touch the glasses.
My instincts wanted me to steal. For PROOF. So I gave up, groaned in disgust and took the wrapper. Even then, my conscience was yelling at me. I convinced my conscience that it was a good thing as I had saved them the trouble of throwing it in the garbage.
Even then my conscience screamed things like “What if that wrapper is lined with gold?” “What if that wrapper is made of powder that is going to help a poor girl beat cancer?”
I firmly told it to shut up and put it in my bag. I felt like a total badass as I walked out. I felt like the guys (and girl) from Italian Job.
I told my mom and dad about my great thievery. They burst out laughing.
I was deeply offended. I was even more offended as I realized I had not turned off the fan and my dad remarked that if I had stolen the money, it would have helped pay the bill.
(P.S- In that entire function, the most entertaining conversation I had went as follows:
Lady: Do you want some Thirukkanamudhu (indian sweet)?
Me: Oh no thank you, I am fu-
Lady to my left (ltmf): You don’t like?
Me: Nono! I lik-
Man to my right (mtmr): You’re not having?
ltml: She does not like it
Me: No, I lik-
ltml: How can you say you don’t like Thirukkanamudhu?