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An Illustrated Life

#Thief

The day I became thief.

As children, I think we are very much affected by what we see on TV. That is why I got a washer stuck on my finger thinking it was a planet power ring, and why my brothers stabbed each other with fake arrows after watching the TMNT. This is why commercials exist, because when any product is paired with bright colors and a catchy jingle, small children will want it.

I was at the store with my mother one day when my 4-year-old attention was drawn by something that I had been coveting for days, due to the fact that you couldn’t watch an episode of the muppet babys without seeing at least 3 ads for the accursed things.

The things that had the catchiest jiingle of them all, and that I knew for a fact were eaten by only the raddest, hacky-sackiest, most totally tubular dudes.

This bright shining cylinder of the gods had me in its spell. I knew that once I had popped, there would be no stopping. I wanted to know such an addiction. 

I asked my mother if we could get them, but things were as usual rather tight in that department. Oh how I yearned for them!

I wanted them bad enough that I would do anything, even steal. Not from the store, such a thing would be unfathomable, but rather from my mother. Plans started filling my head rapidly and feverishly, there had to be some way to get the Pringles home. In my young wisdom, I concluded that the simplest plan would be my victory. I would put the canned chips in the cart regardless of her wishes.

There was a small problem though. Carts were not designed for the shopping convenience of 4-year-olds. I certainly did not posses the jumping skills of Super Mario.

And I was no Micheal Jordan.

Eventually though, I did get the precious cargo into my mighty chariot of villainy.

Then began the longest 12 minutes of my life. The chip isle being roughly half way through the store, we still had to traverse the rest of the building. Every time my mom would deposit another item in the cart I thought for sure I would be found out. It was torture.

At last we reached the checkout, and somehow the chips were rung up unnoticed. My heart nearly stopped as the loud beeping noise trumpeted my conquest.

I could not believe my fortune, I had made it home with my prize! Now all I had to do was find a way to eat them unnoticed. Until that is…

I was caught!

My mother had found me out. Of course she had! How could I have been so careless in my plan? The thrill of near victory must have gotten to my head.

Surely I was to be punished, crimes such as this were not taken lightly. Suddenly though, I remembered that I had one weapon left at my disposal..

That’s right dear friends, I overcame my mothers anger with big eyes and pouted lips. With little more self respect than a “you got it dude” I had lowered myself to a level of cuteness that was only to be used in the most dire of circumstances. Or like, when you really want something.

Thrilling in my victory, I chose that rather than keep the morsels to myself I would share the wealth.


I became the self proclaimed chip-fairy. Every member of my sizable family was to spend the next 3 hours being handed a single chip in turn, as I made a pop sound with my mouth. If they wanted 2 chips at a time, or even just the option of getting their own, too bad! The chip fairy has strict rules that must always be followed.

Near the bottom of the barrel, I realized that I myself had not yet tried the chips. I reached in and took a greasy golden oval, putting in my mouth with the greatest of care. As my taste buds sprang to attention, taking in the new flavor experience like a new father takes his baby for the first time, they were met with disappointment. Why, these chips tasted like nothing more than normal potato chips! I was expecting an electric shock sensation running down my spine, I was expecting fireworks, flying monkeys, anything! I should have gotten sour cream and onion.

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