Of Fame and Shame

On the day when the wagons come,
I just pray that you let me on.

My local hero came back. I shook his hand. The day before the supposed end of the world, I shook the hand of the apocolyptic evil-and-stupidity-punishing magic boogie man duke and told him that I love his stories. Maybe it had nothing to do with him; maybe I just wanted him to know who I was.

His hand was soft and squishy.


So I just want to say before I try to get some sleep, that I caught someone today. He took a cell phone case, opened it and stuffed the package behind a bunch of messy camera bags. Then he went over to an empty department, looked both ways and slipped the product into his coat pocket.

Rather than call the police, we told his mother and his mother just about beat his ass.

“I have MONEY for that. That isn’t even expensive. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” etc etc. In front of us he had to show everyone where he’d stuffed the package and I pretended to page the entire store with every little detail. Not only did I want him to be embarrassed and in trouble – I wanted the mother to remember it and consider getting to know her son a little better.



3 responses to “Of Fame and Shame

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