You can call me Teef

I'd like to start today's blog post off with a sincere apology to all of my readers. I went five days without posting and I find this unacceptable. I've been a bit sidetracked with work, fatherhood, and my social life. From this point forward my goal is to post every day of the week with the exclusion of weekends. Let's see if I can make this goal happen, now let us continue on with the story...

We went looking for Sanjai but could not find him anywhere, needless to say I feared the worst. As the evening sun was setting I heard the phone ring, it was him on the other line when I answered. Sanj went onto tell me he had been caught red handed and busted. The police picked him up, brought him to the station, and booked him for theft under $5000.00. The part of the story that shocked me the most was the fact that his mother decided not to tell his father about it, as he was a very abusive man. This blew my mind considering my entire life growing up I had always begged my mother not to tell my dad whenever I got in trouble, but like the faithful wife she was, she could never keep a secret from him or lie to him. I was sad that my best friend got busted but at the same time I was thankful he didn't have to endure the verbal humiliation and physical ass whooping that his raging father was known for.

The summer of 87' had now incurred the first and last negative blow. I can't remember if Sanj learned his lesson or if he kept up with the thievery, but I was bringing my theft tactics to knew heights. It seemed I had the uncanny ability to steal anything at anytime and never get caught. Sometimes I'd steal things right in front of my friends without them even noticing, that's how good I was. My catch phrase was now a line I had modified from the RUN D.M.C. song "Hit it run" and it went a little something like this:

"How devastating can an mc be? 

My name is Theo, but you can call me Teef! Hit it Run!" 

Every time I teefed something unbeknownst to my friends in company, I would sing that line and reveal whatever I had stolen, which always got hilarious reactions from my friends. Most the stuff I stole was smut, books, magazines, art supplies, batteries, cassettes, and pranks from the "It store" such as fart bombs and whoopee cushions. Whatever I needed to amuse me essentially. I stole a lot of tapes from the various record stores in the mall, mainly because I browsed there a lot and all the clerks saw me as "that kid with no money who never buys anything but browses all the time" so they wouldn't even pay attention to me when I was in the store. In fact I had became such a mall rat that it got to the point where clerks in stores treated me like a ghost. They never so much as said hello or even looked at me, so I figured "Fuck it. Nobody's watching me"

I got so pro at stealing that my friends started paying me to steal things for them, which would be the way I made all my money the first and second year of highschool. I just didn't know it at the time...

Who needs wishes when you can steal things?