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The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman.The Most Unusual Thing I Ever Stole? A Snowman
The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman. Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mute beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate with a mind as cold as the slice of ice within my own brain. I started with the head. Better off dead than giving in, not taking what you want. He weighed a ton; his torso, frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chill piercing my gut. Part of the thrill was knowing that children would cry in the morning. Life's tough. Sometimes I steal things I don't need. I joy-ride cars to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look. I'm a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a camera. I watch my gloved hand twisting the doorknob. A stranger's bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this - Aah. It took some time. Reassembled in the yard, he didn't look the same. I took a run and booted him. Again. Again. My breath ripped out in rags. It seems daft now. Then I was standing alone among lumps of snow, sick of the world. Boredom. Mostly I'm so bored I could eat myself. One time, I stole a guitar and thought I might learn to play. I nicked a bust of Shakespeare once, flogged it, but the snowman was the strangest. You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?
What is the most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman. It was midnight. He looked amazing; a tall, white silent figure under the winter moon. I wanted him, a companion with a mind as cold as the piece of ice inside my own head. I began with the head. Better to be dead than to give in, to not take what you desire. He was very heavy; his body, frozen solid, pressed against my chest, a strong cold piercing my stomach. Part of the excitement was knowing that children would cry in the morning. Life is hard. Sometimes I take things I don't need. I steal cars for fun, break into homes just to see. I'm a messy ghost, leave a mess, maybe steal a camera. I see my gloved hand turning the doorknob. A stranger's bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this - Aah. It took a while. Put back together in the yard, he didn't look the same. I ran and kicked him. Again. Again. My breath came out in pieces. It seems silly now. Then I was standing alone among piles of snow, tired of the world. Boredom. Mostly I'm so bored I could eat myself. One time, I stole a guitar and thought I might learn to play. I once stole a bust of Shakespeare, sold it, but the snowman was the weirdest. You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?