And you might not care, but I’ve been tagged (see yesterday’s post) and by thunder, I’m gonna do my part!
#2.
I once stole a dollar’s worth of dimes from the Brownie dues box when my mom was the Brownie leader in Lakeside, California. My sister was a Brownie, I was just a bratty younger sister. Why did I steal these shiny tempting dimes? Simple. When my mom went to get her hair done, there was a soda machine that dispensed Coke in ice cold bottles for a dime apiece. I figured if I had a good supply of dimes, I would always be assured if my icy old Coca Cola. It was a bit of an obsession. Something about putting the dime in the slot, pushing the button and then almost instant gratification of that bottle… Coke never tasted so good. So every time there was a Brownie meeting at our house, I’d sneak a couple of dimes out of it, figuring no one would ever be the wiser. Until the day my sister caught me. “Mom, Dana’s stealing from the Brownie box!” was immediately clarioned through the house in the clear self-righteous tones that only an older sister could muster. I was grounded for a good long time.
Oddly enough, during this same period I also stole a box of Milk Duds from a local market. I didn’t get caught, but I felt so guilty that after I ate the candy, I buried the incriminating box under a pile of horse manure.
Go figure…
And today I tag… Dani!!!!
I sentence you to purchase a box of girl scout cookies for each dime, each year, forever…
Hey stranger.
So bad! Stealing from the brownie box? Imagine the course your life could have taken had your sister not checked you.
Oh, Peggy, I’ve already bought and eaten my share of GS cookies…Thin Mints kept in the freezer, doncha know… Sadly they’ve gone so much up in price, I couldn’t afford to buy 10 boxes each year… sniffle. But nice eye for an eye karmic sentence!
Heh. So true, Jen. So very true…
Tee hee – you little clepto. I can’t talk – I stole stuff too. Worst I ever stole was a Playboy magazine when I was oh, mebbe fourteen. Couldn’t help it. I just hadda do it. Browsing through the ladies underwear section of the Sears & Roebuck catalog just wasn’t gettin it anymore. (sheepish grin)
I suppose the proper sentence would be semi-burial in cookie-dough. Though the statute of limitations would certainly be voided by the passage of time. The worst thing I ever did was as a five year old. It was my birthday and a neighbor had just given me a five dollar bill. My 5 year old mind simply could not translate that green piece of paper into something in the least valuable or desirable. So, according to mom, I threw back the bill with the immortal phrase: “S–t! I don’t want this!” Swift discipline followed and, believe me, I learned some things that day. One, never EVER use bad language in front of mom. Two, always accept gifts which are well meant. Even if they are Chia Pets. I suppose I turned out all right, though mom might still quibble about my love of good horror fantasy. But who’s perfect? LOL.
Hey now, MM, a klepto would imply I stole all the time! 🙂 I learned my lesson, I did! Why am I not surprised that a 14 year old boy would steal a Playboy…
Jack…that’s both very funny and also one of those things that would certainly be a life lesson. You were out five bucks, my friend! And ain’t nothing wrong with horror fantasy! Lock and load!
I think everybody must go through a Klepto phase at that age – developed enough manual dexterity to swipe things but not the sense to do the right thing. Then again, of course there’s the Karl Rove & Ken Lay types who apparently never grew out of it…
-D
Heh. I wonder what Karl and Ken stole when THEY were kids…