Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Day 22: Infant Thievery--Part One

            Everyone knows raising a child is an expensive business.  And that is why I don’t really blame my parents for making me into what I am today.
            My training began at an early age.  By early I mean early.  
            I was six months old when I first began.  I wasn’t even potty-trained yet, but my parents needed the money and what better way to get it through an innocent little baby like me.
            If you haven’t figured it out by now I am a thief and I have been since I was six months old.  My parents were clever.  Very clever indeed.  Who else have you heard of that teaches a six-month-old baby to steal and pickpocket before he could even walk? 
            It started with my dad teaching me to remove his wristwatch.  I got better and better at that until he only noticed because he knew it was coming.  Next, we moved on to pockets.  Within two weeks I could remove a handkerchief without them noticing, and in three I could swipe a wallet.
            After this my parents started going to rich people’s parties.  They weren’t ever invited, but because I was so cute we were just let inside.  Everyone just assumed someone else at the party had invited them when they really hadn’t been invited at all.  Once inside, they passed me around.  Most everyone was eager to hold cute little me and as they did I worked my magic.  Snatching wallets, expensive wristwatches, diamond earrings and necklaces, and anything else that would be worth any amount of money. 
            After the parties, they would wonder who had stolen from them, but by then my parents and I were gone with our loot.
            I quickly progressed in my stealing skills, and by the age of two I was robbing banks.  At such a low height, I could walk around without being noticed.  Even if I was noticed, the bank’s staff would just get confused looks on their faces, as they wondered how I had gotten into the safe.  They never suspected a toddler to be a thief, so things went very well for me. 
            By four I was cracking some of the hardest safes in the world and stealing millions of dollars. 
            We were quite well off by the time I turned five.  My parents decided it was time to stop with the stealing.  Unfortunately for them, my life didn’t seem fulfilled if I wasn’t stealing and robbing banks.  I had to wait until I was older though, because they would definitely notice if their five-year-old son wasn’t around. 
            So I bided my time.

                

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