Short Story #4

Familial Criminal

Dear Journal,
I knew I would get away with it. They are so stupid, those cops. I swear I could outsmart them every day of my life. They have no idea what they’re doing; it’s hilarious. Every time they think the have me, I get away. And then I see the look on their faces, and it’s priceless. I stump them every time and they never seem to get it.

Well, I got away with the money and that’s all I care about. Now I can live my life because I know they will never be able to catch me. They have tried and tried again, but they never succeed. I don’t even do anything different each time. I am kind of surprised they haven’t figured it out yet. All I end up doing is slipping out the back.

The cops are overrated anyway. I honestly don’t think they are as smart as people think because they obviously are not accomplishing anything. They got to the bank when I was already done collecting all the money. Then when they actually got inside, I was already out back and leaving.

They really don’t have a good strategy for getting criminals. Not that I’m calling myself a criminal because I totally don’t think so. I am just doing whatever it takes to provide for my family, just doing whatever is necessary. There is nothing in the world I wouldn’t do to provide for my family; I love them so much. And if this is what I have to do—rob banks on a daily basis—then I’m going to do it, hands down.

What was that? Wait…hold on.

Okay, it’s alright. I thought I heard something outside. It wasn’t anything. You see, for a few hours after I steal, I have to be on watch, just in case the cops decide to be intelligent. I have to be completely silent wherever I decide to hide out. I have to observe all noises and investigate in case it actually is the cops. I am very precise about these thin—

I had to check out another noise in the basement. I’m back now, though. It wasn’t anything, as far as I can tell. But really at any moment I have to be ready to leave if someone does turn up. I, however, don’t—

I didn’t think it would happen, but it did. We have to move. They came in from the basement window. Gotta run now!

Whoo, I got away. I cant believe it. They were right behind me and somehow I got away. Those cops may be stupid, but they sure can run fast. I’m tellin’ ya, I’m winded. I—

Oh, crap.

I guess I’m the stupid one after all.

Dialogue Poem

Unnoticed

Shuffling through coins and making the money

Rifling through bills, just working and working

I know you work hard, but I feel alone

I feel unappreciated, bored, and unknown

I count them and put them in piles of two

Working hard for the money for me and you

We don’t talk anymore, it’s like you ignore me

We’re married, I know, but who knows if you love me?

All day and all night, I provide for the family

My passion has turned into more than a hobby

You love your work; I know that, I do

But once in a while, you could care for me, too

This one goes here and this one goes there

Hundreds and hundreds to sort ‘til we’re there

Short Story #3

My Best Friend

I sit on my bottom on the floor like a good girl. I did a bad thing. Maybe I will get in trouble. I start to cry because I’m sad. My mommy comes over to me and puts her arms around me. “Honey, it’s okay. It was just an accident. Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No, mommy, I broke it.” I was crying really hard.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. We can buy you a brand new piggy bank.”

“I broke it. My piggy.” My mommy told me I had my piggy since I was borned. And then I knocked it off the dresser. I can’t believe it. I broke my piggy and now I am sad.

My mommy, calm and comforting, seems fine with it. She is not mad. I thought she would be mad at me. I mean, I broke my piggy. My piggy was always nice to me. It kept my money safe. And I broke it. I hurt its feelings; I hurt it really badly. Maybe I can fix it.

“Mommy, I need to fix my piggy.”

“Honey, why don’t we just get a brand new one?”

“No! I wanna fix this one!” Why did she want me to get a new one? Why does she want to replace my piggy?

“Okay, okay. It’s alright. We’ll fix it, okay? You want me to get Daddy to help us?”

“Yeah,” I said, whining.

***

I get my glue and all of the pieces to my piggy. Then I wait for Mommy and Daddy to come back into the room. I sit down at the table and look at my poor piggy.

My mommy and daddy come back with some things to help make my piggy better. Daddy has glue and Mommy has…something else. It looks like a tool. I don’t know what it is. But anything that will heal my piggy is okay with me.

We use Daddy’s glue because he says it will make it stick better. We try to put every piece back together, but it doesn’t work. My piggy keeps falling apart. We can’t fix my piggy at all. I am sad again.

***

We are walking in Wal-Mart trying to find a new piggy bank for me. We come to the right place and I get to pick the one I want. I do not want another one, but now I don’t have a choice. I pick another pretty pink one. I carry it to where we pay and the whole way home.

I remember where I put my money after my other piggy broke, so when I get home, I quickly put it in the new one. I have to keep my money safe. When I see that the new piggy is doing a good job, I pat it on its back. I am happy again. I have a new best friend, even though I will always miss the other one.