Okay
today I am very very tired
and I have hours of homework to do before I go to sleep
and I do not feel like doing research
so instead
I am going to tell you a story from my life
and if you have a problem with that
well
you can go re-read any of the 300-plus myths I already done told
I’m doing something different today, ok?
if we were in a committed romantic relationship, you and me
and instead of telling you myths I was having sex with you
well..
okay
first of all don’t take that metaphor the wrong way
but second of all I bet you would be POSITIVELY OVERJOYED
at the thought of me mixing shit up a little bit in the bedroom
because frankly I am pretty bad at sex
no matter how many songs I have written to the contrary
and really I’m just grateful you’ve agreed to sleep with me at all, dear reader
wait
look
okay
nevermind

SO THIS IS A STORY FROM WHEN I FIRST MOVED TO CHICAGO
this was what
like almost a year ago, now?
jeeze.
anyway, when I first moved to chicago I was staying in a pretty bad neighborhood
because I was waiting to move into an apartment i’d found
in a slightly less pretty bad neighborhood
and being a dumbass
I was headed back to the house one night at 3AM
walking down the sidewalk
and this skinny white dude with cornrows walks up next to me
like “Hey dude
wanna buy a gun?”
And I’m like “Uh
no!
Thank you!”
And he’s like “Oh ok.
…
Are you sure?”
And I’m like “yep! Thanks anyway!”
So he’s like “Ok, cool.”
Then he stops walking and I keep walking.

So I make it about another half a block when the dude catches up to me
he basically just runs up next to me and starts listing the features of the gun
he’s like “Dude, it’s a semiautomatic, colt 45, 13 in the clip, shoots hollow bees at your enemies”
whatever, I don’t know what guns are like
he was saying SOMETHING, is the point
and I’m just like “Really man, I appreciate your sales pitch, but I’m good
I sincerely do not need a firearm at this time.”
So he’s like “Alright, alright.
Well lemme ask you something then:
You got any money?
Cause I’m try’na get something to eat.”
So I think about the all of ten dollars I have in my wallet
and my no job
and the fact that this is already MAXIMALLY SHADY
and I say “Nah man, I’m sorry.”
so he steps around in front of me
and now I can see where his shirt’s tucked in over the gun he tried to sell me
and he’s like “Alright now I’m gonna ask you one more time
and I want you to be straight with me cause I don’t wanna have to put a couple in ya:
You got any money?
Cause I’m try’na get something to eat.”

Well fuuuuuuuuck.
This is what happens when you come home at 3AM, my friends
but like I said
I am a dumbass
so I think on my feet
and my feet, you see, don’t have shoes on them
because I don’t wear shoes
(this is a fact you should know about me, and now you do)
so I’m like “Man, I already got mugged.
See? They took my shoes!”
And he’s like “Well why didn’t they take your bag?”
pointing, of course, to the leather satchel I’m carrying
and also the bag of art supplies I just bought at Blick.
Nice.
But I’m already lying to the dude, I might as well own it
so I say “you wanna look in my bag? There is NOTHING worth taking in my bag.”
And he’s like “Nah man, it’s cool. But what about THAT?”
(he’s pointing at my cell phone, which is bulging in my pocket)
and at this point, against all odds, I’m starting to get angry
so I pull out my phone
which is this battlescarred piece of shit
that I have at various points used as both a juggling prop and a weapon for beaning cats with
and I’m like “Do you want my shitty phone? Here. Take my shitty phone.”
and he’s like “Nah man, I don’t want your shitty phone.
What about your wallet?”
And I’m like “Uh… they took my wallet
you know
when they mugged me?”
And he’s like “WHAT ABOUT YOUR WALLET??”
And I’m thinking “fuck, okay
it is better to lose my wallet than get shot and maybe death-humped by this crazy asshole
so I fish out my wallet and I hand it to him
and he opens it up
and he pulls out the ten dollars that are in there
and he’s like “Ten dollars?”

“I don’t want your ten dollars”
and he puts the money back in my wallet and hands it to me like it stinks
and then he turns around and walks away
and I’m basically about to shit myself at this point, obviously
when he turns around and he’s like “Hey man
are you staying around here?”
And I’m like “Yeah, why?”
And he’s like “My name’s Keith. I live at this house right over here.
If you ever need anything, hit me up!”
And I’m like “Alright man… will do…”
Then he’s like “Hey, did somebody really steal your shoes?”
And like I said, I was already committed to the lie so I’m like “Yeah, man.”
of course he asks me what kind of shoes they were
so I stutter a little bit and then tell him I’m a rare shoe collector
and that they were a limited edition pair of jordans
at which point he tells me he probably knows who took them
and that we can go over to their house right now
and beat the shit out of them and get my shoes back.
I had to talk him down and convince him that I had plenty more shoes back home.
Then he tried to sell me weed.
I do not know where he thought I was going to get the money.
He had, after all, seen my wallet.

So, I guess the moral of the story
is that the most effective anti-theft measure
is being poor.

The end.