PROLOGUE
I've been told I'm not a nice guy. That's probably true. The fact that I don't care would seem to reinforce the evaluation.
It's not that I go out of my way to hurt people - not in the physical sense anyway - but I steal from them so that does kinda hurt I guess. But where's the harm when the victims can afford it and the stuff is just sitting there looking pretty?
My dad always used to say people would find ways to justify anything they did and the more they did it, the more they would justify it. I'd love to say that was a load of bollocks because my old man was a drunken dickhead but fact is - I can't because it's true.
From politics to religion to wife-bashing, the perpetrators all have arguments to support their case. Mostly anyway.
Me, I'm no different. Instead of languishing in squalor, living off state handouts and drinking myself into oblivion every day, I feed off the private sector like a ramora on the underbelly of a lazy shark.
Maybe you think that's a bad analogy. I mean there's supposed to be a symbiosis in those kinds of relationships but if you offer me some latitude here, I do provide a service. While I might not be freeing the mink and manure sharks of parasites, I am liberating them in another sense - and I don't just mean by purloining unnecessary assets - I am unburdening them from onerous attachment.
Yeah, I know. Sounds like bullshit and probably is but when you see how these sparkling-eyed socialites get hooked on material trinkets, it really shifts their focus from the more profound aspects of existence such as their emotional and spiritual needs. They're so wrapped up in the outer image that their inner selves are starving. It's a nauseating circus of nips, tucks, sports cars, lavish houses, designer labels, over-refined foods that are cooked by underpaid servants and expansive, unvisited gardens that could provide accommodation to thousands of underprivileged souls across the country.
And it's not just sour grapes either. They've got it so I wanna take it away. No. The backlash from disgruntled men who've cultivated a hatred for all things opulent and blame it on the previous regime, has resulted in mindless rape and murder whereas I rob the rich and it takes them until the next time they check the safe before they find out. I don't need to unload y'see. Even though the old man wallowed in a morass of loathing and self-pity for most of his life, my mom gave me a solid upbringing with a balanced set of values. Values, that is, that conform to a middle class, middle of the road, don't challenge the system kind of mindset.
I watched and I learned and ultimately I chose.
Not a career in medicine, nor in law (not in the conventional sense that is), nor in construction or in engineering (although I was adept in many of those areas) - I chose a career in property: other people's. And I acquired it through unlawful albeit creative, innovative methodology.
I was a thief. A damn good one. Or had been until now.
Let me tell you how I got here.
Where?
Standing over a corpse in a darkened bedroom - someone else's bedroom - with all escape routes cut off. I didn't do murder. I hadn't done murder. But looking at it from anyone else's perspective I would have nicked myself under these circumstances.
Fuck! This wasn't good.
(Would you want to read more of this story?)
I've been told I'm not a nice guy. That's probably true. The fact that I don't care would seem to reinforce the evaluation.
It's not that I go out of my way to hurt people - not in the physical sense anyway - but I steal from them so that does kinda hurt I guess. But where's the harm when the victims can afford it and the stuff is just sitting there looking pretty?
My dad always used to say people would find ways to justify anything they did and the more they did it, the more they would justify it. I'd love to say that was a load of bollocks because my old man was a drunken dickhead but fact is - I can't because it's true.
From politics to religion to wife-bashing, the perpetrators all have arguments to support their case. Mostly anyway.
Me, I'm no different. Instead of languishing in squalor, living off state handouts and drinking myself into oblivion every day, I feed off the private sector like a ramora on the underbelly of a lazy shark.
Maybe you think that's a bad analogy. I mean there's supposed to be a symbiosis in those kinds of relationships but if you offer me some latitude here, I do provide a service. While I might not be freeing the mink and manure sharks of parasites, I am liberating them in another sense - and I don't just mean by purloining unnecessary assets - I am unburdening them from onerous attachment.
Yeah, I know. Sounds like bullshit and probably is but when you see how these sparkling-eyed socialites get hooked on material trinkets, it really shifts their focus from the more profound aspects of existence such as their emotional and spiritual needs. They're so wrapped up in the outer image that their inner selves are starving. It's a nauseating circus of nips, tucks, sports cars, lavish houses, designer labels, over-refined foods that are cooked by underpaid servants and expansive, unvisited gardens that could provide accommodation to thousands of underprivileged souls across the country.
And it's not just sour grapes either. They've got it so I wanna take it away. No. The backlash from disgruntled men who've cultivated a hatred for all things opulent and blame it on the previous regime, has resulted in mindless rape and murder whereas I rob the rich and it takes them until the next time they check the safe before they find out. I don't need to unload y'see. Even though the old man wallowed in a morass of loathing and self-pity for most of his life, my mom gave me a solid upbringing with a balanced set of values. Values, that is, that conform to a middle class, middle of the road, don't challenge the system kind of mindset.
I watched and I learned and ultimately I chose.
Not a career in medicine, nor in law (not in the conventional sense that is), nor in construction or in engineering (although I was adept in many of those areas) - I chose a career in property: other people's. And I acquired it through unlawful albeit creative, innovative methodology.
I was a thief. A damn good one. Or had been until now.
Let me tell you how I got here.
Where?
Standing over a corpse in a darkened bedroom - someone else's bedroom - with all escape routes cut off. I didn't do murder. I hadn't done murder. But looking at it from anyone else's perspective I would have nicked myself under these circumstances.
Fuck! This wasn't good.
(Would you want to read more of this story?)
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