the thing i am to relate here fills me with embarrassment
The young Fuckpig (and I am still quite young,though not nearly as cheerily stupid) was a boy obsessed with his own abilities.he could play chess like a grandmaster,play piano,draw,sing,write and talk for hours on a number of interesting and abstract topics.
Of course,all that went south once i became a neurotic teenager.these things do.
-wibbly lines-
The summer of two thousand-odd was glorious.i was young,carefree and pompous.having read most of the Bunny and Raffles stories over the spring,i was convinced i had it in me to be a master criminal,devilish,naughty and playful with the ladies.An Arsene Lupin in short trousers,if you will.
One night,after a little drinky-wink (alright,it was really maybe a couple of glasses of the old Pinot grigio,but i've never been one to hold my booze) I had reached a stage of comfortable self-confidence.lacking proper diversions,my mate of fifteen years suggested an amble up to the local pub to see what we could steal.
And so,hiccoughing slightly,the young Fuckpig and companion swayed up the road,discussing earnestly what we could get away with.my friend,being of the sort of indefatigably brave sort had his eye on a bottle of booze and some cigarettes.Five-finger discount.lovely.
As we entered,the drunk old shopkeeper eyed us beadily and gave us a frowning 'evenin''.right,thinks I,time for some A-grade cleverness.
in my drunken state,I was feeling boisterous and rebellious.I walked calmly up to the sweet-rack,took a pack of minstrels off the shelf,gave a cheery smile,a 'good evening!' to the shopkeeper,and wandered out.
Waking up the next day,compus mentus,if a little haggard,i reflected on my crime.I had stolen.With no wit or guile.I had quite clearly left with unpaid goods.i was going to prison for sure.He would call the police.I was doomed to a criminal record and a tarnished reputation.My mind was full of thoughts of prison,being picked on for being puny and girlish,being beaten to a pulp and all the horrid,illogical things that occur to us when we feel guilty.
This,friends,was the worst moment of my life and the most embarrassment i have ever felt.I considered my options.Running away over some stolen sweets would really be a step to far.i awaited the arrival of the police at my door with a pounding heart.
The moment never came.It hung over me for months,like a neurotic thundercloud.
This morning the police came to my door,looking for any kind of information on a suspected carjacking in our area.and i suddenly felt the horror,the embarassment and the fear all over again.
a life in crime has been ruined by my one drunken mistake.This is my embarassment.
Length?A long stretch in prison over some stolen confectionary.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Fri 28 Nov 2008, 14:04, Reply)