The cursed, holy, pound coin.
When I was nine I stole a pound from the church collection. My friends at the time had told me to do it and I obviously succumbed to the peer pressure. I later produced this pound when purchasing sweets; to which my best mate stared at me and horror and said "you didn't ACTUALLY do that did you?!"

Skip forward seven years, I was at a (now ex) boyfriend's house having a pizza-and-movie fest with all our friends. Someone then brought up this 'holy pound' stealage, to which I laughed and said how it was only £1 and that I thought God and Jesus etc was a load of bollocks anyway, so it didn't matter... I turned around at the presence of my boyfriend's Mum, a devout Christian, staring at me as if she had walked in to spot Satan on her sofa.

I never went around there again.

Except the time when we were all in a big group in the park and I broke one of his go-karts that his Dad had made. I helped lift it back to his house and merely dissolved into an uncomfortable silence when asked how the steering stick thing had got broken off.

I swear that bloody coin cursed me. I swear.

[my first post!!! wooyay]
(greengreen, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 21:24, Reply)