Shoplifting
When I was young and impressionable and on holiday in France, I followed some friends into a sweet shop and we each stole something. I was so mortified by this, I returned them.
My lack of French hampered this somewhat - they had no idea why the small English boy wanted to add some chews to the open box, and saw it as an attempt by a nasty foreigner oik to contaminate their stock. Not my best day.
What have you lifted?
( , Thu 10 Jan 2008, 11:13)
When I was young and impressionable and on holiday in France, I followed some friends into a sweet shop and we each stole something. I was so mortified by this, I returned them.
My lack of French hampered this somewhat - they had no idea why the small English boy wanted to add some chews to the open box, and saw it as an attempt by a nasty foreigner oik to contaminate their stock. Not my best day.
What have you lifted?
( , Thu 10 Jan 2008, 11:13)
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Shells.
As a younger Guilt, I was a little swotty bastard of a student, with a painful streak of law and rule abiding-ness (Still am to a certain extent) one of them ones where if you were with the teacher being taught how to read and the like (yes, that young) and was stuck on a word that would lean over your shoulder and tell you the right pronunciation and have a smarmy little grin plastered on his face.
Anyways, as I said, I was painfully law abiding and the like, taking a sweet when I was not allowed was a cardinal sin and I would be swept straight up into the maws of Satan's festering anus. But one thing made me go against the grain, one thing more precious than all was worth risking my eternal soul...
It was a fucking sea shell.
We had a little collection of interesting rocks and sea shells in one corner of the class room, that our tutor would add to every now and again. One day this one shell was added. It was like a coloured, speckly tightly bound turd from the sea and it was to be mine. So I planned and planned, I did not want the shell to be kept about my person once the heist had been pulled of, in case I was searched and found out. So come the day I swiped the shell just as every 1 else was going out for playtime, so no one would see and ran to the cloakroom to hide the precious in my PE kit bag.
Childrens minds what they are, I soon forgot of my illicit cargo because CHRIST IT WAS PLAYTIME, LETS PLAY TIG!
Come PE the next day, I get on my kit and we all toddle down to the hall to do whatever form of sport a young child can, and while warming up it happens. The precious falls from my shorts where it had hidden itself!
Oh the shame.
Oh the horror!
Oh... no ones noticed.
I swipe the shell up, and so wracked with guilt and near shitting myself at almost been caught and sent to prison am I that I pocket the shell and wait till next lunch time to put it back in its place.
I think my soul is safe now. At least from the repercussions of shell thievery...
( , Wed 16 Jan 2008, 14:06, Reply)
As a younger Guilt, I was a little swotty bastard of a student, with a painful streak of law and rule abiding-ness (Still am to a certain extent) one of them ones where if you were with the teacher being taught how to read and the like (yes, that young) and was stuck on a word that would lean over your shoulder and tell you the right pronunciation and have a smarmy little grin plastered on his face.
Anyways, as I said, I was painfully law abiding and the like, taking a sweet when I was not allowed was a cardinal sin and I would be swept straight up into the maws of Satan's festering anus. But one thing made me go against the grain, one thing more precious than all was worth risking my eternal soul...
It was a fucking sea shell.
We had a little collection of interesting rocks and sea shells in one corner of the class room, that our tutor would add to every now and again. One day this one shell was added. It was like a coloured, speckly tightly bound turd from the sea and it was to be mine. So I planned and planned, I did not want the shell to be kept about my person once the heist had been pulled of, in case I was searched and found out. So come the day I swiped the shell just as every 1 else was going out for playtime, so no one would see and ran to the cloakroom to hide the precious in my PE kit bag.
Childrens minds what they are, I soon forgot of my illicit cargo because CHRIST IT WAS PLAYTIME, LETS PLAY TIG!
Come PE the next day, I get on my kit and we all toddle down to the hall to do whatever form of sport a young child can, and while warming up it happens. The precious falls from my shorts where it had hidden itself!
Oh the shame.
Oh the horror!
Oh... no ones noticed.
I swipe the shell up, and so wracked with guilt and near shitting myself at almost been caught and sent to prison am I that I pocket the shell and wait till next lunch time to put it back in its place.
I think my soul is safe now. At least from the repercussions of shell thievery...
( , Wed 16 Jan 2008, 14:06, Reply)
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