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Array
(
[sid] => 70856
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Post-Its
[time] => 2004-11-09 20:25:52
[hometext] => not a poem but a story from the past
[bodytext] => Typically being a good kid, I had never experienced any sort of harsh punishment. Up until I was nine years old I had never once been grounded, and let me tell you being grounded is no slice of apple pie. I guess I can not say I blame my parents for this extreme injustice; on the contrary, the whole incident was basically my fault. After all what kind of a parent would be ok receiving a call from Albertsons telling them their daughter in the 4th grade had just stolen post its and they need to come pick her up. I do not entirely remember what possessed me to take the brightly colored square paper with sticky backs. All though I do know I was not in the scheme alone, my good friend Angela took part in the crazy act. Our days of thieving started when she taught me how to fake pay for candy, by pretending to drop nickels into a metal can by clanking our thumbs on the side to imitate the noise of a coin falling. We then would indulge ourselves in the perfectly wrapped world of taffy and peppermints. I at the time, never considered this to be a serious crime, I thought it would be somewhat okay. Now the Post It idea came to us when we decided to start a club, and being in this newly found club we wanted to keep notes and decorate our rooms in official club business. It was December 1997 when Angela’s mother took us to our local Albertsons and we figured she would reject our plead of buying Post Its for us, so we decided to simply undo the packaged paper and slip them into our Pocahontas backpack. I remember being terribly nervous as Angela’s older brother Andrew approached us and told us were we dumb and would get caught. Angela shrugged and I glanced at her beginning to question our plan, Andrew simply shook his head and said HECK, for all you two geniuses know that guy could be a cop! as he pointed to a tall man in a grey sweater pushing a shopping cart past our aisle. Yea right! we laughed as we finished stuffing the backpack and began heading to meet her mom. A sense of relief came over us as we headed out those swinging doors of Albertsons, smiles glued to our faces as our minds went wild on the past event. All of a sudden a man raced out of the doors and confronted Angela’s mom, the same man in the grey sweater who pushed the shopping cart. Uh-oh. I knew we were in for it as the man asked to see our bag, Angela slowly handed him the bag and as he unzipped the backpack we began to cry. Once the purse was opened he discovered at least six Post It pads freshly opened from their packages. We then were escorted to the security office and awaited my mother’s arrival. Angela and I continued to ball as we were scorned and disciplined for our actions. I remember my mother taking me home and having a long discussion with our entire family. I must say however that I am glad I was caught; I learned my lesson and was scared out of my mind to ever steal anything again. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 43 [informant] => kalabre [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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