Every day I walk past the police station on my way to work and I grin to myself; the silly bastards have no idea. This guilty grin is my guilty pleasure — my indulgence to that part of me that wants to leave clues. That part of me that wants to see just how sloppy I can get while those numb nuts inside the office go on, oblivious to my dastardly existence.
Today I’m on my way to work at the office, passing the idiots in their silly blue uniforms. They think their world is so much safer because they put away “Bad Guys.” I’m not one of their “Bad Guys” but I am a bad to the bone, downright nasty individual.
The last drops drain from my Pepsi and look up and down the street for a recycling bin. There appears to be one at the bus stop a street down, so I hold onto my can, turned up my Mp3 player, and sink into the moaning of Bach’s most famous piece of organ music — My anthem. I let the lower beats set my step and the higher beats set my swagger.
I reach the two refuse bins standing side by side and drop my can into the recycle, then stop. This is not the deed of an evil doer.
Evil doers do not recycle.
I lean over the recycle bin and looked down through the hole on the top. My can is still in plain view. I reached in, grab it, then toss it into the trash can.
To stifle a maniacal laugh, I turn back to my walk down the street and grin to myself.
I found this piece among some old, unfinished pieces from way back in 2009. I changed some things around, but in structure and spirit it is the same.
I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Perhaps I’ve changed so much in the last 6 years that I don’t feel like the original author and thought he should be credited.