Crime Doesn't Pay

We live in the best little neighborhood. There are 9 houses on our little street with a cul-de-sac. We are all pretty friendly and we get together on occasion for pot luck suppers and cookouts in the summer. We watch each other's house when we are away and feed each other's dogs. We take food when someone is sick and I even keep popsicles in my fridge in the garage for the neighborhood kids. They just come by when I'm outside and ask for one. We are all so very different, though. Some have kids at home, some don't have kids at all, and some, like us, have grown kids. There are a couple nurses, two engineers, a military recruiter of some kind, a business woman, a city employee, a home inspector, a househusband, and then there's the infamous plumber and his wonderful school teacher wife. (Better known as Bonnie ad Clyde)



Well, today I broke proper neighborhood etiquette. I stole a Papa John's cup from a neighborhood yard. I really tried to justify the crime by reminding hubby that the house was a vacant house and not technically in our neighborhood. I still feel bad, sort of. But he is an accessory to the crime. He drove the getaway car. I made him ride around the neighborhood on our way to eat with Miss Priss until I found one I could easily get. They were all over the place. Apparently they had only been delivered a short time ago. I found the perfect stop for my deed. Hubby stopped the get-away-car/truck and I jumped out and retrieved the object. Thief!!!!

Then came the worst part of the whole incident. Miss Priss asks me, "Gamma, what's in that bag?" My response? "Trash". LIAR!!! I had just lied to my precious granddaughter. What kind of role model have I become? I don't lie to other people, why would I lie to the most precious little girl in the world? Do I want her to grow up in a world where we steal stuff and then lie about it? Do I want to be the one responsible when she can't trust anyone because they lie? How horrible I have become. So after giving it some serious thought and realizing I did not want to introduce my precious baby to a world of crime, I then changed my response to, "Oh this? It's a cup," and immediately changed the subject.

Crime does not pay. After the big heist, things were down hill from then on. Our evening meal sucked. Miss Priss was a terror (probably because her gamma is a thief or because she is a two year old who hadn't had a nap and was hungry because no one had cared to feed her since breakfast). Dear God, I hope Liz doesn't read this. We'll never see her again. She will probably put her in the witness protection program and move her to Siberia or someplace. Anyway, after dinner, Clyde and I decided we had to stop at Walmart to pick up a gift for a birthday party I was taking Miss Priss to. Let me just say that Walmart will never be the same. Miss Priss was certain that a one year old boy needed a bicycle and bracelets for his birthday. I thought I'd never convince her to get the little truck. Clyde finally distracted her with a new toy of her own (that she desperately needed) while I picked out the present. Miss Priss was adamant that she ride in the back of the buggy with my eggs, bread, and other grocery items. Not a good idea. For the eggs anyway. The ride home was no picnic either.. Miss Priss would usually have fallen asleep by this time but with new toy in hand and broken egg gunk on her foot, she was not a happy camper.

So you see???? Crime does not pay. Karma. That's what is. I promise to never steal another Papa John's cup and I promise to eat there sometime in the near future and I promise never to lie to Miss Priss again. I Love You, Papa John's......