Once, when I was in 2nd grade, a boy stole my pen. It was a really cool pen that was probably from ancient Rome because it was made of metal and I found it in my dad's day-planner that he didn't use that much. I loved it and it was the only thing I consistently found in the horror of my desk.
One day it was gone. Just POOF. I looked through all my assignments and even ended up with a clean desk to no avail. In despair I began to do my assignment when I looked over and saw Brett Hoffer with the same exact pen and a smug look. I knew I had to do something. I took it to the authorities, but Brett just passed the pen in question off as his own.
That fateful day was my first brush with vigilante justice.
I knew God said not to steal, but what about steal back? That pen was mine (or at least my family's) and I would again feel its cold, smooth presence refresh my senses, inspire my work, and run through my fingers. Just you wait, little pen, I thought, I will take matters into my own hands.
In the dark of recess, I snuck in to "go to the bathroom" and with the Mission Impossible theme song going through my head and sweaty palms going in and out of my pockets, I peaked my head inside the eerie, lifeless room. There was nothing in my way. There it was, like a beacon on Brett's desk. I walked swiftly but quietly all the while looking nonchalant just so I could make sure that if Mrs. Larsen quick turned on the lights, I would have my excuse.
Before too long I had again the pen in my possession. I put it reverently into my pencil box before skipping out triumphantly back to recess. I would using it sparingly from now on, but my triumph would forever be heightened when I would see Brett's face or hear his silence about the pen's absence.
I tell this story because I have, even now, had something stolen from me. But this time I will never be able to get it back.
I've never seen the television show "New Girl." Maybe I should because the main character shares my name, but I don't really watch T.V. Last night, however, after the millionth and a half close acquaintance or distant friend quoted the theme song at me, I decided to watch it.
Yesterday was my birthday and by some trick of the gods the closest episode available was about Jess's birthday and her awesome friends throwing a party. "That's cool," I thought.
The more I watched, the less I was inclined to think that it was a work of art, but the more I realized it was a diabolical circus act with layers like a crepe-cake -- slidey and deceiving. "This," I thought "is crime passed off for entertainment." The list below is of things the show "New Girl" stole from me:
- My name (duh)
- My hair. Long brown hair with awesome bangs, anyone?
- My birthday... weird.
- My back-story: once upon a time, Jess catches her boyfriend cheating and goes crazy, gets depression and has to start all over again.
- My job. At the end of the episode, a class full of 8th graders scream "Happy Birthday Ms. Day!" 8th grade English. She teaches 8th grade English.
But wait, here's where it gets crazy:
*I only just found out I need glasses*
What kind of bizarre premonition is this? Not only is it telling my life story, it's predicting my life. I'm not okay with this. How do I even try to steal that back? Not only does everyone who watches any sort of Fox television know who I am, but they know more about my life than I do! So, if anyone sees her, please conduct a citizen's arrest and kindly inform Miss Jess Day that she is under arrest for imposter and owes me all that money she's made off of my life.
Also, ask her how it ends...
