Alvin The Kleptomaniac

Weston Sharpensteen

PART ONE

To us, it’s stealing. Someone taking what is rightfully ours. For Alvin Denver, it’s a way of life. I’ve known Alvin since we were young. We met on the playground in Grade 2. He asked if he could have some of my gum and proceeded to take the entire pack. To Alvin, every day is a shopping spree, and every person is a mall. This is the tip of his iceberg: Alvin has a private and prized collection of things that he has stolen. Laundry he fished from the local college’s laundromat. Jars of rare and collectable jams that belonged to Dr. Burton. My girlfriend. All stolen by Alvin. I’d say that Alvin has a problem, but it’s his way of life. Don’t bother questioning his actions, he’ll steal your thoughts and toss them in a metaphoric trash can, that he’s also stolen. Being a kleptomaniac is Alvin’s way of life. He’s in his own little, demented world, and I tolerate it. Now excuse me, but Alvin is about to steal my pencil.

PART TWO

You can't teach a sociopathic dog new tricks.

It has been six months since I have last seen Alvin. He was gone, until today. It turns out that after an incident involving stealing a chicken from Farmer Brown, the police were informed of Alvin's shenanigans. Alvin fought the law, and the law won. After an intense shootout with nuclear weapons he had stolen from the government, Alvin was finally put behind bars. He got taken out today with a restraining order from every farmer and KFC in town. It looks as if Alvin's stealing days are over. He even baked me a pie to celebrate! As I took a bite of the cherry pastry, I felt something sharp and excruciatingly painful.  A small (and now blood-coated) razor was in the pie.