Remember that game Stop Thief? It was awesome.

by Nic Olson

Thievery. Thieving. Theft.

Nine days ago Sir Ray talked about stealing. He told a few anecdotes of India. We all laughed.
An hour before nine days ago, I stole time from a Saskatoon tennis star.
A day after nine days ago, a kid came into my store. He left with a hat. We were left without a payment.
Four days after nine days ago, three days after a day after nine days ago, five days ago, Royal Bank called. Unusual activity, online banking. Money transferred, but not quite stolen.

Stealing is a funny thing. No it’s not? Well, it is. You get stolen from every day, without knowing it. It is when you do know that you’ve been stolen from that you think it isn’t funny. But it still is. Taxes, gas prices, banks, service charges, Indian taxi drivers, capitalists stealing your soul; you don’t think about it, but they are sucking out your savings for your dream beach vacation at (insert Spanish name here that ends in an O).

When things appear to me more than once in a week, I take it as a sign. Lately I have been seeing lots of Mizo looking Indian women, it must be a sign that I need to go back. And/or marry one of them. I have seen lots to do with stealing, it must mean that I should stop stealing what I am stealing. Or start stealing what I am not stealing. I’ll work that out and let you know how it goes…

Nine days after nine days ago, I stole your hearts. Grand theft love.