EPTSo, Team Liquidians, I now present to you...
![[image loading]](http://991.com/NewGallery/Laurent-Garnier-Tales-Of-A-Klepto-468311.jpg)
This is actually my biography in audiobook form. True story.
Stop. Think back to when you were 8 years old. What do you remember about your personality? Odds are, you were like this kid:
![[image loading]](http://media.onsugar.com/files/2010/04/17/4/192/1922664/63646568367a08ee_94499585.jpg)
Give or take the mouthful of fries. My point is, you were most likely an exuberant little scamp. A mischievous scamp, to be sure, but too innocent and happy with life to be of much harm.
I was not like you guys. While you were all out at McDonald's or Wendy's or some shit, stuffing your face with potatoes and cows, and generally being a lovable nuisance, I had taken a darker path. Of course, I was a nuisance like all the rest, but I was certainly not lovable. For you see, I led a double life.
My alter ego was Klepto Kid.
Yes, it shames me to say it, but perhaps that's for the best. Around 8 years old, I was a rabid motherfucking thief. I stole anything I wanted to: if I liked it, I annexed the item in the name of self-interest. Snickers at the local Safeway? Mine. A penny on the kitchen counter? I'll put it to good use.
![[image loading]](http://www.truegreed.com/includes/greed.jpg)
This set of blocks was my favorite toy as a child.
Now, I come from a well-to-do family; I'm not trying to be provocative or holier-than-thou, I'm just setting the stage. When I was a child, my family and I would take near-annual vacations to the Hawaiian Islands (Maui, to be exact). I think we went there 4 times in 6 years or so. The trip we took when I was eight would be my second time in Paradise.
As with the first time we traveled to Maui, we stayed at a very opulent hotel. Looking back on this now, I might have simply been more impressionable than I am now, but this place was fucking gorgeous. I can't remember the name of the hotel right now, but I'll give you an example of what I viewed it as when I was a wee lad:
![[image loading]](http://www.planetware.com/i/photo/st-peters-basilica-vatican-city-i749.jpg)
That's right, St. Peter's Motherfucking Basilica. Chew on that for a bit.
Since everything seemed far grander to me as a kid, this already stunning work of architecture was just beautiful. It cleansed my body and soul (although the network of water slides behind the place, next to the beach, was probably more cleansing).
But I digress. You guys have been waiting for my rendition of the Italian Job, so let's cut ahead a bit.
Fast forward 2 days into the week-long vacation. At this time in my life, my mother was aware of how devious I was; she didn't know I was a filthy stealing fuck, but I was also an accomplished liar, so I suppose she figured that I'd better be supervised. So, we're walking through the hotel (which, if you forgotten, was probably where Jesus took time off from planning the Rapture), checking out all the scenery, eating at the buffet, and stuff like that.
We arrived at a big corridor in the edifice where several gift shops were stationed. Naturally, I wanted to investigate this pending mystery (my heroes at the time were the Mystery Gang from Scooby-Doo, so I pretended I was Fred all the time). My mother and I walked into the first establishment, and then I saw it.
In the gift shop. For $40.
I knew what I had to do.
I had located my target, but alas! I could not abscond with the product until the time was right! So, I tried to buy time by acting interested in the kiddie stuff in the store (the overpriced candy and squirt guns marketed at little boys)...
And then I was struck by the lightning of inspiration!
![[image loading]](http://www.choice-designs-online.com/images/2008/05/17/lightning.jpg)
I imagine it was far less Techni-color than this.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a shift schedule for the staff manning the cashiers, located near the gum stand. Quickly scanning the paper, I realized a shift change was due in an hour. Apparently, my mother noticed me just standing there and imagined I was sated by Capitalism In Action, so we left the shop.
I came back about an hour later, prepared to act. With me, I'd brought a picnic basket, trying to produce the illusion that I was on my way to the beach to have lunch with my family. The guy at the register, figuring no harm could happen by leaving me alone for five seconds, went to the back room to call in the other guy for the shift...
But this poor fellow did not know I was unlike the other rambunctious rascals at the resort. Seizing the chance to take advantage of his folly, I made my move. The picnic basket was now holding the item that had caught my eye so many minutes ago.
Now, I can imagine you readers asking of me, "What the fuck did you steal, dammit?! This suspense is clearly artificial and distracts from the plot!" Rest assured, I shan't keep you in the dark any longer. The item I stole?
A rubber piranha designed for aquatic play.
That's right, bitches, a goddamn piranha. And it was mine.
Of course, it was marketed for children like all the other merchandise in the store, so it looked something like this:
![[image loading]](http://images.all-free-download.com/images/graphicmedium/cartoon_piranha_fish_clip_art_6502.jpg)
But little impressionable me envisioned the device to be a far greater threat. Its malice was all but guaranteed in my mind's eye:
![[image loading]](http://www.fatally-yours.com/wp-content/uploads/piranha-3d.jpg)
I was so excited to have emerged victorious against Big Business that I felt obligated to take my newest possession down to the waterslide network I mentioned earlier. My target slide: The Gorge, a broad slide with water jets meant to accelerate the current and send you flying down the abyss like that one unlucky fellow in 300 who got kicked into the hole of doom.
Hands trembling with anticipation, I unpacked the piranha from its plastic-and-twist-tie prison. (I still don't know what the fuck I did with the picnic basket, though.) After what seemed an eternity, the fish was free. It was liberated from its corporate masters in the hotel. And it wanted blood.
So, I took it down the Gorge with me, to give it a taste of the freedom it had long been thirsting for. As the jets started to push me down the ride, I felt my grasp on the piranha loosen... and in a split second of clarity, I realized the one flaw with aquatic toys: They get slippery. The piranha slipped beneath the currents and bobbed out of sight.
![[image loading]](http://media.comicvine.com/uploads/2/26454/754383-shaggy_super.jpg)
I frantically swam after the wayward fishie, but in my struggle to undo my grievous error, my hand slammed against the side of the pool, drawing blood. I was spotted by a lifeguard and withdrawn from the pool to nurse my wound...
And all I could do was watch helplessly as my ferocious friend was carried further and further downstream.
Breaking away from the bikini-clad medic (Seriously, this chick might as well have been a porn star, considering how few garments she wore), I followed the piranha as it drew further and further away.
My pursuit of the fish led me to the resort's most renowned attraction. This venue is the Water Elevator, the only one of its kind in the world (as of 2004 or so). Participants sat in a circular chamber that rose to the top of the complex of waterslides, all the while doused by cascading mist. Pretty sweet stuff.
As I drew ever nearer to what was rightfully mine, a girl of about 7 years old spotted the piranha. Giggling, she snatched it and took it with her to the elevator. And, as fate would have it, this girl was the last person allowed inside.
![[image loading]](http://www.thomas-galvin.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/fuuuuuuu.png)
I never saw that piranha again, despite searching the rapids for the girl who had relinquished from me my source of joy. So I went back to the store and tried to steal some Skittles to calm myself, but since I was on tilt, I was caught and punished by my mother and the store clerk. From that day on, I vowed to myself never to steal again.
... And that's my story. I hope it was entertaining to read. Looking back over what I've typed, I feel a sense of... I dunno, relief? It feels liberating.
Oh, and by the way, that hand would I suffered got infected and I spent the rest of the vacation in the hotel room. Fuck.
