31 days of stories - day 2

Day 2: The Shoplifting Story.

 

When I was a girl, there was a store in my teeny tiny town called Mocks.

 

I don't remember much about it except the wood floors and the candy aisle.

And the musty smell.

And the magazine rack by the door.

 

I have no idea what was in the back of the store.

I am not even sure I was ever back there.

 

Starting about age 10, about once a week my mom would let me walk up there to get a dollars worth of candy.

 

Back in the olden days, you could get a boatload of candy for a dollar.

 

I had a routine.

 

I would get a candy bar, which was the big ticket item at .50.

 

I would take it up to the counter and get change.

 

Then I would get a box of lemonheads or an airhead for .15.

 

I would take that to the counter and get change.

 

Then a box of jawbreakers or boston baked beans for another .15.

 

Yep, would take it to the counter and get change.

 

Then a pack of gum for .10.

 

....and get change.

 

That would leave me with a dime.

 

That last dime was always my favorite.

 

There were rows and rows of penny candy and I would spend inordinate amounts of time deciding which pieces to choose.

 

I usually came away with grape and strawberry tootsies, a butterscotch, a bit o' honey and some sort of sucker.

 

I would walk out with my little brown paper bag as happy as a bird with a french fry.

 

One day, just like any other, I walked in with my dollar and proceeded to go through my candy buying process.

 

As I was picking out those last 10 precious pieces, I slipped one of those coconut things in my bag.  Do you know what I mean?  They look like this:

  I had always wanted to try one, but was afraid I wouldn't like it.

I was coconut, after all.

And heaven forbid, I waste a precious penny on it.

 

So what did I do?

I stole it.

 

I took my other 10 pieces up to the counter, with sweaty hands and a racing heart, sure I was going to get caught.

And probably go to jail.

 

I didn't get caught.

 

I walked home with a heavy heart.

Guilt coursing through my veins.

 

I tried the stolen candy.

And hated it.

I am not sure if I really didn't like it, or the guilt made it taste bad.

To this day, when I see them, I still feel guilty.

 

All week I fretted over that penny theft.

 

The next week, I took my dollar and went through the candy buying process.

 

When I got down to my last dime, I only picked 5 pieces and told Mr. Mock to keep the change.

I figured the least I could do was pay interest for my theft.

I remember him smiling a little, and saying thanks.

Do you think maybe he knew afterall?

Hm.

 

 I have to admit, the candy never seemed to taste quite as good as it did before.

It was just a penny.

But it was more than that too.

It was the very first time I was consciously dishonest.

It didn't sit well.

 

I have never told this story to anyone.

Until now.

 

Do you think the statute of limatations is up?