Morning Pages 6/29/23

The Hat Burglar

John sits outside in his 2012 Ford Taurus. It used to be red but 11 years of surrendering to the elements has degraded it into more of a rusty brown. One of the tires is a spare and on the back windshield is a sticker of Punisher Logo done up to look like one of those Thin Blue Line police badges. What a tasty bit of irony.

John, a man of 37 (years old, idk just in case that wasn’t clear), is taking a break from browsing Reddit alone in the bedroom of his mom’s house. When faced with the options of showering and looking for a job or putting on random clothes from an unwashed pile of his basement bedroom and leaving the house, John peeled his stained pot leaf printed tee off the floor.

It’s midday (which I think means noon) and John has been staring at some packages just locked up beyond the front doors of an old apartment building across the street. A friend of his suggested that he start stealing packages and listing them on OfferUp for some cash. Apartment buildings are an easy target because so many packages are delivered at one time. John spies a couple walking toward the locked apartment entrance. He strokes his wispy pencil thin mustache and prepares to tailgate the couple through the front door.

Waiting for them to get just past his truck (or car, I forget what I said he drove) he steps out onto the street. Eager to get his virgin incel hands on someone else’s long awaited package. Maybe a cool hat that someone has been expecting for months. John focuses all of his attention on that couple as his foot takes its first stride into the street. Unaware of the public transit bus that just turned the corner.

A horn honks.

A couple screams.

A passenger on the bus is going to be late for work.

No longer recognizable as John, the would be hat burglar remains in the road (and mostly under the bus). The couple frantically call 9–1–1.

Inside the apartment, during the commotion, a faint voice can be heard over static coming from a small package labeled “Hats, Etc” laying near the mailboxes.

“Confirmed. We got another one. Target is nullified,” the emotionless monotone voice sates. “Prepare for extraction.”

A large man with a face obscured by large sunglasses and a UPS baseball cap enters the apartment from the back door, picks up the talking package and nestles it under his arm.

A bright light flashes and they’re gone.