The Thief I Caught

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They found the body today. It was right where I’d left it. I never really intended to kill this person, although that is what happened in the end.  The body was badly decomposed, and the varmints had fed on it quite a bit.  To be gravely honest,  I thought they would have discovered her sooner, being where I’d dumped her.  I had thought that someone would have stumbled across her remains days after I put her out there, not two whole months.  It was one of those streets on the poor side of town, where the city had condemned and leveled all the houses.  Now the only activity was the gaggle of bums that gathered under the tree to drink and fight.  I believe that it was the cold season that kept people from frequenting that area that time of the year,  at least until the weather warmed up some.  But at the time I was getting rid of her body, I didn’t even think of that.  Ever since then,  I’ve been holding a tight ass.  Dumping my mistake in that desolate hollow and expecting to hear in the news everyday,  that a homicide investigation was ongoing,  further details at ten…..  Not to mention the nightmares of going back to the remodel and having her ghostly body lead the police straight to me, pointing at me with her mummified finger and saying ” HHEE KILLLED MEEE!” in an eerie creepy voice.  I snap awake, dripping in cold sweats,  in the middle of the night. But that dream pales in comparison, to the nightmare of being in prison, constantly fighting off hordes of horny tattooed weightlifting bull queers.  All of them vying for ownership of my wrinkled hairy virgin ass.

Someone had been breaking in at my construction site ever since we started the remodel.  I don’t know why I was angered by this, I didn’t lose any tools, or equipment in the thefts.  The customer and the bank that financed this little venture was losing money to these thieves and It didn’t seem to bother them.  It was just the aggravation on seeing all of your hard work and sweat being cast aside, so that they could steal the copper, brass. and wiring to get drugs or alcohol with somebody else’s  labor.  I didn’t intend for anyone to die, I just wanted to extract a little misery from their worthless hides.  Seeing the busted sheet rock, and the shining new copper pipes ripped from the wall,  the next morning, just really got to me.  Then losing a day for the cops to come out and take a report,  which they were going to do nothing about.  Calling back the subcontractors for another bid, and hiring that worthless security company, to come sit on their asses and watch the maggots come back and steal some more,  really chapped my ass.  That’s when I decided to rig up a 240 volt surprise for my late night visitors.  The site was running off a service pole, until the wiring was completed and approved by the County Electrical Inspector.  I took some service wire ( that I’ve used to run from the utility pole to the meter)  and rigged up a hot-shot to the pipes.  So that when those thieving fuckers went to grab the pipes, they would complete the circuit.  And ride the lightning till the breaker tripped.  It shouldn’t kill them, but it would teach them to keep their grubby hands off and maybe straightening out their hair, just a wee little bit.

When I got out to the remodel this morning,  I could see that they had broken yet another window to get in the house.  I figured they had sprung my little mouse trap overnight, and went out the back door, just like they have in to past after their nocturnal visits.  I got out of my truck, and went over to inspect the damage,  as I feared they’d busted out a pane to access the window latch.  I thought to myself that they might believe that they were saving their victims money by limiting the damage when they broke in,  a thrift-minded burglar.  It was always quicker to replace the entire frame than to fiddle with that one insulated window pane.  I went on in to see what had been stolen.  The old house greeted me with a shitty smell, once I opened the front door. I pinched my nostrils closed and thought the sons of bitches done shit on the god damn floor!  Jesus H. fucking Christ!  The smell was so strong, that I had to step back outside.  I cursed some more, thinking that I’d have to call the cops yet again,  and I gathered myself and went back in.

As I made my way though the shitty odor, and into the partially finished kitchen I saw a sight that froze me in my tracks.  There was a mummified corpse,  in an old Army field jacket and blue jeans, lying on the floor, with one hand still clinging to the pipes I had electrified.  Whoever it was, is most assuredly dead.  All of this time, I had figured it was a couple of guys that were stealing the copper.  But the mummy-like body was that of a woman.  She had long blonde hair and big drooping tits.  I stood there flabbergasted, not believing what I was seeing.  I had a cold fright within me, not really knowing what to do next.  I knew if I called the cops, they would take me to jail for manslaughter.  That much was plainly obvious to me, just for trying to stop these folks from fucking over my work.  I just wanted to put the fear of God into to these thieving sons a bitches,  not kill them.  I had figured the 5 amp breaker would have tripped and just delivered the memorable lesson of leaving other folks shit alone.  But the old breaker had been in my tool box for a number of years.  And it was probably nearly as old as me when I took it out of the old breaker box.  With so much rust in it,  that it froze in place instead of tripping when the amp-age came through it. A very bad turn for me, and much worst for this woman.  From the looks of the woman, I’d guess she was in her mid to late forties,  the smell in the house,  came from the release of her bowels while she was being electrocuted. Poor tortured soul, probably just trying to scrape up some money.  And instead of making some quick change, she had traded her life in her moment of weakness. My God, what the hell was I thinking!  Yesterday, I’d pictured myself chuckling over this moment,  a would-be-thief’s late night lesson.  Not standing here trying to figure a way out of this dumb ass situation that I’ve got myself into.  It was 7:05 A.M.,  just barely daylight.  I made the decision that when this mummified woman was found, she was not going to be found here.

I am truly sorry for being the cause of her death,  but  I’ve seen what the courts do to those who attempt to seek their own justice.  It is never just.  I thought of the pharmacist that I saw on the news, that shot the unarmed kid, as they tried to rob his store.  They served him up a big steaming bowl of justice,  for protecting himself.  The whole community was out to get him.  That pill pusher would have been better off if he was the robber. They gave him a life sentence at 59 years old, the same age as me.  At my age,  even twenty years was as good as getting the death penalty.  All my uncles died in their late to mid-sixties,  My Dad died at 71.

I went back toward the living room and got the old painter’s canvas and stretch it out next to her.  It occurred to me that those pipes might still be charged,  so I went outside and disconnected my hot-shot,  I rolled it up and put it in my truck.  The traffic was just starting to move about in the neighborhood,  so I went in and unlocked the garage door.  I came back to my truck, and backed it into the garage, pulling the old wooden door closed for privacy.   It was fairly easy to load the shitty whore onto the tarp, I dragged her stiffening body into the bed of my Ford. I rummaged through the cleaning supplies and quickly made a concoction to neutralize the odor.  I poured it liberally over the tile flooring.  As I made my way to the garage,  I’d already thought of a spot to dispose of the corpse.  If my luck held out, I could take the body over there and just pray that I don’t get stopped by a diligent cop on the way.  Or even worse,  if they thought I was dumping trash, and come over in the middle of this dastardly deed to write me a summons.  What could I say?  “Just dumping a little white trash officer!”  I went and took care of the dumping task without further incident,  but I stayed in a constant state of dread.  Every cop that I passed from that day on,  I expected him to turn around and pull me over and arrest me for killing that woman.

Why couldn’t I have just made another report, and fixed whatever they’d torn up in the burglary?  I mean other than time,  I hadn’t lost a single thing.  Was it for the satisfaction of putting one over on the thieves?  Three minutes of my dumbass ingenuity, had robbed me of a quiet worry-free life.  Now, I have to worry about if I was willing to perform homosexual favors on my three hundred fifty pound cellmate or will I just take a beating and let him rape me?  And I hope that he doesn’t decide to sell me around the prison, and I have to get fucked in ass by any convict with a cigarette. Being everyone’s bitch,  until I hang myself with some bed sheets. No,  I think that if I do get caught, I’ll commit suicide long before I get to that point.

We finished that house,  and started rehabbing another,  they broke in and stole from that one too.  But I didn’t set any more rat traps. For one thing,  I don’t have the heart,  and I don’t want to think about spending my last remaining years,  swishing around the penitentiary with Kool-aid on my lips, looking for a penis to suck….


3 thoughts on “The Thief I Caught

  1. Pingback: The Thief I Caught | Through the Looking Glass

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