To all those who stroll past anything shiny, hard to reach, or unusually colorful and think, “This should be mine,” we welcome you to our new series, Chronicles of a Klepto. Enjoy it, ya filthy animals. It was senior year, a year marked by condoning the fulfillment of selfish, arbitrary desires. It’s basically like Christmas on steroids on a day to day basis. My besties and I were getting together for pizza (automatic extra cheese because we’re seniors… that’s not a thing but it should be). Towards the end of our group dinner, we began heavily reminiscing on freshman year when we met each other in the dorm. I became best friends with my roommate, and we became best friends with the two rooms across the hall. It was magical. Thick into reminiscing, we decide to go visit the building, after all, it was sentenced to be torn down our graduation summer. We had to go pay tribute to the room that had water ooze out of one of the tiles by the door, to the smelly dryers, and ghetto cafeteria. Arriving on the scene, we sighed and cried over fond memories (don’t question the hormones of senior year.) We met the girls who lived in our old rooms and took a group picture. Blubbering into the laundry room, my freshmen year roommate points to a crooked, dusty Honor Code sign and decides to take it. WOAH. Woah there. That changed my total outlook on the game – taking shit. And obviously, I had to take something bigger and better because I have weird competitive problems. No I didn’t play lacrosse but I probably should’ve [insert mean girls quote]. So we’re running out of places to visit, and I’m getting nervous. Can I take that? What about that? We enter the cafeteria, a treasure trove full of stealable possibilities. Mid-saunter down the hall, as my friends dispersed to dramatically say farewell to familiar objects, I zero in on my target. The giant coffee cup. I spent countless all-nighters studying in the cafeteria, and when my eyes would burn and exhaustion would nauseate my stomach, I’d look up from my books and boom there was the 5×5 giantass picture of a coffee cup. There were 5 of them, all varying in colors. Somehow it always looked like Hispanic coffee to me. Giant-ass Spanish coffee cup, you’re mine. I stand in front of the massive painting, and declare to my group it was mine for the taking. We guffawed at the thought of me actually taking the massive painting, and what people will think when they see it’s gone missing. How crazy, to run through the dorm with the giant painting. Who would do such a risky, stupid thing? Once my friends realized I was serious, they began to panic. One strongly believed the few students studying the mostly deserted cafeteria would tattle. Ruffling my challengey-side, I throw my shoulders back and march over to the students. “Hey, what’s up?” (I’m so sly) “Listen, I’m going to steal that painting over there. Are you going to tell on me?” I was asking for their deepest code of confidence. A bored, glazed, “yea that’s fine” is what 3 of the 3 students said. I was golden. Being the natural born leader that I am, I immediately mobilized my friends around the perimeter to scout for trouble. I threw the keys at the friend who I knew would most likely betray me in scouting out of sheer anxiety (#Judas) and told her to round up my car for my quick get away. Via rapid-fire texting, I confirm that the coast was clear. Upon confirmation, I rip the painting off the wall with surprising ease. It was almost my full arm-span, and extended past my head all the way down to below my knees. Laughing hysterically and maybe maybe peeing my pants a little, I ran down the hall, rounded a corner, and ran down the next corridor. The light at the end of the tunnel. I burst through the double doors and get a visual of my get away car. I had around 50 feet to run, and this was my most vulnerable point in the mission. It was
broad daylight in front of one of the school’s cafeteria, and now that I think about it, there were most definitely cameras too. I make it to my car as my friend is opening the trunk door for me. Running full speed with the painting now stretched in front of me, I attempt to shove the painting into my car. It was an attempt because evidently my trunk is 4 ft and 11 inches and didn’t receive my 5 ft painting. Instead, my stomach received the 5ft painting as the momentum of my body collided into the painting. Knocking the wind out of my stomach with a coffee cup painting, I preserved nonetheless, turned the sucker diagonally, and hauled ass out of there. For the next 3 days, I jumped every time someone knocked on the door. FBI! Thankfully, I remained undetected on the radar and now champion the painting in my living room.