My son and I stole a car last week. It was not the first.
We stole a Juke once, and a Fit just like me mum’s.
I think I like the trucks the best. With a truck you can steal more things—swing by a lawn shop and grab sacks of dirt, or the round glass balls that old men put in yards to keep the kids at bay. I have a fence in Cairns.
Nick said no, at first.
“We won’t get caught,” I said.
“I’ll get you to school on time,” I said, and meant it. And he has not been late, not once.
At first, he kept watch while I did the work: the lock pick with the fob-thing that I got from a guy in Perth. It does the trick. And Nick is quick, and in a bit, I think that I can quit my job.
I feel like I should explain myself.
This morning I was feeling tired and uninspired. I started writing a little piece to capture the Australian vernacular. But, the further I got into it, the more I hated it. So I decided to write a little poem instead. But something about the poem reminded me of a story I wrote for a writing workshop I did a couple of summers ago.
The original prompt was to write a story using only one syllable words. The original story was 260 words, but I pared it down for Pegman and tried to give it a more ‘local’ flavor to suit the location. It was fun and challenging to write but maybe not so fun to read. Sort of like the adventures of Dr. Suess’s criminal aunt Sheila.