Monologue Of A Thief

Giovanni Velazquez
Shelby
LTWR 8A
December 5th, 2016
Thief
Man:
The night is brisk and even with the thick suede jacket pulled over the man’s shoulders he is still freezing. He should mind the frozen temperatures, but he doesn’t because he has just won a vast amount of money off a bet. Money that he can spend on luxuries that he doesn’t need but believes he deserves. He smiles to himself, walking along the cold roads. Occasionally passersby will bump into him and cautious to pickpockets, he pats the pocket that holds the thick envelope of money. Maybe he’ll stop by a restaurant along the shore to treat himself. A boy, about seventeen is walking towards him and the man eyes him wearily fully aware of what the adolescence in this part of town
Even more so when he realized that the boy had taken not only the wad of cash from the man but also his watch and his wallet. What kind of pickpocket was this? Certainly not like any of the ones he had ever seen. This was someone special.
Isaac:
I am a thief, though out of necessity. Sliding the watch and wallet from the elephant man had been easy. As well as driving my switch’s blade sharp edge into the pocket of the man’s jacket and letting the momentum of my stride tear a hole in the thick fabric. The hard part was switching the envelopes without the man who was resting his hand on the outside of the pocket noticing. The crucial part was timing and I was the fastest pickpocket in town.
Slithering around the corner, envelope held behind my back taunting the man, I grabbed the piping that snaked across the back of the building nearest to me, pulled myself up to the roof of the low building, ready to slink away, and made my way back to my house of sorts.
I followed the piping to the edge of the building’s roof and then jumped to the next roof of the building across the narrow ditch. All the buildings in town are so closely snugged together that I can jump from one roof to the other without being seen below. I’ve made this jump several times that I welcome the air on my cheeks as gravity pulls me back down to the cement roof of the next building, and the next, and the next with
The floorboards are dangerously loose and constantly creak, the water runs ice cold, and the walls of the building have a slight inward curve, cautioning me that the building can cave in and crush me at any moment but this shop is what I call home. The lights fixated on the ceiling flicker with a homely feel and the smell of old wax and shoe polish comforts me. Not to mention the artifacts that repel a certain spice.
I toss the man’s wallet and cheap starling silver watch onto the uneven table and pull out the catch of the day, counting the money enclosed. Two grand, not bad. I’d been studying the man when he made the bet on a silly card game from the outside of the bar he was in. I’d watched him win and watched one of the bouncers press the thick envelope into his hand as he walked out the bar cockily. As he smugly walked into the cold winds that waited outside I ran to the postal store down the street and bought an envelope and wrote the note placed inside. I then left the store trailing the man at a comfortable