An Open Letter to the Person who Broke Into My Car
Is it okay if I call you that, thief? I know the term is a little generous, considering that you skipped over the big ticket items in my car (namely the cd player), and opted for a portfolio, UMSL student planner, and a copy of Dave Egger's What is the What, (making you more of a punk or a hoodlum) but you did steal something, so I'm still going to use it. Sure, you may be a novice when it comes to sifting through the contents of my car, but you're also painfully unoriginal. Instead of using your doubtlessly catlike stealth and MacGyver-esque abilities to pick the lock, you utilized the strategy associated with most homeless people and broke my window. Now, I know that you couldn't possibly have known that I had another window repaired on my car just two months ago, or that the first time I went apartment-hunting in the city, someone broke into my car on Washington Ave. and tried to make off with my cds, but would it kill you to exercise a unique approach when it comes to burglarizing my vehicle?
However, despite my anger, I understand.
I understand that maybe this was a crime of passion. Perhaps you saw my black leather portfolio and fell in love with it's versatility and accent stitching. Perhaps you thought of a pair of shoes that you have at home, and imagined how polished and scholarly you would look carrying that portfolio while wearing said shoes. Perhaps you've just always wanted a ladies portfolio because you're gay. Are you gay, thief? I think you are.
I also understand that you were probably pressed for time, hurrying to an important appointment or scheduled engagement; surely a man of your talents had somewhere to be, and would not be roaming the streets searching for kittens to torture or old ladies to beat up. Or maybe you had the opposite dilemma and, finding that most coffee shops were closed for the evening, thought that the extra time on your hands would be best spent breaking into my car.
Regardless of your reasoning, I am still pissed that you took my book. I know that I was only 100 pages in, and that I lazily underlined instead of highlighting, but I was really enjoying What is the What. The novel received rave reviews from friends, and is even a New York Times Bestseller. I'm sure that you know this, being the literate gentleman I know you are, but I don't see why you couldn't just buy a copy. Perhaps you could try Borders, which offers a Rewards card, or Barnes and Noble, which carries Starbucks coffee instead of Seattle's Best. And don't worry thief, if you find that you don't have the $15 for a paperback, you can always just steal it.