The thief

Momma came into the living room and asked where I got the Power Rangers pencil case and I didn’t say anything. I just scrunched my eyes shut tight and pretended I’d gone away. She said, “Tommy, you’re a teenager. You can’t keep stealing stuff from the kindergarten kids. If I call Mrs. Connelly and she says something went missing, you’ll be in big trouble and you’ll skip dinner.” The last part about skipping dinner floated in through my scrunched eyes and settled in my stomach and made it hurt. “I’m sorry,” I said. She sighed and pressed her hands to her curly brown hair. “I can’t trust you, Tommy. And that’s an awful thing.” When her mouth got like that it meant I should get out of her way for a while, so I went back to my room and sat on my bed. My dad left after I was born. I don’t have a picture of him in my head. Just the picture on my bookshelf next to my comics. My favorite is Wolverine. No one knows how strong he is inside. He’s got a skeleton made of adamantium. You never see it, really, just bits and parts, except one time he got in this plane crash and he burned down to his skeleton and I didn’t like that at all. He looks like a normal guy, but I like that he’s stronger than he looks, way stronger, beneath his soft skin. I’m fat. Momma says the proper term is “heavy,” but I know what it’s really called from the kids outside Mrs. Connelly’s classroom at school. They aren’t special, those kids, but I’d trade not being fat for not being special. I could smell the pot roast from the kitchen and it made my stomach hurt some more thinking about not getting any because of a tin pencil case that you can see your reflection in even if it’s wavery. Momma says she can’t trust me when it comes to stealing things. But that’s not true, at least not always. Like I know that she keeps a shoebox full of money in her closet and I’ve never stolen that. And she has this pearl necklace and a CD of Frank Sinatra and I don’t want those either. It’s just some things I have to have. Like the long, shiny shoehorn I took from Foot Locker. Or glowy green bubble gum people leave on sidewalks. We have a problem with the salt and pepper shakers from Momma’s work, and she searches me before we leave just like the cops do black people on TV. And the cook at the diner just laughs and says, “Let him take ’em,” and she says, “You have no idea what I put up with, Frank.” There was a knock at my door and she came in and sat next to me on the bed and I closed my eyes again, tight. She said, “It’s okay. I forgive you.” So I said, “Can I keep the Power Rangers pencil case?” Momma said, “No.” I opened my eyes. I said, “I thought you forgive me.” She sighed again and said, “Help me, Jesus.” So I said, “Okay. You can give back the pencil case,” because I don’t like when she brings Jesus into it. The doorbell rang, and she said, “Oh, that’ll be Janice.” Ms. P works with Momma at the diner and they go to movies sometimes and do each other’s hair and drink pink wine out of skinny glasses. I followed Momma out to the front door. Ms. P said, “Who’s that handsome fellow there?” like she always does even though she knows it was just me. Ms. P wears pretty magenta lipstick like in the sunset I drew in Mrs. Connelly’s class. I like sunsets. I didn’t say anything about not eating pot roast and Momma must’ve forgotten because I took two servings and even had grape juice. I liked the sound of Ms. P’s voice in our kitchen. We don’t have people come over to our house much. Usually, Momma goes out and leaves a TV dinner in the microwave, and the numbers are already put in so I just have to push the green button. I watched Ms. P’s magenta lips all through dinner. They crinkled and smiled. Magenta is my favorite color. After, Momma said, “Why don’t you go read your comic books?” he said No and killed them all repeatedly smiling as if the joker were inside him telling him to do it. he didn't feel bad in fact he felt good as if the joker was saying good job kid but then he got that scared feeling again but this time as if someone were watching him from behind he turned around slowly only to find his mother limp body saying oh son why would you do this I was so good to you and he said oh mother and his face turned red, redder than blood he said the joker did it the mother looked at him sadly and said oh honey that wasn't the joker it was you're crazy manipulative self he stared at her in awe as he had never heard such tremendous words before he stabbed her once again but it didn't work she simply said do it again and the next time you won't be able to do it anymore he sighed and said ok mother and he went to his room she cleaned herself up and the reason why the stabbing didn't work is that she knew he was gonna stab her so she was prepared but sadly her friend was not and so while he was pushing his penis into his wife's vagina he thought about this story he remembered the times when they spent time together up into this moment. his mother had died because he had raped and tortured and murdered her in her sleep. he pushed it into his wife harder until she was screaming he couldn't stop though not only did it feel good but he was recalling the time when he stabbed her murdered her and raped her but he didn't feel bad he felt good but at this time his wife was begging him to stop he looked down at her naked body kissed her and slit her throat. he kept on pushing it into his wife's decapitated body he simply smiled and said goodbye and shot himself in the head. Just to let you know this is not my story its someone else's I hope you enjoy it!