I remember this one time, I must have been about eight or nine years old, I stole a bunch of money from my best friend Mike's house. I used to walk home with him and his little brother Brinton everyday after school. Our parents had hired this cute college chick named Terry to watch us at Mike and Brinton's house until they got home. I don't remember exactly why or how, but for some reason I was in the garage all by myself, somewhere in the vicinity of the washer and dryer. The bottom panel fell off the dryer as I was on my way out. I stopped to put it back on and when I knelt down I saw a LARGE amount of gold and silver coins, just out of sight, right underneath the dryer.

I sat there for a second before reaching out and scooping up a big handful. Then I took some more. And more. And more. I remember being very afraid I would get caught, but it was also very exhilarating; completely, utterly consumed by greed, I thought I'd never have to worry about money again. I waddled out of the garage and into the house looking completely guilty, pockets bulging with linty coinage.

I was smart enough not to flash the money until I got home. I had been sitting at the dining room table for some time, arranging the coins into neat stacks, when my mom and dad walked in and sat at the other end of the table. They asked me how I happened to come by my newly acquired wealth and I told them I had been saving up the change from my lunch money. For a long time now. A long, long time.

I was full of shit. But I must have insisted convincingly enough because eventually they left me alone. I don't remember what I spent the money on.