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An Internal Monologue: a confession

August 8, 2018 By Kristen Blalock

An Internal Monologue: a confession

Me: Let’s talk about how it all started.

Myself: How what started?

And I: Ha! The pickpocketing.

Me: Yes, can we talk through that?

Myself: Yeah, that’s fine I guess. I don’t get how it’s all that fascinating, or worth its own essay, but we can.

And I: It’s cause you were poor, just admit it.

Me: We were poor?

Myself: No, no. Come on. We were working class. Well, our dad was working class. He was working non-stop. He supported all three of us. And our mom. And Shannon.

And I: Yeah, but by then Shannon was supporting herself. I mean, she started off in that shithole BBQ place off US1, and before you know it she’s selling medical malpractice insurance.

Me: This isn’t about her, but nice try. So you’re a pickpocketer?

Myself: I WAS. I did for a while.

And I: Like FOUR YEARS a while. You down play all the shit you’ve done.

Me: How did you learn?

Myself: Ha, easy. Stealing my highschool sweetheart’s pager and cell phone to check up on him.

And I: Why do they call it that, “highschool sweetheart”?

Me: Why do the call it masochism?

MySelf: Touche.

And I: It started off with stealing his shit, and before you knew it I was stealing $50 to $100 bucks from guys in clubs and bars.

Me: Only from guys?

Myself: Yeah. I would never steal from another woman. Plus, my targets were men that had already targeted me.

And I: You know the type. They walk by with that Pi Kappa Phi swagger, and next thing you know you’re assaulted and they’re cocking a shit eating grin.

Me: I know him. We All know them.

Myself: Yeah, so uhh, there I was being publicly molested with the rest of the female population at any given club or bar and I just figured, “Well, if you think it’s cool to grab me, then I think it’s cool to rob you.” Next thing I know four years passed and I was so good I could slip all the contents of a wallet into my back pocket, all the while the owner was asking for my number and had no clue.

And I: It’s a diversion, a smoke screen, a scam.

Me: It worked?

Myself: Every time.

And I: Never been caught.

Me: What made you stop?

Myself: Haha. The United States government.

And I: Yeah, they gave me a Top Secret Security Clearance, so I figured I should clean up my act.

Filed Under: Words From The Other Side Tagged With: confession, Kristen Blalock, monologue, nonfiction, pickpocket, pickpocketing, Writing

About Kristen Blalock

Kristen Blalock is a writer, filmmaker, founder of Central Florida Women Behind the Lens, and eternal Slavophile.

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