🔺 TAP 🔺

My buddy and I made a decision that we would later regret, especially me. It was one hot day in August, and we were about to pull off the heist of the century- at least, that’s how it felt. I’m guessing we were around twelve, maybe thirteen, young criminals in the making. At the time, I lived on the far east side of Abilene on Seventh Street, and Mike, my buddy, lived a couple of blocks away on Fifth Street. I don't remember where we were coming from, but I do remember we were on our way home on a blistering summer afternoon. Cutting across Buckeye, one of Abilene’s two main drags, we found ourselves in the Bogaart's grocery store parking lot when something caught our eye! It was sitting against the outer wall of the store on the right side, next to an alley. It was a stack of wooden soda cartons filled with glass Pepsi bottles; back then, there were no plastic soda bottles. If memory serves me right, my partner-in-crime suggested we swipe a couple of bottles. This is paraphrased, but he said, “Come on, man, it’ll be easy. All we have to do is grab a bottle and head down the alley. It’s a piece of cake!” It was peer pressure, plain and simple. I couldn't appear yellow and chicken out! So we went for it; unfortunately, or fortunately, however you want to look at it, there was a grocery store clerk we didn't see in the parking lot.

The following hooligan events happened exactly as I remember them. So grab an umbrella and try to keep dry as you go with me on my dramatic adventure of yesteryear. Nothing has been watered down, except perhaps my dignity.

My buddy was the first to snatch a bottle, then me. As planned, we tore off as fast as we could down the alley. Maybe twenty yards along, I heard a gruff masculine voice holler, “HEY!” While running, I looked over my right shoulder and saw a man in a knee high white apron in hot pursuit, sprinting towards me; it was the grocery store clerk! Terror and panic immediately set in, igniting thoughts a million miles a second. What’s going to happen to me? Will they call the cops? Will they put me in jail? What are my parents going to say, think, and do? Am I going to burn in hell?

Adrenaline flooded my body! Suddenly, I was jolted by the clerk’s hand grabbing me by my collar. Instantly, a cruel primal reflex spewed into action. That's right, I peed my pants! It was not your normal everyday pee! It was with a tremendous force, like the pressure of an out-of-control fire hose! It was the mother of all gushers! My jeans were soaked past my knees! I bellowed out to my buddy, “We're caught!” He slowed his pace to a stop and gave himself up. I know that was kind of a dirty, filthy weasel thing to do to my partner in crime, but I guess in the spur of the moment, I decided I didn't want to face the music alone. The clerk had us both by our collars in front of him, pushing us along through the Bogaart’s sliding doors. It was a walk of unbearable embarrassment and humiliation, people gawking and pointing at us as we were paraded down the grocery store aisle to the office. With my pee-soaked pants, I tried to hide my face as much as possible by looking down, without much success. The store manager took our names and called our parents. Our parents expressed their disappointment in us and apologized to the Bogaarts’ manager. Mom and Dad took me home, grounded me, gave me a long lecture, and, of course, threw my pants in the washer. I was never so embarrassed and ashamed in my entire life. I kept myself out of sight and mostly hung out in my bedroom. It would be a long time before I could once again look them in the eye. That was the end of my soggy career as a thief. ❦

Lesson learned: Crime doesn't pay, but it sure can spray.