When I was 13, my friend Harry and I conspired to pilfer a pack of Marlboros from the Kingsley Ave Jiffy Store. We were tired of stealing the Kools and Virginia Slims Menthols from our mothers (menthol sends 13 year old heads a' spinning), and saw the vulnerabilities of the store's center check out counter. My job was to distract the clerk on one side whilst Harry grabbed the smokes behind her. I put a Dolly Madison lemon pie in my pants and a very loud, crinkly bag of Doritos under my shirt. Of course the clerk was on to me immediately and chased me out the door. In my panic I forgot the plan to ditch the purloined goods and escape on my bike, instead running past the bike and around the corner of the store.

 

The clerk laughed, called out "If you want your bike back you'll bring that stuff back."  I saw Harry across the street, shaking his head and laughing at me as he lit up. When i re-entered the store the clerk had my bicycle in the walk in freezer and was calling the police. Twice I pushed in the plunger to end the call while pleading my case. This did not help my cause. An Orange Park cop took me (and my bike) to the station house and notified my dad.

 

Back home I got the parental lecture, added a little more wear to the crease in the middle of Dad's belt and received a sentence of one month's grounding. I never ratted out Harry and was forced to take a $1 bill to Mr. Huntley, who co-owned the Jiffy Food Store chain and lived at the end of our street. This was reparation for the 4 Snickers bars I admitted to stealing from Jiffy Stores during my brief criminal career. I visited the Huntley's but was greeted outside by their son, 1 year my senior and a frequent partner in our Jiffy Store raids. He told me his dad wasn't home but he would deliver the $1 and my apology when he got home.

 

I doubt the dollar or apology ever reached Mr. Huntley, but my dad never followed up and I've never stolen anything again.

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