A Funny yet Sad Story

Remember these guys?  Well . . . I felt the need to send a letter to the editor.  Here it is.

Dear Mr. Editor,

I was a victim of a Devil’s Night prank and theft and I am writing you in hopes that your readers including Adrian residents, police officers and judges will weigh in on how the offense should be handled.  What I am hoping for is public and official support for “unique justice.” 

Okay here’s my story . . .  I’ve even given it a title . . .

“Devil’s Night Revelers Having a Ball cause Heads to Roll”

About eight years ago on a bright October day my friend, and fellow artist, left a fun gift on my porch a pair of painted bowling balls.  (I know you can see where this is going.)  They were pumpkin orange colored with faces painted on them in a 1930’s kind of graphic style.  One smiled the other frowned. 

The smiling one was stolen.  He was recklessly rolled down Locust Street all the way to Stevenson Lumber.  How do I know?  Well the “little devil” (I think of him more as a “Punk-in stealer”) went to work on Halloween bragging about his daring and exciting Devil’s Night adventure.  He had gone out to smash little children’s pumpkins and found a bowling ball.  Oh, the luck.  Strikes and gutters never felt so good. 

I love how things work out, you see “Punk-in Stealer” ran his mouth not knowing I was related to one of his fellow employees.

November first, I went to the Punk-in Stealer’s work to confront him, but he had the day off.  This was good because I was in a reactionary frame of mind and needed time to reason a suitable form of justice.

I examined my feelings:

This guy not only stole my property, but my joy.  My friend painted those bowling balls for ME.  Every time I put them out my heart overflows with gratitude for my friend and all my friends.  Thank you Lord for my friends!

My friends mean more than that bowling ball.  I am sad, but I’m not like Castaway Tom Hanks distraught over losing Wilson.

I’m more mad because he damaged some little kids’ pumpkins.  Did you catch that I live on the east side?  Folks over here don’t have as many financial resources.  Yet what little they have is taken and ruined.  FYI: I‘m unemployed and looking for work which is like digging through a two week old wet stinky trash bag for something I lost and desperately need.  

Ideas . . .

Mr. Punk should be fired.

Mr. Punk should be made to paint me two new pumpkin faced bowling balls.  One will replace my lost pumpkin ball, the other fruit of his labor will endure my punishment.  I will call my friends and we will exact justice on it (while he watches) like the printer in the movie Office Space. 

I will fight him while he is tied to a chair, like in the comedy Eagle vs Shark.

We send him to bowling ball painting purgatory.  Where he has to paint a bowling ball then roll it up a hill.  He will be like The Little Punk Who Could, he will huff and puff “I think I can, I think I can” the ball will roll over the side to the good boys and girls who will exclaim “the Great Pumpkin is Real.”  When Mr. Punk-in gets to the bottom of the hill, another unpainted ball will await him.  We will call him Herby, because he will be like the North Pole Elf who never found joy in his work.

These are pretty good ideas but I would like to know what you and your readers think should be done.

Awaiting your wisdom,

Heidi

After I sent the letter I had a thought . . . the vandal should paint bowling balls then he should hold a street bowling marathon to raise money for the boys and girls club art program.  He has to throw the ball one time for every donor.  For every strike he gets he can throw the ball one less time.  Donors will pay extra for every strike thrown.  Every time he misses I get to insult him and lay a guilt trip on him.  I will make him do it in snow shoes.  And calmly ask him about his pain level like the sadistic torturer in A Princess Bride.

I will give him water flavored with red hots.  And I will smile and ask "Whose smiling now?"
Does it hurt yet?  On a level a 1 - 10 how is your arm feeling now?
So how sorry do you feel about stealing my bowling ball now? 

I want to bust his . . .

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