Rob Fusion
04-17-2009, 11:28 PM
A Fire Without Blame
Rob Graziano
Dear Society;
I regret to inform you that, yes we are living, and that yes, it sometimes simply, a way of life.
What would shock most people, only slightly affected us. It was a common occurrence, we had heard everything, an insult no longer perturbed us or shook the motivation behind our attacks. Our motivation was life, and our objective; other peoples. However, our acts weren’t merely based on turmoil and destruction, our quintessential motivation was the pursuit of happiness. Our paths could not deter for we had no set road.
Like any normal person, we needed food and water to live, materialistic items weren’t such a bad thing either, but we were fine without them. If we wanted it, we stole it, and no moral influence stopped us. When you look at the world from our eyes, social boundaries are explicitly different. What would be considered inexcusable under other social classes is the norm for ours. It isn’t as if we blame our lives on any one person, but society in general. Society cast us out and let us burn this way, so instead of controlling the flame, we’re spreading the inferno. Our targets were no specific class of people, but its common sense, even for a hoodlum that old people are easier to manipulate. It is hard in our eyes to say what we do is stealing; it isn’t denial, but merely in a cataclysmic life-style which burdens us with the difficulties you could only read about.
I’ll explain in simplistic terms; we don’t steal, but take what we need for survival. Society casts us aside, and hopes to forget about us; they however, don’t figure that we are their future. I steal a book and it’s automatically considered it’s made out to be for warmth, it’d be ludicrous to think that an underprivileged pitiable disgrace of life would actually want to read. I’m not a misanthrope, but I don’t love people either, I merely accept that everyone wears an ambiguous veil upon their face.
I hope that you can now see the way society never gave me a chance, and why I came to stalk the little old lady, who assumed too much.
I believe it was February when my brother and I met the pathetic wretch of a life. She was pathetic in a different way then most people. She wasn’t too weak or useless; she just simply didn’t utilize what was given to her. Incase you misunderstand me, I didn’t loathe her, nor do I now, nor did I show the smallest bit of compassion to her, she was simply put; a target. We had watched her come and go from her apartment for about a week, carefully noting her queer normality’s.
The first time we decided to play our scheme it was a cold day and we decided we should shed our jackets for a more dramatic effect. We went up to the receptionist’s desk and asked for her name. The lady behind the desk suggested we try the second floor, so we heeded her direction and found the specific door. Upon my gleeful enjoyment, the old hag opened the door. To introduce myself as a distraught child who was looking for someone else. I simply asked if another lady was at the current apartment, as was expected the current hag said “No.” This simple ploy then opened up to a broader conversation which eventually led to my entrance of the apartment. I had effectively completed phase one of the future theft.
We had stayed on the first visit for only a short while, she offered us simple items, such as; cookies, candy, and a glass of soda. To carry out my scheme it was always wise to play it off as if you were too scared to accept something. Of course the person you were dealing with would come to conclusions that you were raised well and could not accept things from a stranger. I can’t blame people for having a good nature about them, if they didn’t, well, my life wouldn’t be what it is.
After our first visit, my brother and I decided that it would behoove us to periodically visit the old lady. On our second or third visit, I can’t remember exactly, I stole our first item. The lady had come to enjoy our company and loosen up on her guard. It was that visit that I stole her purse, a worthy choice which held an amount of $34 and a hidden diamond ring.
It should have been against my better judgment to never visit her again, but when you find something like that, you want more, its only human instinct to be greedy. The lady at the receptionist desk came to notice our regularly appearance, so she too had gained our trust. We went up to the hag’s room and as was expected she yelled at us for the theft of her purse. She ironically stated that she would have given us money if we had asked. I find that statement so ironic because the most this supposed benevolent old lady had given us was stale cookies and no longer carbonated soda. We were given nothing this time, but an escort to the hallway.
Again, my better judgment ceased to play a role in my life. I decided to be an *** and go back to her door asking for money. She had of course, stated she would give us money if we asked. On the next visit she screamed at me, and also at the world to call the police.
I laughed that encounter off. I was now addicted to visiting this old woman, and it was duty to drag my brother along as well. On our next visit to our pleasure, the woman had decided to move. Since the lady at the receptionist desk had come to notice us, we asked where our friend had moved.
We went out in search of our hag’s new apartment and quickly thereafter found it. Upon reaching the door to the new apartment I stated to my brother that we should in no way or form attack her in any way unless of course attacked first.
I knocked and she opened. She barely gave me first glance before she disappeared behind the door and then reappeared with an umbrella. She began to furiously beat my brother, it was then that I turned the tables and shouted for the cops so that the world would hear. My sudden burst of sound threw off the old lady and she stumbled over my brother. It was then that I wished I had never called for the police. She tripped with the umbrella’s steel tip facing upwards. It pierced her through the eyes and left her without the fire of life.
I don’t have the heart to write what happened next, but a quick summarization is that we were charged with murder and sentenced to jail, an existence worthy of my class.
Rob Graziano
Dear Society;
I regret to inform you that, yes we are living, and that yes, it sometimes simply, a way of life.
What would shock most people, only slightly affected us. It was a common occurrence, we had heard everything, an insult no longer perturbed us or shook the motivation behind our attacks. Our motivation was life, and our objective; other peoples. However, our acts weren’t merely based on turmoil and destruction, our quintessential motivation was the pursuit of happiness. Our paths could not deter for we had no set road.
Like any normal person, we needed food and water to live, materialistic items weren’t such a bad thing either, but we were fine without them. If we wanted it, we stole it, and no moral influence stopped us. When you look at the world from our eyes, social boundaries are explicitly different. What would be considered inexcusable under other social classes is the norm for ours. It isn’t as if we blame our lives on any one person, but society in general. Society cast us out and let us burn this way, so instead of controlling the flame, we’re spreading the inferno. Our targets were no specific class of people, but its common sense, even for a hoodlum that old people are easier to manipulate. It is hard in our eyes to say what we do is stealing; it isn’t denial, but merely in a cataclysmic life-style which burdens us with the difficulties you could only read about.
I’ll explain in simplistic terms; we don’t steal, but take what we need for survival. Society casts us aside, and hopes to forget about us; they however, don’t figure that we are their future. I steal a book and it’s automatically considered it’s made out to be for warmth, it’d be ludicrous to think that an underprivileged pitiable disgrace of life would actually want to read. I’m not a misanthrope, but I don’t love people either, I merely accept that everyone wears an ambiguous veil upon their face.
I hope that you can now see the way society never gave me a chance, and why I came to stalk the little old lady, who assumed too much.
I believe it was February when my brother and I met the pathetic wretch of a life. She was pathetic in a different way then most people. She wasn’t too weak or useless; she just simply didn’t utilize what was given to her. Incase you misunderstand me, I didn’t loathe her, nor do I now, nor did I show the smallest bit of compassion to her, she was simply put; a target. We had watched her come and go from her apartment for about a week, carefully noting her queer normality’s.
The first time we decided to play our scheme it was a cold day and we decided we should shed our jackets for a more dramatic effect. We went up to the receptionist’s desk and asked for her name. The lady behind the desk suggested we try the second floor, so we heeded her direction and found the specific door. Upon my gleeful enjoyment, the old hag opened the door. To introduce myself as a distraught child who was looking for someone else. I simply asked if another lady was at the current apartment, as was expected the current hag said “No.” This simple ploy then opened up to a broader conversation which eventually led to my entrance of the apartment. I had effectively completed phase one of the future theft.
We had stayed on the first visit for only a short while, she offered us simple items, such as; cookies, candy, and a glass of soda. To carry out my scheme it was always wise to play it off as if you were too scared to accept something. Of course the person you were dealing with would come to conclusions that you were raised well and could not accept things from a stranger. I can’t blame people for having a good nature about them, if they didn’t, well, my life wouldn’t be what it is.
After our first visit, my brother and I decided that it would behoove us to periodically visit the old lady. On our second or third visit, I can’t remember exactly, I stole our first item. The lady had come to enjoy our company and loosen up on her guard. It was that visit that I stole her purse, a worthy choice which held an amount of $34 and a hidden diamond ring.
It should have been against my better judgment to never visit her again, but when you find something like that, you want more, its only human instinct to be greedy. The lady at the receptionist desk came to notice our regularly appearance, so she too had gained our trust. We went up to the hag’s room and as was expected she yelled at us for the theft of her purse. She ironically stated that she would have given us money if we had asked. I find that statement so ironic because the most this supposed benevolent old lady had given us was stale cookies and no longer carbonated soda. We were given nothing this time, but an escort to the hallway.
Again, my better judgment ceased to play a role in my life. I decided to be an *** and go back to her door asking for money. She had of course, stated she would give us money if we asked. On the next visit she screamed at me, and also at the world to call the police.
I laughed that encounter off. I was now addicted to visiting this old woman, and it was duty to drag my brother along as well. On our next visit to our pleasure, the woman had decided to move. Since the lady at the receptionist desk had come to notice us, we asked where our friend had moved.
We went out in search of our hag’s new apartment and quickly thereafter found it. Upon reaching the door to the new apartment I stated to my brother that we should in no way or form attack her in any way unless of course attacked first.
I knocked and she opened. She barely gave me first glance before she disappeared behind the door and then reappeared with an umbrella. She began to furiously beat my brother, it was then that I turned the tables and shouted for the cops so that the world would hear. My sudden burst of sound threw off the old lady and she stumbled over my brother. It was then that I wished I had never called for the police. She tripped with the umbrella’s steel tip facing upwards. It pierced her through the eyes and left her without the fire of life.
I don’t have the heart to write what happened next, but a quick summarization is that we were charged with murder and sentenced to jail, an existence worthy of my class.