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The Purse Snatcher

Drew Marshall

    It was a foolproof plan. We would meet back here in this abandoned building and split the money three ways.
    My fellow delinquents and I headed to the beach in search of our victim. I spotted a late middle-aged couple. They sat gazing towards the sea. The purse was a few feet from the senior woman’s knees. It sat on the edge of the blanket. The purse begged for it to be stolen from these ancients. Perfect!
    The fact that this was a beautiful Sunday of bountiful sunshine, complimented by a cool breeze, eluded us. A lazy day invented for cloud watching and floating in and out with the tide.
    We took our positions. Being the fastest, I grabbed the purse and ran. I ripped it open, grabbing the wallet and dropping the purse. I glanced behind me. The man was in hot pursuit. This was not part of the plan.
    I threw the wallet over to Roland; sped up and never looked back. I didn’t stop until I hit the street. I was the first to arrive at our hideout.
    Vinnie finally showed up, gasping for breath. About ten minutes passed, and Roland popped in. Wearing a wicked smile, he pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.
    Being the brilliant seventeen year olds that we were, we then headed back to the scene of the crime. We would spend our ill-gotten gains at the world-renowned, Nathans Famous Hot Dog Stand, in Coney Island.
    I was happily daydreaming and munching on my dog, when a cop car appeared out of nowhere. The vehicle pulled onto the curb. It screeched to a halt, inches away from me. I saw the guy who chased me in the backseat. He pointed his finger at me. His shouting could be heard for miles. “THAT’S HIM! THAT’S HIM! THAT’S THE SON OF A BITCH!’
    I flew off and ran down the side street. I was several blocks away before I slid down an alleyway to rest. Without a penny to my name, I walked the two miles back home. I met up with Roland and Vinny a few hours later. They filled me in on their narrow escape.
    It had never occurred to me that a dried up, wrinkled sack of bones, would chase after us. Until now, I couldn’t conceive of our pigeon as ever being young. I now understood he had been someone’s son. The man could be a brother, and father. That stranger was probably a grandfather as well. He was another living, breathing, human being. A spirit endowed with amazing speed and stamina to boot.

    It was the first and only time. I had learned my lesson.

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