Surf's Up

I always wanted a skateboard. When I was twelve I begged my parents to buy me one. Funny thing was that technique worked for so many things but not for the skateboard, or the pet monkey. At some point I realized I wasn't getting a monkey or a skateboard. I resorted to other tactics. Fortune left me with a choice one fine day in the form of a neighbourhood kid's skateboard left in our driveway. Who was I to say no thanks to the gods. Especially after all that praying. I didn't know who to pray to but I figured quantity would prevail and just prayed to the whole darned Universe in an early spiritual version of spam.

So I had a skateboard. I also had access to a can of silver spray paint. Soon I dubbed my new polyurethane board "the Silver Surfer". The biggest problem was that I couldn't use it in front of any other humans. I snuck it out into the parking lot of the Nursing Home when no one was around and learned how not to fall as much and how to avoid breaking my skull in exchange for twisting my ankle.

One day, well a three days later actually, my mother asked me a very significant question: "Have you seen Craig's skateboard?" Craig's mother Mrs. Pitt had called. I did what any child would do. I lied. "No. No I haven't" and left the room in a classic avoidance strategy.

A guilt trip followed. From my mother but also from that annoying little voice in my head. I came up with what I was certain was a clever plan. I waited a day and reported that I may have seen the skateboard in a ditch nearby. Sure enough there it was. It was returned soon thereafter and no questions were asked.

Childhood: the formative years of the criminal mind.