Cops work in pairs around here. One can read, kinda,the other pretends to be able to write…. sorta…
Anyway I knew I wuz burnt when I saw ’em walking toward my chicken-house, where I was busy trying to coax more than one egg a month from my two ‘free’ range hens.
I’d seen the piece in the morning’s English-edition ‘Ha’aretz’ paper : “See-saw Seat Sought”
The article went on to describe a ‘wave of playground vandalism’, and mentioned that a suspect was expected to be aprehended shortly.
My Defense: I don’t know what came over me. One fine morning I awoke with weird mood-swings, felt myself sliding, bored, down that slippery metal slope towards criminal activity. Helpless, I watched as I ascended the monkey-ladder into a world of passion unleashed. I don’t know, something about the innocent little munchkins sitting on the see-saw seats… And having that very seat, all mine now, under my bed.
Not that ‘See-saw Vandal‘ looks particularly attractive on anyone’s resume, and not to mention what happens in jail when they find out that I’m the perverted dirt-ball who sent little Melanie home in tears from school. Might as well forget my plans to run for a Knesset seat, even on the Communist ticket.
Anyway, the fat cop didn’t waste much time with small talk:
“Officer Tom seen yer ‘Thom Sawyer’ See-saw saw at the scene.”
I gulped, but not audibly.
“Yes, the very same see-saw saw that you used to saw the ‘see’ off the see-saw. On the night of May 29th”, his partner, ‘Tom’ continued.
Cursed Internet. Why in the hell did I assume that if they sell it openly, if it’s a simple ‘Add to Cart’ click, it’s probably legal? And ‘flaming red’ for the colour of the’ shock-resistant poly-propylene handle’? Dumb choice. Now I realize.
It seemed like a freaking god-send at the time. A simple 180 degree flip of the handle and the saw goes from high-quality wood cross-cut blade to hack-saw metal cutting function. Just that alone saved me hours, on those frenetic nights when I cruised from park to elementary-school to day-care center, steering with one hand, then ‘having my way’ with an embarrassingly-long rap-sheet of gaily-coloured steel-and-pine attractions. Usually I
settled for simply cutting off the ‘Teeter’ end of the ‘Teeter-totter’. Somehow the name helped me to
get…you know… off. But some nights, it’s all such a blur, after the second or third time, I needed to whack off both sides of the apparatus, leaving bloody stumps, symbolically. God help me, I hope I don’t have amputee-fetish.
So, all in all, the handcuffs felt ‘right’ somehow. It wuz gonna happen, sooner or later, like in Bonnie and Clyde.
Was it worth it? Hard to say. They subpoena-ed my credit-card records. $59.95 plus shipping. For that money, a dozen or so furtive ‘little-death’ experiences there in the dark, un-observed (or so I thought) play-lots.
My first ‘peak-experience’, at age 12 or so, was one morning at recess when I finally, after months of un-success, managed to grapple my way to the top of a mighty and highly high swing-set at the elementary
school they finally built us in time for 6th grade. My public defender may or may not decide to make
something of this.
Plus, I bought a brand new welder, and I’m willing to repair all the damage my lasciviousness has done.
A gorgeous welder, all solid-state, with stick-in electrodes spitting fire and jism, and all at my
Jeezuz, I need help.
Wu: I been saying that for years.
Js: So where do I start, friend?
Wu: Well, for one, I just pull the bolts connecting the seat to the crossbar. Lots quieter. They’re usually 12 millimeter.
Js: Yeah but the ratchet sound kinda destroys the mood for me and then… Wait! That’s your ‘help’, Wu?
Wu. The First Step in getting better is like, not getting caught, duh. But anyway, how much you want for the saw?
Js: I knew I was in good hands here.