Confession: The $100.00 Bill Incident

Crime is not as pretty as it looks

It was raining of course. That is what rain does. I was walking in it. Naturally that is the kind of sense I have. It must have been morning because that is when I usually get up and go outdoors. Perhaps I was ten minutes into my daily routine when the pounding rain came down on me even harder with a particularly fierce fury and would not let up. I don't own an umbrella. That would be too extravagant for me and I did not want to project myself to the population at large as being some kind of sissy boy. What would the neighbors think? I happened upon a string of shopping stores with a very large parking lot made of clean perfectly black asphalt. There were no cars there due to the early hour and the stores were not open at this time. This is where my world turns upside down. There in front of me, sitting there on the asphalt surface, being poured on by the driving rain, was a folded $100.00 bill. I picked it up with my two good hands. They are always good because they only do good things. I unfolded the note and inspected it. I actually scrutinized it front and back to make sure it was the real deal. It was and it was wet. I too was wet.  For the first time in my life I felt ecstatic, happy, thrilled to be alive. My heart was racing in tempo with the rain. Immediately I secured the green note in my left pocket with the better of my two good hands. (That would be the left one if I remember correctly.) You can never be too safe with new found money.  I turned around instinctively to return home like some thief who had just held up a near by bank.  All of a sudden a stream of newly hatched thoughts entered my being. Where did this C note come from? Who is the true owner? How did they....how could they...why did they lose such a precious commodity? At the same time and in the same instance I thought; What should I buy first? Perhaps something small or should I think big and purchase something large? Should I invest it or just spend half of it right now and ruminate over the remainder for other purchases at a later date? I should set it out to dry on the table when I get home and simply let it sit there in front of me while I contemplate my new future and fortune. After all, I am a simple man of simple means. That would be the correct course of action for me. It dawned on me all of a sudden that something was wrong. My elation turned sour before I approached my doorstep. The word “ecstatic” was not really the word I should be looking for. It should be eX-tatic....if such a word exists. I became nauseous, filled with fear and loathing for myself. I am the opposite of ecstatic. I am a criminal. This is not my money. It belongs to someone else. I rushed to the closest police station and turned myself into the authorities. I turned the $100.00 over to the Desk Sergeant. The bill was still wet so the officer looked at me with a raised eye brow and deep rooted legal vision of suspicion I'm sure. He must have felt disgust and thought unpleasant things about me and my entire lineage dating back to primordial times. I could see the malice in his glazed over reptilian squinting eyes with the black ominous gaze, dissecting me like an insect from his high seat of justice. His insipid defining judgment condemning me before I even speak, before I utter a single word, to confess to who knows what and who really cares what crimes I've committed from his perspective, from the lofty bench from where he comes from, from where he sits?  I stretched out my two hands together to have them cuffed. They were no longer two good hands. They were filthy dirty with crime and criminal intent. I stood there trembling with my head held low in shame, ready to be taken away. A large detective in a long gray coat came from some dark cell or cavern or chamber of horrors in the back. He slammed the iron door shut behind him. I'm sure he does not want to reveal the mysteries of his inner world to me, a simple bug like creature so easily intimidated by such hideous powers of the law and obvious gargantuan size and behavior of this man. I'm sure he had bigger fish to fry than me and wondered why he was being bothered by the likes of me. His thick bushy black mustache and his contrasting shiny white bald yet globular head where a sight to behold. My jaw dropped down. My eyes popped out in shock. I was ready for the execution. He sank down to my level, twisting his head side to side to size me up. He came face to face with me with the power of the law, the breath of the zoo and history behind him at his call for our protection. His deep throat-ed voice shouted out load; “Get out of my precinct now!” “You are a crazy person!” The desk officer forced me to take back the $100.00. He stuffed it in my jacket pocket. Two bulky guards lifted me from the floor I had grown so fond of all this time. My feet, or should I say, my shoes no longer felt the force of gravity beneath them. I was thrown, literally tossed onto the ground outside with police man force. The street was still wet and yes, it was still pouring rain but justice had been served.  What have I done? What can I do? I am not the true owner of this bill. It probably was lost by some old widowed woman who had to work for weeks to earn it in some dingy sowing dungeon in the dark and cold to feed her three famished children. (It could be worse. She might have had five children.) Now they would have to starve to death because I am out having fun...a joyous time..at their expense while they languish and die without attention...and without nourishment I might add.  There still might be a way for me to save my soul. I could give the $100.00 to charity or better still; I will open up a savings account and have the money grow into a phenomenal grand fortune for the future. Who knows what the future will hold. I might even happen upon another $100.00 bill by chance. What would happen then?