Crime

Loitering. My last crime. I’ve always wanted to be a bad person. To spit in the women’s decolletage, to be always sick with measles so that others will get infected, to misguide tourists when they ask me where the memorial is.

But I’m simply too old for this. All I can do now is loitering.

I’ve been sitting on this bench for a while now, for what feels like 4 hours. I’m tired of life.

Lonely as a beacon watcher, no one to watch me die.

Oh, I see a cop approaching me.

“Sir, have you seen the no loitering sign?” he says.

“Ohohoho, of course. Forgive me, officer, these cracking ankles are no good for anything anymore,” I answer.

Life vanished before I could think much of it.

The cop gives me a ticket and a warning. I guess that’s it. That was my last crime.

But before I will be gone, I still have a list of things to do.

I’ll have to get meat for today’s dinner with an acquaintance.

And so with a loitering ticket, I’m off to the butcher. I’m not going to pay the fine.

I’ve arrived at the butcher. My other acquaintance.

“Good day, Mr. Fleeces. What’s it gonna be today? Breast? Thigh?” he asked.

“You know what I prefer. It’s the soul that matters.”

“Hahaha! Oh I sure know that. Well, today we have a special offer, cerebellums in jelly!”

“Well, that’s gross. I’ll take two,” I say.

Now that that’s done, I’m thinking about decorating a room a bit. I’ll visit one of the art garage sales of my acquaintance.

Arriving at a place, she greets me with her usual hand wave.

“Hello, Mr. Fleeces! Are you here for the usual?”

“Not today, but I could combine beneficial with pleasant, sure.”

There is a lot of expensive art here. All of it is abstract.

“I’ll take the most expensive one,” I said.

“Great! What account will you use today?”

“I’ll transfer the money from mine.”

The girl wraps me my new picture and I’m heading out. While there’s still some time before the dinner, I can relax.

My apartment is nothing special. One room in full white color at the highest floor of the complex. I also have a little open balcony with a chair.

I’ll make myself some coffee. That’ll wake me up at just the right time.

Coffee, milk, a bit of vodka, white sugar, brown sugar. Some more sugar. I love sugar. Even though I’m not really supposed to eat it at this age.

…

It’s dinner time. I’ve already decorated the room with my new painting. I’ve bought a lot of them, but this is the only one I’ve kept.

I hear the doorbell ring. Behind the doorstep is an old friend of mine. He’s just as regular looking as me, though he’s certainly a fat one.

“Ah, Cecil, long time no see,” he said.

“Come on in,” I invited him.

We sat down at the table. My favorite spot is sitting on the balcony while the table is inside the room.

“Hm, what is this painting? You never struck me as a humanitarian,” he asks.

“I just wanted to decorate my room a bit. You know, to look at something on my death bed.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re not a fan of children, right? That’s why you stayed single.”

“Well, one time I tried it didn’t turn out well. I’m never going to get married again. That’s why we’re having something special today, something that someone’s wife will only try cooking to poison their husband. Cerebellums in a jelly.”

“Oh, I thought you were a soul enjoyer? Me personally, huge thigh fan.”

“Hmm… You know, we throw the term soul too lightly these days. It needs to have weight to mean something.”

“Well, I’m fine with just having it.”

“No, it’s not that. Everyone has it, but someone weighs way more than others.”

“Was this an offense?”

“No. Sorry if that sounded like it.”

“Ah. It’s fine, you’d be heavier anyway. Well. Thanks for the dinner,” he says and stands up.

“You’re welcome. I rarely see this room so filled with people anyway, thanks for keeping me company.”

“No, you’re doing that on purpose… You know what, I don-I don’t care. Just tell me one thing. How even old are you?”

“Starting sixth decade.”

“Huh. Well then, happy birthday, Cecil.”

The man wandered off through my door. And now it’s time to celebrate loitering.