Kleptomaniac Robs a Plane

Author's Note

Some of you may like to listen to music while reading, and others of you may not, but for those of you that to, this is a song I was listening to while writing this. Anyway, enjoy!

I'm a robber. Burglar. Thief. Bandit. Pirate. Highwayman. Call it what you will, all of those terms are synonymous. I've always been one. I guess you could say there's irony behind the correlation between my hobby and my name, which also happens to be Rob. Although, it's not short for Robert, but for Robin. Which sounds even more like "robbin'," which is even more ironic. I get quite the chuckle out of it.

Anyway, I've stolen many things, and have gotten away with it. Now, let me get one thing straight. You can't call yourself a robber if you get caught stealing. That's just not how that works. And to those of you who do get caught, you make it harder and harder for us better at it to do what we enjoy. People always seem to be coming up with new and improved ways to stop us. But for those of us who are really good, and I mean really good, we can get around it. 

I have a rather large box hidden in the back of my closet of all of the things I've stolen. There are some things I won't steal, like clothes or shoes, since they have those tags that are ridiculous to remove if you don't have the proper tools, which are a nuisance to carry around. Anyway, in this box, there's things ranging from little plastic animals to books of all genres. Sometimes if I'm low on money, I'll bring some of this stuff and sell it to some of the sleezier people that go to my school. Don't get me wrong; I know what I'm doing isn't right, but it's just become a hobby. And the thrill I get is very satisfying. A kid who grew up and still lives on the wrong side of the tracks needs to make a living somehow. Some people are dealers, others are gangsters, while others are thugs for hire or just the bouncer at the local bar. I don't know how my mother affords to send me to the private school I go to, but she does. And the kids there are desperate. They'd rather be in my shoes, I think sometimes, but they don't know that sometimes I go a couple days without dinner. It's not even like I come off as a kid who would be a klepto, which is probably why thrift shops and convenience stores and gas stations don't suspect me.
To make a long story short, I'll just give it to straight up. My friend Simon and I, we pretended to be pilots and stole the Airbus A380. Gotta get that feeling of being alive somehow, right? We'd never flown a plane before, but somehow we got it into the air without being suspected. I'm guessing Simon got into the flight tower and drugged the people running it, because no one seemed to think anything was wrong.