Steve's Bike: A Short Story

The Day I “Stole” Steve’s Bike Here I am, sitting in a jail cell on a not so normal Saturday. Oh, by the way, I am Jim West. I am 45 years old and still live with my mother, in San Dimas, California. In my free time, I go to Waterloo, the greatest water park ever made, and listen to music by the Wild Stallions. The children in my neighborhood, call me, Jim the single guy. But anyway, you might be wondering why I am in a ten foot by ten foot cell in the county jail. Well, here is the story from the way that I see things. 10:00 A.M.; “Jim wake up, you are late to work” my mom yelled downstairs at me. My job is at Chick Fil a, moving nuggets down a shoot. I get paid 15 dollars an hour, only because I have worked there for 20 years. I have to walk a mile to work every morning because I do not have a car, and the brand new bike sitting in the middle of the road was just too tempting. I took it, and peddled to work. Little did I know that the owner was a shy, ruthless, quiet ten year old with a grudge. At work, I heard police

Upstairs, I hear the quiet sound of a key being inserted into a lock and turning. I am wondering how Steve had a key to the basement, when I realize that I accidentally left the key on the dresser next to the basement door. I think that at least there is no way that Steve will be able to walk across my lego filled floor. Even so, I hear the quiet sound of a person crunching on legos. I realize that this trap is faulty also because, of course, Steve would have shoes on his feet. Luckily for me, I hid Steve’s bike in my safe. I decide to try and fool Steve by pretending that I am asleep. He seems to buy that I am sleeping, probably because of my very convincing fake snoring, and starts working on the safe’s lock. Faster than I could say the word “stop” Steve has the safe open, and finds his bike. I guess that 1-2-3-4 is not a marvelous combination after