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Home Page › Music & Entertainment › Story Narration
 

The Troy Burroghs: The Thief [Now in English and Spanish]

 

The Troy Burroghs Adventures [Impressionist-Traveler]

The Thief

You just never know what is around the corner on this planet do yah. I was somewhere in Boston I think, I think I was a little out of it, you know, drunk and found myself in another town, place, kind of like a Giant Black-Out, anyways here I am at the mission, and I got to eat, got some sleeping gear here also, I put it over in the corner for the moment, found myself in an earthquake looking at someone from across the table, the building's shaking.

A thought went through my mind: go outside, and so I did, I found a money clip with some money in it, my hands a little nervous, I quietly put it in my pocket, a black guy saw me do it. I checked out my pocket again yaw it's there. I had two sets of keys, where did I get them I ask myself. I don't have a car to drive. This is weird. I then gave the black guy one of the two money clips I found in my pocket. Yup, I had two of each, money clips and sets of keys: weird things happen in my life I'll tell you. I must have found them somewhere (I'm talking to myself I think). I remember the one money clip, I kind of stole it, back in the old days, in my old neighborhood, back in the early or mid 60s we called it scarfed it: there's no such word but I didn't know that back then, I mean it's not in the dictionary" ?the 'ed' part of it anyhow; let's see now, where was I (?): you know, I found it, them in my pocket. As I was about to say, I gave one of the money clips with some money in it to the black guy. He looked desperate, like me I suppose.

You know, we get our good and bad days; this is a bad one. I now took out one set of keys and threw them into the street, as I stood along side of this building.

Now I heard a cop's voice say:

"Who threw those keys, they belong..."? that is all I could hear. The black guy looked at me, threw the money clip on the ground with $5.00 in it, and hi-tailed it out the back way up a hill. I figured dandy, I'm standing here and he scoots to who know where.

I stood there for a moment, then said to myself,

"Guilty or not guilty, get your ass moving, if the black guy did, he knows, get going: they got these build in antennas you know, and they are better than radar..."? and I hi-tailed it around several street corners" ?dodging incoming rounds as if I was in Vietnam.

I had escaped, not sure what, but I suppose: being suspicious and being interrogated; then I heard the cops found the black guy and questioned him, he had a record but I didn't, therefore they couldn't find me; didn't know my name, nor did the black guy. No one knew me from Eve, I mean Adam; nor did the people at the mission, where I had supper. I think the world is coming to an end.

Written: 11/2002/Revised and reedited 1/7/2006; the writer was in Boston, in l969, just for a few days, on his way to Germany, and thereafter, to Vietnam.

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza

Las Aventuras de Troy Burroghs (viajero impresionista)

El Ladrn

Ud. Justo nunca sabe lo que hay a la vuelta de la esquina en este planeta verdad? Yo estaba en algn sitio en Boston, creo, Pienso que estaba un poco fuera de esto, Ud. sabe, ebrio y encontrndome en otra ciudad, lugar, una clase de amnesia gigantesca, de cualquier manera aqu yo estoy en la misin, y consegu para comer, consegu alguna ropa de dormir all tambin, lo puse en la esquina por el momento, encontrndome en un terremoto mirando a alguien a travs de la mesa, los edificios sacudindose.

Un pensamiento vino a mi mente: ve afuera, y as lo hice, encontr un sujetador de billetes con algo de dinero en el, mis manos un poco nerviosas, discretamente lo puse en mi bolsillo, un muchacho negro me vio hacerlo, yo comprob mi bolsillo nuevamente, yaw esto esta all. Yo tena dos juegos de llaves, donde los consegu me pregunte. No tengo ningn carro para conducir, esto es extrao. Luego yo di al muchacho negro uno de los dos sujetadores de dinero que yo encontr en mi bolsillo. Yup, yo tuve dos de cada uno, sujetador de dinero y juego de llaves: cosas extraas suceden en mi vida te dir. Yo debo haberlos encontrado en algn sitio (estoy hablando conmigo mismo pienso). Yo recuerdo uno de los sujetadores de dinero, una especie de faja. Atrs en los viejos tiempos, en mi antiguo vecindario, atrs en los tempranos o a mediados de los aos 60 nosotros los llambamos scarfed it. No hay tal palabra, pero yo no lo sabia entonces, pienso que no esta en el diccionario- la parte "ed"? de esto, de todas maneras, djame ver ahora, donde estaba yo (): tu sabes, los encontr en mi bolsillo, como estaba a punto de decir, le di, uno de los sujetadores de dinero con algn dinero en el, al muchacho negro, el miro desesperado como yo, supongo.

Tu sabes, nosotros tenemos nuestros buenos y malos das, este es uno de los malos, yo ahora, saco un juego de llaves y los tiro a la calle, mientras yo permanezco a lo largo de este edificio.

Ahora escucho la vos del polica diciendo:

"Quien tiro esas llaves, ellos pertenecen"? eso es todo lo que pude or. El muchacho negro me miro, tiro el sujetador de dinero en el piso con $5.00 dlares en el, y huyo agachado por el camino trasero hacia el cerro. Me imagino afectado, yo estoy permaneciendo aqu y el se escabulle a quien sabe donde.

Yo permanec all por un momento, luego me dije a mi mismo,

"Culpable o no culpable, consigue mover el culo, si el muchacho negro lo hizo, el sabe, muevete: ellos consiguieron fabricar antenas tu sabes, y ellos son mejores que un radar"? y yo agachado alrededor varias calles esquivando esquinas entrantes de ida y vuelta como si estuviera en Vietnam.

Yo haba escapado, no seguro de que, pero lo supuse: siendo sospechoso y siendo interrogado: luego o que los policas encontraron al muchacho negro y lo interrogaron, el tenia un record, pero yo no, sin embargo, ellos no pudieron encontrarme; no conocan mi nombre, ni el muchacho negro. Nadie me conoca desde Eva, pienso Adn; ni la gente en la misin, donde yo haba cenado. Yo pienso que el mundo esta llegando a su fin.

Escrito: 11/2002/ Revisado y reeditado 1/7/2006; el escritor estuvo en Boston, en 1969, justo por pocos das, en su camino hacia Alemania, y de all, hacia Vietnam.

Ver la pgina de Dennis

Author: Dennis Siluk
 
Author Bio:

Dennis Siluk

Writing is more than a hobby for me. It's a passion, one of the ways I capture and celebrate life.

This article can be searched using: digital storytelling, online story reading, digital story telling, the art of storytelling
 
 
 

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