Post by Jamison Hatchett on Jul 1, 2016 19:28:00 GMT -8
Petty thievery wasn't the most flattering thing to add to the track record of an animal his age, but here he was, clutching desperately to a loaf of bread, trying to ignore the howls of protest as he rounded a corner at a full run. He didn't like doing this, stealing from others, it felt base and rather savage to be quite honest. But he was hungry, he was so hungry, it had been a while since he'd last been able to scrap up even a meager meal, and the lethargy that this caused caught up to him pretty fast, causing him to eventually slow to a dragging walk, panting heavily. He was scared out of his wits, would that animal flag down a cop to come after him? It wasn't like it was anything valuable, so surely they would just chalk it up to a bad day and leave it at that. But worse than the nagging hunger pangs was the guilt. It was eating him alive and washing him with a hot shame that was making him almost sicker than the hunger seemed to be making him.
He could always go return it, apologize, offer something in return for the trouble he caused, not that he had much. The anxiety was crawling up his spine as he stopped his walking pace to look back, nerves making his tail and ears twitch like mad. He took a breath and steeled himself, beginning to walk back in the direction he came from, but faltered, biting his bottom lip with his sharp teeth and making a sound somewhere between a whine and a groan. What would he say? Oh sorry I robbed you, sir, lets just put this behind us and pretend I'm not a scum bag. He looked frustrated as he planted himself on the sidewalk, shopping bag with the loaf of bread still held in his scuffed paws, "what do I do?" He asked, to no one in particular, he felt alone and a bit lost at the moment. But what else was new, he always felt alone and lost, this was a completely new kind of mess though, he had to decide if he would fess up and return the stolen goods, or be a criminal and probably do it again eventually.
After a moment of waffling internally, he stood up and turned tail away from the direction he came from. What was the point of trying to do the right thing? The streets didn't care whether you were bad or good. He reckoned he might as well be bad.
He could always go return it, apologize, offer something in return for the trouble he caused, not that he had much. The anxiety was crawling up his spine as he stopped his walking pace to look back, nerves making his tail and ears twitch like mad. He took a breath and steeled himself, beginning to walk back in the direction he came from, but faltered, biting his bottom lip with his sharp teeth and making a sound somewhere between a whine and a groan. What would he say? Oh sorry I robbed you, sir, lets just put this behind us and pretend I'm not a scum bag. He looked frustrated as he planted himself on the sidewalk, shopping bag with the loaf of bread still held in his scuffed paws, "what do I do?" He asked, to no one in particular, he felt alone and a bit lost at the moment. But what else was new, he always felt alone and lost, this was a completely new kind of mess though, he had to decide if he would fess up and return the stolen goods, or be a criminal and probably do it again eventually.
After a moment of waffling internally, he stood up and turned tail away from the direction he came from. What was the point of trying to do the right thing? The streets didn't care whether you were bad or good. He reckoned he might as well be bad.
