The Police Steal My Bicycle

HOLY CRAP WAS I EVER PISSED. That is all I can say. It was my favorite bike. A Halloween orange and black GT Hard Rock. And, it was my pride and joy. Man, I loved that bike. It was Chachi's 200 Anniversary Special. The 200th bike that had Chachi had managed to pick up and ride because of his special relationship with his riding sponsors. And, he had sold it to me for a song. He needed a cell phone and I just happened to have the cash to buy him one that day and the deal was done. History was made in heaven. That was my favorite bike in the whole world and I learned nearly all the skills I acquired from practicing everyday of the week for months on end on that bike. I knew it like I know my mother.

So, when the police in Vancouver BC outright stole it from me  because, I am only assuming in that I am giving the officer who took it the benefit of the doubt, that they were pissed off at me over my antics from the previous night. Otherwise, quite literally, this cop just came up to me in the parking lot beside the Pharmasave on the corner Davie and Thurlow street and mugged me for my bike. It has to be the doubt that any officer of the law in Vancouver, unless he was on acid, would bluntly steal my bike while on duty right out in front of the community police office in broad daylight.

So, I know why they took my bike. But, it was the fact that this officer of the law actually literally stole it from me that was the straw that ruptured the camels spleen.

I was utterly horrified that he actually broke the law in uniform before me. There are many points where this story really does take off and this was definitely one of them. I was never the same again. I can break the law. I'm not a cop. But, he can't. When this cop decided to actually steal my bicycle to get back at me for something I was doing to them into the wee morn hours to bother them he broke the law. That was utterly inexcusably and indefensible. I didn't care anymore.

I lost my faith that day. All at once it was gone. It was the contract; It was the social contract of Locke and Hume that I lost.

And, it can be that easy too, to tick off an angel. I can be just one tiny itsy bitsy teeny weeny little shitty stupid fucking thing to you man. But, because we angels are perfect in that way it can mean the end of the world to us. And, when the cop illegitimately stole my bike from that day that's what it meant to me, war.

It has to be that way with us angels because we put the law above ourselves. That's just how we come shipped out of the box, perfect. If you break a contract with us, angels, that's it. It means war.

This is a pivotal scene. Needs ore exposition of how I was becoming. Something like this; Here I am an ambassador from heaven and you steal my bike? Like WTF plebe? You have to be a little more prepared that anyone of you may meet Him in any fucked up mangled form he wants. And, you better get it right. Or else He is just gonna freak out man. I mean that's what he's like. Read the book. He freaks out man. Like He literally just fucking freaks the fuck out if you don't get it right. That's kinda what I felt like around then. Like, 'Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, I know already this is just not gonna do it for him.'