My first heist.

Back when I was in seventh grade, we had a guidance counselor who, on your birthday, would give you a card good for a free Big Mac or fries or something at McDonald’s. You ever see those? Like glossy business cards, had “Be Our Guest” on them. Anyway, she had a whole box of those things. And I knew where she hid them.

I never did like that guidance counselor. More on that another time, maybe. I had a friend distract the office ladies, and I made my way into the counselor’s office. She wasn’t in, obviously. And there, in the very back of a file drawer, were the McDonald’s cards. I grabbed half the box (around fifty cards, if memory serves) and got the hell out.

My accomplice and I split the cards, and we agreed to be smart about using them. We only had the one McDonald’s in town, so spacing out their usage meant the cards expired before we got to use all of them. Bummer.

I’m sure the Statute of Limitations has run out on that particular caper (this was 25 years ago or so). If is hasn’t, then the whole thing was the other guy’s idea.


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