Last Sunday morning, whoever the putrescent scumbag was didn’t actually steal the entire L.A. Times, just broke into the pocket containing two freebie razors that were part of promo package in which the paper was wrapped.
Upon discovering the break-in I shrugged and let it go not only because at least the bastards left the paper alone and because the idea of a four-bladed (or was it forty?) razor seems silly and expensive to refill, but mainly because I’m a simple dude with simple shaving needs and I’m entirely satisfied with the Gillette twin-blader I’ve been rocking for so many years.
This morning I got up early and at sometime around 7:30 a.m. looked out the front window pleased to find the Sunday paper sitting a couple steps up from the sidewalk, and — my bad — I left it there to have some coffee and sweep up the couple dozen unripened figs that had plopped to the patio overnight, as well as assorted other menial tasks. A short while later out the front door I went only to find the steps empty.
An online request at latimes.com for a replacement was fulfilled within a half-hour, but regardless of how easy it is to get the theft rectified, I’m on the warpath. And whether or not the cheaptastic maggot is the same one that hit me last week or if there’s two such slime-trailing subspecies walking the neighborhood stealing my newsstuff by the dawn’s early light, let’s just say I’ll have the webcam set up next weekend and be ready for some red-handed catching should they feel emboldened to go for a third theft next week.