My dad used to tell me a story.
When Dad was 11, he stole candy from grocery store. The clerk caught him, and dragged him over to my granddad. This relic of the Russian KGB smacked my dad over the head.
"Do you know why I'm mad at you?"
"Because I stole the candy?"
"Because you got caught."
Grandpa wasn't the most respectable man. My father has grown into the very symbol of honesty. We should all strive to overcome any remnants of poor upbringing and find ways to consistently improve.
Also, someone stole my bike this week, and that was super not nice of them. If anyone sees a grey bike in Manhattan, call me. It's probably mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment