Stealing a Defective Pen

*Disclaimer:  I realize that this post won’t make you want to be my best friend but I’m posting it anyway because anything worth having (in this case my friendship) is hard (in this case hard = the fear that I’m going to steal a pen from you … because I might!)

I purposely steal a pen from my son’s dentist’s office every time I bring him.  I steal one from the jar of pens on the counter.  I take it because they don’t take my perfectly good Blue Cross Insurance from California.  They only take Blue Cross from Massachusetts because it must be better.  So, I pay extra out of pocket.  We’ll just call that the autism premium.

Every time I steal a pen I am pathetically attempting to punch The Man (in this case he is more often referred to as a dentist … or a woman).  Because The Man cares if I steal a pen because He counts them and one of these days He’ll need one of the pens that I‘ve stolen at a rate of two per year and IT WON’T BE THERE!  AND HE WILL CRY … A LOT!

And IT WILL BE AWESOME!!!! (Or at least if would if I could see it.  But I won’t be there so I will just imagine it in my head.)

Perhaps the dentist realized through the strategic placement of hidden cameras that I steal a pen every time I bring Will in.  Perhaps that defective pen was intentionally placed!   Perhaps The Man is retaliating?  If so … well played sir.  And I will have to switch up my game.  Perhaps TWO pens next time.  I guess I’ll find out in six months.

Oh, the anticipation!