Going, Going. . .Gone !

Okay, so like any other day in my life I'm searching for my Flash Drive [ which is a wonderful little stick that holds my life long work on there ]. I had been searching for about a week now. Of course, I didn't trip because I always misplace Betty [ the name I picked for my Flash ]. In addition to losing Betty, I always find her as well.

Coming up on the end of the week, I start to literally sweat bulletts because I haven't found Betty, yet. I start to think the worse, "Maybe I threw it away in the trashcan!" No, because I hate cleaning my room. "I probably left Betty at school." Impossible, because I'd never make the mistake of carrying her around, just to lose her somewhere on a street.

At the beginning of the next week, I'm talking to BooSkie, who has been wondering why I've been on edge lately. So, I admit that I've been bitchy lately because I had lost Betty and couldn't find her. After laughing for a few minutes, because I named my Flash drive Betty, he tells me that his younger cousin was using something similar to my FlashDrive last week.

Long story short, BooSkie's younger cousin stole Betty. Babe, rescued Betty, and brought her back home to me the next day. I'm excited when he whips her out of his pants pocket. I plug Betty up, and cover my eyes. BooSkie stops talking in the middle of his sentence, and my stomach turns cold. Hesitantly, I move my hands and look at the screen. Nothing is there.

All of my lifelong work is gone. ALL GONE ! I grab my cell, and run outside to my porch, as I break down in tears. The pain I feel at this point is so bad that I had to call Moms` and get her to talk me down. I can't believe it, all of that hard work, has now disappeared into the RecycleBin of a public library computer. My poems, stories, inspirational quotes, are all gone because of some dumbass little fucker who has sticky fingers.

Never do I say things like this, but I HATE motherfuckers who steal. You never know how hard somebody has worked, or how important something is to someone. When you steal, all you think about is taking something away from someone else, because you want that thing in your possession.

Damn those Sitcky Fingered A`Holes !
I ought to break every finger on his thieving little hands !