George Frankel, a chewer, liked to steal things from Wal-Mart. He reasoned that since there were so many Wal-Marts in America, there was no way that anyone would notice if a tube of lip balm or a can of fruit went missing from the shelves. So, every Tuesday after work he would hop into his 1998 Ford Explorer and go shopping. He would pace up and down the aisles, setting cheap cans into his basket and shoving other items into his pants. He was jittery and quick, and explained his hand’s presence by yanking a tin of chew out of his pocket and cheeking a pinch or two. Once it got to the point that he could barely move, George would pay for his cans, stride out of the store, and hop into his Explorer before peeling away from the parking lot. No one ever questioned him.
One frosty Monday, George had to pick up his niece from high school because his brother, a day-trader, had to stay late in the office. When he was done chauffeuring her to her mother’s house, he didn’t have the gas to go to Wal-Mart, so, by the time pay-day rolled around, he was desperate to pants some toothpicks. Breaking his habit of only stealing on Tuesday, he marched into Wal-Mart and began shoving packets of tuna and toothpicks into his jeans, taking the time to pinch some chew after every hit. Soon, his pants were so full he was afraid someone was going to notice. Not bothering to actually buy anything, he walked as fast as he naturally could out of the store. As he exited, something caught his eye: Food Drive. The local food shelter was collecting non-perishable items to serve to the homeless on Christmas. Stopping for a moment, he placed a single packet of tuna into the collection box. Then, displaying the gaps in his mouth where teeth should be in a crooked smile, George walked away, hopped into his Explorer, and drove smoothly out of the parking lot.