Don't Steal My Shit Because I Will Take It Back

Ok so check this little story about the time my truck got stolen about two years ago.

The night starts out with Stef and me going to a Sole show at slim's. I drive my truck up to the spot and have a fun filled time finding a fucking parking spot. I find a spot down some side street about two blocks from the club. We go in and see some rap singers. At the end of the night we come walking down the street and turn the corner to see another car in my parking spot. I'm thinking what in the fuck. Stef gets a bad feeling and thinks it's jacked. I'm wondering of those bitches at city-tow decided to hijack my shit again. I'm fucking pissed cause I can't afford to have a motherfucker take my goddamn truck. That's all I fucking got man. When I left Arizona I threw everything I had into the back of it and what didn't fit was left. I didn't have shit to my but that goddamn truck. Well after standing there for a while I'm like fuck this lets just go home so I can call those bitches and see if they towed my shit.

We get home and I get on the phone. City tow tells me that if it was recent it wouldn't be in the system so I had to call the police and find out if it went down. I call the police station and after a while they tell me it was towed. I'm like ok cool, I'll just deal with this in the morning. The next day I get up and call City Tow to find out how much it's going to cost to get out. They tell me it's not in their system. Now I'm confused cause last night they said it was. I call the police again and the person tells me it was NOT towed. I tell this woman that's not what they said last night. She informs me the only record they have was from 3 months ago so apparently the dumbass from last night can't read dates for shit. She gives me a number to call to report it stolen. I call and they tell me the cops are going to come by the apartment and talk to me.

The cops show up and ask what happened. I tell them the deal about how I got out of the show and it was gone. Then these fucking bastards ask me if I was drinking and I say yes. Well they suggest the idea that maybe I was intoxicated and couldn't find my truck. What in the fuck dumbass, I wouldn't walk home if I thought I fucking misplaced my goddamn truck. This isn't fucking mustang sally, I know where the fuck I park my shit. I'm not some retard who thinks a parking lot is a battle of wits. I tell this dumbfuck that I'm positive it's gone. He says ok and asks me for the title. I tell him that it is still in Arizona. Then these helpful bastards inform me that they can't do shit until I have a copy of the fucking title. I have to get that shit faxed before they will do anything or even report the motherfucker. That's great because now I'm fucked because my parents and I weren't really talking because my dad fucking hates me. Well they don't hate me but we weren't really on speaking terms. I figure I'll have to hit up my brother about this shit and see if he can fax that shit to me. In the meantime I take my keys everywhere and just look at every car I see. San Francisco is not that big of a city and I felt like there was a good chance I might see it again.

One week later there is a Mr. Lif show at Slim's(the same fucking venue). We decide to go and now that I'm rideless we have to mob down to a bus station. Two goddamn blocks from our apartment I see a white truck. I look at it and I think "no fucking way." Then I spot the stickers on the rear window and I fucking know it's mine. I see some fucking dude standing next too it and at that point I start fucking running with my fist clenched yelling "MOTHERFUCKER THAT'S MY FUCKING TRUCK!" The guy raises his hands and starts jabbering some bullshit about how his friend said it was his. I take my keys out and open the door as Stef comes running up talking about calling the police. At that point the guy just breaks the fuck out and leaves the scene. I don't really give a fuck because I'm just glad to see my truck. Problem is that it's filled with shit and my steering column is ripped to goddamn pieces. I start throwing shit out on the street. I don't give a fuck what it is. I start coming across heroin needles and motherfucking crackrocks. Then while I'm dumping this shit out two other dudes run up all in a panic asking if they can get their shit out the back. I'm like who in the fuck are you pieces of shit. Then explain to me that they were just riding around with the other guy and the other dude told them it was his fucking truck. They just wanted to get their bags of clothes out of the back. I tell them go for because otherwise its going in the trash. One of the guys then tells me that the other day they actually got PULLED OVER! The stupid ass cops didn't do shit to the motherfucker because it wasn't reported stolen, even though the goddamn steering column was all ripped to shit.

Anyways I get the truck home, park it and we go to the show. The next day I get up and start cleaning the shit out of it. I find all kinds of bullshit, more clothes, needles, rocks, bag of pills and just bullshit in general. I find some tools and figure out that these homeless motherfuckers were using my truck to go do goddamn construction so they could get money to buy drugs. I found a piece of shit bill of sale that I think the dumbass who took it wrote himself. He got my name off the registration and wrote the bullshit on the back of a receipt with a fucking sharpie. I don't know if he showed that to the cop but I'd like to drop kick the dumb ass pig who thought that was some legitimate shit. I thought about calling the cops with the information I had but you know what fuck those assholes. They didn't help me get my shit back and I'd had enough of trying to deal with those dumbcocks.

Now you might be thinking I'm very lucky to have found my shit but it wasn't luck. That's the shit that happens when your me. You see back when I was at Arizona State I rode my bike too school and some piece of shit stole that while I was picking up some books at the library. I was pissed but two weeks later I'm sitting at the bus stop and some fucking gutter punk comes riding up on MY MOTHERFUCKING BIKE! I sit there and stare for a second because I can't believe this bastard just rode up and fucking sat down next to me. This motherfucker is trying to talk to some girl so I start taking all my shit off all nonchalant and set it down next to me. I'm thinking I'm going to have to kick this motherfuckers ass to get my bike back. I step to this fool and ask him "hey where did you get that bike." He tells me "I bought it off some kid on mill." I respond with "Well that's my fucking bike and you're going to give it back to me right fucking now." This piece of shit gets all flustered then starts blabbing bullshit about how he didn't know and I fucking know he's full of shit. I probably should have kicked his ass but you know what I didn't really give a shit at that point. I got my bike back and I was on my fucking way.

The lesson of this story is that you shouldn't steal from me because you won't have my shit for long. I will take it away from you.