So they booked you for trespassing (trespassing!!) and in the circuit court called you a petty thief. Well what do they know about pickpocketing, cat burglarizing, safecracking, them lazy mollies, your stick-up mobsters, fairy mitts in God’s harness, or shovin the queer?
Not a mug of mule, not a single cup of joe.
Trespassing, and called you a petty thief! What are things coming to, I beg of ye?
Had they been there, had they seen how you mizzen masted the auntie’s after two weeks of casing the joint, shivering in your bennies crept up behind lamposts and anklegrabbing behind shrubberies, then they could talk, then they could buzz the rube, they could chirp cheap turkey but can they go cold turkey?
They ever been in the slammer, ever chalked time in the can, been busted by a flatsole, ever done time with a snuff of real yellow canaries and yet never squawked a how-dee-do? Ya jolter, ya mensch, ya felt-bottomed blown yegg!
Petty thief my kisser, you bunch of lousy nutheaded plainclothes pen pikers.
What these sloughbreeds gave me, from punk to piper as God is my witness, I give back, and it is my craft and my kiester, it is my pretty puffin.
Petty thief, pipecleaner, piker all the same to you. Just don’t call me late to dinner.
Spats, bill whistles and gravy, third time this week.
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