Prompt: Write a short story or poem (300 words or less) about a person who is either debating committing a crime or is in the act of breaking the law.
I'm the type of guy who likes to do things everyone else refuses to do. Usually, it's because they're scared they'll get in trouble, but I don't have those kinds of worries.
I do, however, have my doubts.
Not of my abilities or anything, no. I'm completely confident in myself. It's just that, sometimes, I wonder if the people who wrote the rules were drunk at the time.
It was my first day in this small town in the middle of nowhere, and of course, the first thing I did was look up the rules and laws to figure out which ones I could break without getting into too much trouble. Most of the rules were pretty generic; No jaywalking, no stealing, no killing, no harrassing, yada yada yada.
Then I came upon a particular set of rules that perplexed me. That confusion didn't last long for, at that moment, I saw the perfect opportunity not only to break a few rules but to prove just how stupid the rules were.
So, here I am at precisely 4:00 pm, leaning against the silver pole on the corner of Shortwood Street and Trinity Avenue, sporting my new shiny purple sunglasses. Purposely, I chomp on my gum as obnoxiously as possible and blow big bubbles. At my feet stands a small pig, looking around as if confused. As it wanders towards the street, I yank it back with the leash.
Above me, a sign reads:
"NO leaning on this pole, NO wearing shiny sunglasses, NO chewing gum, and NO walking pigs between 4:00 and 6:00 pm."
A police officer walks by. He takes one look at me, then at the sign, and sighs.
"Stupid rule, innit?" he said.
I smile. "Why else would I be standing here like this?"
The officer laughs. "Carry on."
And I do.