The Ascot Thief: Part I
Posted on 08 January 2013
Before the Heist
The shrill sound of police sirens permeates the cold air. I can see my breath, as thick as smoke, billowing out of nineteenth century steam engines. As I traverse the city by foot, I can only imagine the warmth its citizens are feeling- cozying up to fires and streaming their favorite sitcoms. I pass by street kids with a fashion all their own and wander past empty parking lots and closed cafes on my way towards the ocean cliffs. I tighten the ascot tie around my neck and hope for the best. Tomorrow, no one will be any the wiser and I will be a richer man.
I finally arrive at my house on Sea Cliff Ave- A soft yellow, quaint abode with bay windows. There is a tangerine tree in the front yard which passersby sometimes sneakily take from. An eye for an eye, I suppose.
The Ascot and the Thief
Bentley, my soft-coated wheaten terrier greets me at the door. I remove my ascot tie and hang it amongst the others. Opening the humidor I pull a cigar out of the box, cut it, light it and continue to strategize.
Tomorrow I will wear my lucky ascot. A classic, vintage, hand tailored brown ascot that I’ve worn throughout my career. It will forever remain in my wardrobe. Every man should have one, I think. It can change the way you go about your daily life. An ascot protects and transforms me into anything I want to be. Not to mention, women love it. Anyways, I won’t leave home without it, for tomorrow it will bring good fortune.