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True Stories by Steve Keely
Life of A Beloved Rebel
Welcome to the world of rebels. When I moved to Blythe, Ca. six years ago, I hadn't stolen anything yet. I just rode a motorcycle-with-sidecar and wore my pants backwards. In the first year, a man sicked his Doberman on me, my bank called the cops thinking I was a thief, I was banned from the library, and there was regular shortchanging at the registers and crossing streets to evade me. Now it's Halloween 05, and I do customary shopping for a disguise. The town pursues me for chat or for advice, everyone wants to walk at my side, and there's no escape save under a wig. The difference is that I became a substitute teacher in a spot where children are gold to parents. It's terrible, and I hardly go to town any more. People used to be better, still are good in spots in America, but the overall advice is to find a niche, cultivate it, and just let em' call you a worm in the apple. Or move along.
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