I was just a criminal mastermind. One of my earliest memories is one of the neighbors getting a beautiful red tricycle for his birthday, and me, being a covetous little bastard, stole it from his yard when they were inside. I knew that I couldn't get away with it as it was, so I hid in the shed, where I found a bucket of bright yellow paint (Think curb paint) and brush painted the whole thing- and I mean the whole thing, tires, handlebars, spokes and all. No one could possibly ever think I stole it, it was a bright red tricycle, and here I was, the proud owner of a bright yellow tricycle, (and bright yellow hands, and butt) so I was really surprised when the grown ups figured me out in an instant. My parents had to buy him a brand new one, and I was made to pick strawberries to earn money to pay my parents, and was given the awful looking yellow tricycle at the end of the summer when I'd paid it off.
