Peter the PickPocket in Paris

52 Stories in 52 Week: 2007 ## 10: Peter the Pick Pocket in Paris

By: Mr. George Patnoe Jr.'s Ambidextrous Writing Brain + Mind

Peter the pickpocket made a living by slipping his hands into stranger’s pant’s pockets, or even their coat pockets, or even into their backpacks, handbags, and briefcases. Peter was born into a family of pickpockets in the tourist of town of Paris, France. As a boy, Peter was amazed at all of the people from around the world that walked the streets to visit his hometown. He had live in Paris all of his life, until his family moved to America, where they traveled from one city to another, mainly to escape the hands and jails of the local police departments. During his boyhood, childhood, Peter’s dad held a normal job of being a waiter at a local restaurant where international tourists would sit down in the white steel chairs so they could taste the local food. Peter enjoyed his sit downs at the restaurant because he could watch not only his dad set people up for the ‘kill’, but he could also watch people from all over the world.

Peter would watch the differences between the Americas and the Chinese and other international travelers, how they talked to each other, how they ate the food and either rejected or enjoyed the food. Peter would also notice how they would argue and sometimes fight with each other, even though Peter could not understand some of the languages of the international travelers. But Peter learned very early to watch the body movements of every person who entered the restaurant. Every person moved a bit different from the others in the group; some people were leaders or decision makers while other people were followers. Some people were very careful with their every bodily movement, while other people showed signs of being a little wild. Some people were quiet and shy while other people were loud and crazy talkers. They all had personally traits.

As a side line, Peter’s dad was not only an expert pickpocketer, but he was also an expert pickpocket teacher for his son. Peter would sit down in a white leather chair in a safe corner so his dad could keep an eye on him, while Peter would keep his eyes on his dad. Sometimes, Peter would sit at the bar, on a tall bar stool, so he could watch his dad in action. A professional pickpocket would use different techniques for the calm person compared to the swaging person, but no matter what kind of person the pickpocket was trying to steal from, Peter knew that the hands had to be smooth, when either smooth or fast. Peter also knew that he was supposed to be watching his dad play the nice guy as he was also playing the bad pickpocket er. It was strange for Peter to watch his dad because Peter began to realized just how straight people’s faces could be when they are planning to stab you in the back. When Peter saw his dad being nice to people, so he could get close enough to steal their wallets and stuff, Peter began to realize that maybe he should not trust his dad or any other person on earth.

Peter’s dad would sometimes work alone, but at other times, he had co-pickpockets helping him steal the wallets from people. Peter would watch them work as a team, some bothering a person, to distraught that person so another pickpocket could slip a hand into a pocket or a purse with the hope that money and credit cards would be in the purse. Afterwards, the team would split the money up evenly, except for the team leader who would receive a little extra for commanding the whole operation.

Peter realized very early in the risky game of pickpocketing, that the reward was sometimes not worth the risk, because some wallets little or no cash in them, and sometimes the person might unexpectedly move in the wrong direction, which would reveal the hand in the picket. Then the pickpocket would have to escape the scene by either running away or even yelling something like everything was just a big misunderstanding, as he walked away.

But when the wallets were filled up with cash, Peter would notice the joy, smiles, cheers, and laughter that were written on the face’s of the pickpockets. Of course, Peter could also see the people’s faces when they realized that their wallets, money, and Ids were stolen as easily as taking candy from a baby. So Peter knew that he did not have to be next to the people whose wallets were stolen to know the anger and frustration in the minds of the unprepared people and tourists.

Peter and his dad and his friends ripped off everyone they could, even their fellow countrymen. Peter secretly thought that was anti-patriotic, but his dad always stated that he had to supply the food for the family, and since he had not been caught yet, he was not going to stop being a pickpocket. Inwardly, Peter knew that one day his dad could be caught stealing a wallet, especially if the would be happy person was an undercover cop. Undercover cops were stationed all over the city, but they were placed in those areas of the Paris city that people liked to visit the most. Places like the Metro, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Champs-Elysees, and of course the museums, monuments, hotels, beaches, trains, and train stations, airports, subways, etc. etc. etc. Peter did not travel with his dad to all of these places, mainly because the restaurant was most recognized location to spot the local undercover cops; cops who were looking to catch a pickpocket in action.

On Sunday, Peter would normally worshiped at a local church, named The Prince of Peace Church. Peter would slip out of his bedroom as his parents slept. Slipping out of the house on Sunday morning was easier than slipping his hand into a pocket to grab a wallet. His parents slept like babies after they had partied and sexed themselves for a Sunday morning deep sleep. While in church, Peter would watch the congregation, but he had never stolen a wallet from anyone because Peter felt as if that was some sort of sin, to steal a wallet from a church goer, a religious worshiper, on a bright Sunday morning. One Sunday morning, Peter was standing by a racked candle holder and he lit a candle as he put some coins into the coin box. Peter then bowed his head down for a single moment of prayer, so he could slip away from earth and think or even non-think about religious thoughts about heaven and hell, along with some of the teaching of his church.

But in a way, he even wanted to escape from the so-called religious teachings of his church too. He desired to find something else in the moment, as if to find a single truth that he had once read in a book of spiritual masters. One quote stood out from many quotes. "When I was boy and I looked into the flame of a candle, all I saw was a candle's flame. But when I matured into a spiritual man, when I looked into a candle, I saw the universe." Peter looked into the flame of his personalized lit candle and he began to wonder about the flames in the sky. Flames of the billions of billions of galaxies that moved around like billions of billions of fish in a ocean of water. But space was not like water, though it was like water. Seemingly empty spaces between living fish or living galaxies, with life in each creature that knew not the life in the other creature. But how could that be? thought Peter.

If the true life of one fish was like the life of another fish, then maybe the life of one galaxy was like the life in every other galaxy, even though they all looked different. So many kinds of looking fish with all the same kind of simple watery life. So many billions of billions of galaxies that maybe contained the same sense of life in each different looking galaxy. Peter opened his eyes and began to exit the building. During his walk towards the door, he had accidentally joined a crowd of fifty or so people as they all tried to leave through the same single set of doors. In one fell scoop, his somewhat small body was pushed up against the preacher/ priest and his hand had slipped straight into the loose pocket of the priest and he grabbed the container inside of the priest’s pocket just as he had practiced thousands of times before this unintended Sunday morning pickpocket, as in an accidental pickpocket.

Peter slipped away with the hundreds of people as they kept moving towards the grass and parking lots, and even to the local parks for a Sunday walk in the park. Peter then slowly slipped away, as he kept his eyes towards the ground, to avoid being asked by a grown up to join in a group gathering or a bunch party. Peter desire to be alone, to open up his new container, and to find out what the priest had in his pocket.

Like the thousands of people who sometimes wondered what the life of a church priest was like when they were not attending to a mass or a sermon or a preaching hour, Peter was now excited at the possibility of discovering something really secret about the priest. Maybe something magical or possibly dangerous was inside the steel container which Peter now held as his own personal object.

Peter walked into the forest that was located next to the city park; away from the city life, to hide from the world, and to open the priest’s container. Peter sat down on a huge rock, the biggest rock among so many huge rocks, to rest, and to prepare himself for the one moment when he; a lonely boy, would reveal what the priest held in his pocket.

Peter started to think to himself, "The pocket is like the mind. Everyone knows that every pair of pants and every coat has obvious and hidden pockets, just as the mind has obvious qualities, along with those hidden qualities that no can see or even read until the moment might be to late for the onlooker. What is in the pockets of the pants might reveal what is in the hidden mind of the person who wears the pants. And how much more so for a priest, who lives behind closed doors, who is totally silent about his personal life because when he speaks, he usually speaks about: his religion, his beliefs, his theories of life and morals and how everyone should live their lives, and maybe even discuss the dilemma of heaven and hell. And then, he, the priest is gone from the listeners view until the next week.

Peter looked at the small, silver steel container as he tried to guess what was inside the priest’s box, along with what was inside the priest’s past, and his hidden mind. What made the weekly priest tick, what secret did he possess that maybe he did not want anyone to see. Slowly, Peter lifted the container box and Peter looked inside the box. The octagon crystal ball seemed to glow, like a colorful piece of glass, but not just a normal piece of glass, but like some magical crystal ball because of the octagon shaped mirror inside the shiny octagon crystal ball.

Peter looked into the octagon crystal, only to find himself starring onto the octagon mirror. He vaguely recognized his eye ball in octagon crystal, on the octagon mirror, but the reflect eyeball seemed so strange; as if he was looking at another person’s iris. As if the octagon crystal ball was another eyeball to another realm, and the octagon mirror was another iris to another world. Peter lazily starred deeper and deeper into the octagon crystal ball, onto the octagon mirror, only to find himself less of himself and more of another creature. Slowly, Peter slept himself into another dream world, where pickpockets were not allowed.

Peter had become a saint on an island for those people who needed the advise of a wise man, the help of a healer, a humanized, yet divine entity from another world, from another cosmic age, from another life where people only desired to do good and not evil; who only desired to live life and not to kill in the name of a make believe god that never existed anyway. Furthermore, Peter walked in a white robe, as priest, for the people who needed a cosmic communicator, who could teach the people about love, even when they found a reason to hate enough to find a tool for revenge, a tool for a killing revenge. Peter stood before the masses, who were all sitting down before him, as the sun shone downward onto the people, letting in light from a distant star.

As Peter stood before the masses, Peter opened a huge box. The box decorated with a gold covering with silver cherubs all around the box. Peter opened the box and he slowly let out the huge octagon crystal ball with the octagon mirror inside the huge octagon crystal ball. The huge octagon crystal ball floating ly hung on a long, but very thick gold chain; a chain which was connected to the highest point on the ceiling of the octagon shaped church. Peter looked out towards the masses who stood before him, even as he noticed his dad as an old man; along with the octagon crystal ball with the octagon mirror deep inside the octagon crystal ball and Peter yelled to the crowd of masses, "Look inside the octagon crystal ball and look even deeper onto the octagon mirror and look at the reflection which is your our own mind, your own life, your own soul. Look and tell no one what you see, because each one must face their own memories and their dreams and their own soul. Because when you leave one realm of existence for another realm of existence, it is very possible that we are transformed into our own hopes and visions from other past lives and even from our hopes and dreams for our future lives." Peter yelled no more.

Peter’s dad ran up to the crowd to Peter, yelling "Peter, Peter! Because Peter laid still on a small rock, lifeless; yet with a gleam in his eyes, and with the biggest smile his dad had ever seen on Peter. He pushed the crowd away and knelt down to hold his son, the boy who had turned into a man. Peter’s body had fallen while Peter’s soul had transformed itself into a bigger purpose, somewhere in a different universe. Next to Peter was the small container with the octagon crystal ball with the octagon mirror inside. Peter’s dad picked up the thing and he wondered what it was and what Peter was doing with such a strange object.

Peter’s dad looked straight into the octagon crystal ball and then he noticed the octagon mirror. Looking into the octagon mirror, Peter’s dad looked into a different side of the mirror than did Peter. (Each side of the mirror possessed its own magical ability!) Peter’s dad ‘s mind instantly time traveled into the future of Peter’s life. Peter was standing before the masses, on a huge podium, next to the huge octagon crystal ball with the huge octagon mirror inside of it. The white robed Peter again, yelled to the crowded masses, as his invisible dad was watching from another space - time dimension. His dad was supernaturally dreaming, as he floated through Peter’s futuristic space - time world , watching his son as not only a man, but as a spiritual leader of thousands. Peter yelled, with a supernatural voice which filled every ear in the land, (and also in other dream worlds) "God is not up in the sky, though God is part of the sky. But God is not only a creature of Infinite Love, but also a Love which changes the life and the mind and the hearts and the souls of all human, no matter how small, or how big, or how old or young, or how rich or poor. Look into the God like mirror and see your true inner self for what you really are and not what you pretend to be."

So Peter’s floating dad floated even closer to the octagon crystal ball and looked really close to the octagon mirror. Then he froze, like a weather balloon held in place by a string; stuck like a frozen ice cream, but still able to see into the octagon mirror. He saw the past! He saw the boy Peter sitting on a bar stood, wondering about life as he watched his father pickpocket the tourists pockets. Peter’s dad began to feel a bit shameful as he watched his own self committing a crime and even the aftermath of that crime. People crying for their money, IDs, family pictures, and other important papers. Peter’s dad telephoto lens to closed up and then magnified Peter’s face, as the scene slow down, like a bad dream with a good message should do from time to time.

The Peter’s facial muscles could not hide his dissatisfaction with his dad’s practice of robbing people from their important travel papers, money, etc. Peter’s dad’s inner soul hurt with a pain of guilt, with the kind of pain he had never known before.

Peter’s body moved, forcing his dad to snap out of his supernatural dream. Peter yelled, "dad, what are you doing here?"as Peter felt the pain in his own head and body, Peter realized he must have fallen from the largest rock to land on the bottom rock with pain in a few spots on his body. He also realized that he wanted that octagon crystal ball with octagon mirror in it. Looking around, he tried to snatched the ball out of his dad’s hands, but his dad’s hand moved in the last possible moment, causing Peter to slide off his dad just slow enough for his dad to catch him with his other hand. "Ok, you can have it back. But we have to find a new way to make some part time money." Peter responded, "Why is that?" Peter’s dad laughed as if had seen the future. "Because I think it is time for you to learn something else besides how to be the world’s best pickpocket; and it is time for me to be a better example as a dad for my son’s future."

Peter smiled because he had seen the future too!