Cookie was an inmate in the prison where I worked. He told tales that passed for truth–for the naive and uninitiated, like me.  He said one day (on the outside) he’d been in an alley atop a ladder painting near the roof when his wallet fell out of his pocket.  A rotten thief picked it up and ran with it before Cookie could climb down.  Cookie escaped prison and after being caught said  he had  almost  phoned me. I said of course I”d have had to turn him in. He said oh, not knowing I’d have waited  a day.    (100 words)

 

(Being a newbie, I went out to lunch just before trying to post this. Seems I missed the deadline.)