The Hello Kitty Heist of ’81

All these nostalgic posts of late reminded me of one of the most felonious moments of my childhood.  For the record, I would like to place the blame for this  debauchery squarely on the shoulders on my dearest friend G., who in her infinite braininess, orchestrated the whole thing.

The P. G. was the stationery store of my childhood.  I had frequented the store with my mother on many occasions, but on the day of the heist, I was there with G. and her mother.  G.’s mom went into the Grand Union to do some grocery shopping and we were left to our own devices.

I vividly recall casing the Hello Kitty display, a reconnoiter if you will, eyeing up the best loot and lowest visibility to the cash register area.  The exact details of the actual thievery are a bit hazy, but images of my 7-year-old self stuffing Hello Kitty pencils, notepads, other Kitty emblazoned paraphernalia under my shirt are what I see in my mind’s eye.  Somehow we managed to pull of the heist–honestly I can’t say how because we must have been quite obvious–stealth wasn’t our strong suit.

We made it safely (we thought) home and made a beeline for G.’s bedroom where we made a huge pile of our booty.  Apparently we weren’t as suave as we had imagined, because the next memory I have is of G.’s mother busting through the door.  We were trapped like deer in headlights, hands frozen in midair over the loot, guilt scrawled across our cherubic faces.

Her mom frog-marched us back to store to return the ill-gotten goods.  We were pale and trembling, certain that we would be flogged and put into the stockade by the store owner.  I had visions of finger printing, mug shots and cramped jail cells. 

In the end, the owner gave us a stern talking-to but let us off without any real  punishment.  G. and I were so relieved and thankful that on the way out we each pocketed a Hello Kitty eraser as a souvenir of our brief foray into a life of crime!