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I used to shoplift when I was eight.
It was about a year after the Yu-Gi-Oh! card game got traction and I had a genuine interest in playing it. My mother's friend had a younger brother who was seventeen (we'll call him Jason) and was willing to drive me to our local game shop every Saturday for tournaments. The place was a bit small, dirty, was run by a pair of nondescript middle-easterners, and a good portion of the merchandise was ersatz, but I didn't give a shit since it was packed to the brim with some quality toys and games you'd have been hard pressed to find anywhere else. Anything from model kits to the latest Hero Clix.
We became regulars at the store, with Jason even getting a job as a part-time clerk there. I'd lose all the time and make a fuss about it, but I'd always want to come back and play again. It was a tight-knit group every week, so we knew each other pretty well. It was mostly filled with teenagers and adults with a few older kids sprinkled in, so I was usually the youngest at all times.
Surrounded by new toys constantly, the urge to steal was getting to be unbearable. I couldn't explain what exactly it felt like now that I've long since grown out of my kleptomania, but when that feverish impulse took over I did everything I could to secure a new toy that week. Started off small enough with some Dragon Ball cards, but I got bolder each time and started going for bigger things. Beyblades, booster packs behind the counter -- I even got away with a whole Hero Clix Starter Set. The trick was that it was the winter and my heavy jacket had a large hole tucked behind my back. You could slip in just about any item and you'd have a hard time telling what, if anything, was in there. The one time I was asked if I knew what happened to missing merchandise, I was told to turn all my pockets inside out. Obviously they were empty, which cleared me of all suspicion. It really started getting out of hand.
