Dude, no.

I happened to tell Colleen that I never lock my doors. In describing my Old Van, I mentioned my Raphael. End of the day, about to go home. I’m not surprised she pranked me, but dude, don’t take my turtle! She could have taken a lot of things out of the van, and I would have just laughed. But that turtle hasn’t moved from that spot in at least six years. It was almost falling off. I doubt I’ll even be able to get the remaining two suction cups back on the window.

My interior monologue thought about this for a little bit. This hurts me, as if your favorite toy has just been broken. Sad, but not really angry. Ever realize how much energy it takes to be angry? Nah, I’d never yell at Colleen like that. I don’t think she’s capable of invoking such emotions from me. I think the worse I’ll do is grab her and give her a Satan voice, and otherwise be short with her.

And maybe start smacking her ass again when she isn’t looking.

I know she locks her doors, so I know I can’t prank her back.

Well, at least she didn’t take the ancient Mount Olive Chronicle from five years ago, about Trent Dunkle’s mom.

Hrmph.