Jim Ellis
Publsihed: February 4 2004
Many don’t realize that I am a reformed criminal.
I was a member of the “funny straw gang” out of Virginia.
You may or may not have heard of us.
We modeled our criminal activity after infamous historical figures like Jesse James and Billy the Kid.
While our reign as terrorizing criminals was short lived, the that it has had on my life has been dramatic.
There were three of us in the “funny straw gang.”
Our ages ranged from 5 to 7 years old.
Because I was 7 and the oldest member of this criminal network, I became the gang leader.
It started when several privileged classmates began bringing “funny straws” to school to use with their lunch.
The have-nots looked at these “funny straws” as the key ingredient to living the good life.
Each straw wrapped around like a mini roller coaster.
I watched in awe, as my fellow students would sip their juice.
My eyes would follow the stream of liquid as it was sucked out of the carton into this scientific marvel.
The juice would travel through, flip around and loop in every which a way, finally finding the mouth of these well-to-do second graders.
I would then look down at my Government Issue straw that was pulled out of a box of hundreds and handed to me by the cafeteria lady with not so much as a smile.
It served its purpose, but a roller coaster it was not.
I was sure that even the juice would taste better if only I could get my hands on one of these “funny straws.” I had to get a “funny straw.”
I enlisted the help of two other underprivileged youths to pull off the heist of the century.
Once the “funny straw gang” was assembled, we devised a foolproof scheme that could not fail.
One person would stand as a lookout at the end of the aisle as the other two filled their shorts with “funny straws.”
We hopped on our bicycles, rode out and headed to the drug store five blocks away.
We were determined to right the wrongs of society. It was our plan to make sure the have-nots did not suffer under this evil hand of oppression any longer.
We were the modern day Robin Hoods – concerned with straws, not laws.
We were all nervous, but no one showed it.
That would be a sign of weakness and mastermind criminals are many things, but never weak.
Because I was the leader, I had to show the bravado of 10 strong men.
“This is going to be a breeze,” I told my fellow gang members.
A couple of times I wanted to turn back, but the thought of taking my “funny straw” to school the next day far outweighed any rational thought.
We pulled up to the drug store and walked through the double doors and past the turnstile and then directly back to the “funny straws.”
I looked with wide eyes at the “funny straws” in their different shapes and colors and wondered if the drug store knew the valuable commodity that it had in its possession.
The price of these precious jewels were .89 cents for a five-pack.
This was out of our price range, but not out of our reach.
My accomplice and I grabbed three packs each and stuck them deep in our shorts.
This was a total of 30 “funny straws,” which was plenty for the huddled masses.
We motioned to the lookout and began to make our getaway.
The heist went terribly wrong when I noticed a woman with a blue apron standing between the exit and us.
Oh no, we hadn’t thought this far ahead. She looked down at us and asked what we had in our shorts.
“Nothing,” I said.
She grilled us with questions, and after 90 seconds of grueling interrogation, she broke me down.
Because I was the leader and had to show the strength and resolve of a hardened criminal, I believe my exact response was, “I want my mommy.”
If memory serves me correctly, I think it was at this time that I began crying uncontrollably and slobbering out all of the inside information that was only reserved for privileged members of the “gang.”
My fellow gang members looked at me with disgust.
I was the diabolical criminal that they had once respected and aspired to be.
Three other drug store associates circled around us.
We were outnumbered.
There was nothing we could do now, but cooperate.
I reached in and grabbed the packs of “funny straws” out of my shorts and listened to the lady with the apron explain that if we continued on this current path of criminal activity we would wind up in prison.
“Do you want to go to prison?” she asked.
I wondered if I would ever see my mom again.
Finally, she said that she wasn’t going to tell the authorities THIS time, but if she ever caught us stealing again she would have us “sent up river.”
She didn’t need to tell me twice.
The funny straw gang” disbanded, and my life of crime was no more.