Benny

I don’t steal. Y’might think that, but I don’t. I ain’t no thief. It’s like my Mam told me, when I were little, and we was burying our cat in the back garden – everything’s this part of each other, and it’s all inter-related and everythin’ goes on and that. So I ain’t stealing, I’m just takin’ possession of it for a time. Nothin’s forever, after all.

I take all sorts o’ stuff, though. It’s my little game. I’ve got shedloads of it now – piles of all kinds o’ junk. I don’t sell it, mind. I used to ask Mam why we needed money, and she said that it was to buy things. So it’d be stupid sellin’ stuff to get money to buy more stuff, wouldn’t it? I’ve got all the stuff I could need.

Most of it’s kept in the attic, where Mam never goes, but some of it I keep in my room. I go up to the attic now an’ then, usually to put in something else that I got, but sometimes just to sit an’ look. I like to make up stories ‘bout the things there. How this one belonged to a pirate, who got robbed by a highwayman, who donated it to charity. Not the usual boring stories you find in them kid's books. I have some of them, too. Kid's books, I mean; I used to look at the pictures.

The special stuff I keep in my room. These things are the ones that’re special to me. Like this teddy bear. This was the first thing that I ever took. It was in school on this day where the teacher told us all to bring in somethin’ that was special to us and tell everybody ‘bout it. This girl, Tina, she brought in this bear called ‘Barney’. She gave us all this waffle ‘bout how it was really special ‘cause her gran bought it for her just before she died. This dumb bear, with glassy eyes.

I wouldn’t have done anythin’ to it, though. It was her own fault. She’d keep coming up to me and tugging on my arm, then grinning and going back to her friends. They’d giggle. I can’t stand people laughin’ at me. Makes me angry. Then one of her friends come up to me and said ‘Tina likes you’, and giggled some more. So when she wasn’t lookin’ I took this goddamn bear. She never found out who did it.

I just hate people makin’ fun of me. They always regret it, too. There was this lady that used to live next door. Her husband had left her for this other woman, and Mam kept sayin’ how this woman, Chrissie, was lonely, and kept inviting her round. She used to ruffle my hair and ask me how I was getting on in school. There was one day I got really angry, though; she’d said, ‘My, he’s turning into a handsome lad, I bet all the girls are after him!’

Later that night I sneaked into her house and took her wedding photo. It was still on her bedside table. I did her a favour, if you ask me. I hate wedding photos. They’re all the same: woman in white, man in black, everybody lookin’ as if they’re the happiest people ever. Don’t last, though. Take my Mam – I bet she thought she was happy on her wedding day. He left in less than 2 years. She doesn’t have the photo any more.

Tina and that woman ain’t the only people I’ve gotten back at, though. Once this guy from school started a fight with me. Broke my nose. Wasn’t hard to find out where he lived, though – I followed him home. I went back later that month and took all his school books. His parents and the teachers didn’t believe it, though, and people thought he'd lost them or thrown 'em away. He got suspended in the end.

I’ve taken more than stupid bears an’ wedding photos, though. It was just little stuff at first. Then I began to take bigger stuff. I’ve taken pretty much everything you can take, now. I like takin’ stuff from people’s houses best of all, ‘specially at night. They never even know you’re there. It’s the best game in the world – you get all anxious and on edge, and shivery, and then once you’ve taken it and dashed out it’s just this tremendous high. Nothin’ like it. Taking stuff directly from people ain’t as much fun. Sometimes it’s fun to move things around, too. I wonder which they notice first – the missin’ TV or all the pictures hangin’ in the wrong places.

I like stuff that has name labels on it, too. I got loads of that – girls’ pencil cases, with ‘Ellen’ or ‘Judy’ scratched into the side, clothes with name tags. All sorts. If you look at my things you’ll find plenty of other stuff, mind. A TV that used to belong to old Mr Warner down the road. A photo album that I took from this girl’s bag. A dolls house that belonged to a kid across town. Cutlery, although I can’t remember where I got it. Home videos; I got loads of them. I like stuff that has a history, so you can tell who it belonged to. Other stuff still gives you a rush when you steal it, but there ain’t no story behind it.

Latest thing I took was this morning, from a little girl. She’d put her teddy down for a sec. So I picked it up. Then again, you’d know that, wouldn’t you? I dunno know what that kid called you, but I think your name should be Benny. Yeah, Benny. You’re not like that other teddy bear I took. That thing was just a dumb stuffed toy. You remind me of this bear I had when I was a kid, that my Mam bought me. I used to carry it around everywhere with me. Didn’t really have a name – I just called it ‘Teddy’.

I don’t have Teddy no more. I got in this fight with my big brother years ago, because I wouldn’t let him borrow somethin’ – don’t remember what – an’ he threw it out the window. My brother’s a doctor now. I went outside to get Teddy, but he’d landed in all this dirt, and it was raining, so he was muddy an’ wet. He weren’t the same after that. He was dead. So I threw him in the dustbin. I regretted it later, but it was too late then. Now I’ve got you. Right?

Except you ain’t the same now I told you all this. Not real no more. That’s why I was going to bury you in the garden. At least it’s peaceful out there – better than bein’ chucked around by some dumb kid. Only, I can’t now. When I got home, Mam was there with a couple of policemen. They had a search warrant, and went up to my room, then the attic. Mam wouldn’t look at me.

So now I’m in this weird room with all the policemen around. Still got you, though. I wouldn’t let ‘em take you away. I think they thought I were crazy, and should humour me, so they didn’t really argue when I insisted on takin’ you with me. I ain’t crazy, though. At least you know that. I told them everythin’, too – just like I told it to you, so that they’d know. Not much point in lyin’, really. I ain’t no liar. Anyway, all games have to end eventually, so’s a new one can begin. Just like my Mam said.

By Jenny Williamson

Copyright March 2006