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© Copyright 1998, Jim Loy
A year or so ago, it was about 3:30 A.M., and I couldn't sleep. I decided to do my laundry. My apartment complex has a laundromat. When I got there, there were three high school girls, standing around. I said, "Howdy." They guiltily filed out the door.
I went to my favorite washer. And the coin box was badly damaged. I went to the window, and watched the girls drive away in a car. I noted the license number. I didn't have a pencil, to write down the number, so I walked home, reciting the number. I wrote down the number, when I got home, and called the manager of the apartment complex. He called the police.
I washed my laundry, as the police took finger prints and got my story.
The car belonged to the father of one of the girls. The police confronted the girls, and they confessed.
The coin box that they were breaking into had a plastic sticker that said $100. This, it turns out, means $1, the cost of washing a load of clothes. I suppose the girls thought that there was $100 in there.
The girls agreed to do yard work around the apartment complex, as part of their sentence. They got in further trouble, by doing no work. Their parents pleaded with the manager, to not complain to the court. Fat chance.