Citizen Steff On the Case: The Continuing Chronicles!

I'm still really blue, but hey. These things don't shake so easy sometimes. I'm having some decent moments in amongst all the drudgery and doldrums, though, so it's not all black-as-hell. I'm trying to persuade myself that I ought to cycle to work tomorrow. It would probably do me a world of good.

THAT's not why I'm writing.

NO. There are BIGGER things to report!

TONIGHT, I stopped a thief!

I was grabbing a burrito at the magnificent Red Burrito on Commercial, waiting patiently for my turn at the counter in the jam-packed eatery, when I saw an obvious meth addict stagger casually in, sneak up to the counter when the staff was distracted, slyly take the tip jar, cover it with her baseball hat, and slink inconspicuously towards the door. Not a fucking person noticed. Not a one... except CITIZEN STEFF!

Now, I have a commanding voice -- I resonate. As Grade 4's Mrs. Potschka would have said, I "pro-nounce my vow-wels and con-so-nants with vi-gour and bel-low!"

Girl can shout is what I'm saying.

In my husky radio-ish girl voice I bellowed out, "YO. THAT CHICK'S STEALING YOUR TIP JAR!"

Everyone shut the hell up, all eyes turned towards the door -- the door the meth-head was stepping out of. She must've been really high and stupid, 'cos she didn't make a break, she just lethargically stepped on the sidewalk and was waiting for the light. The dude at the door stepped out to question her, and she shook her head at him, but by then the three staffers had busted their asses and greased it across the establishment to emerge and confront the drug-addled would-be thief.

They got the jar back and came back to express copious gratitude to yours truly, Citizen Steff.

I got EXTRA chicken on my burrito and a monster dollop of guacamole.

Honesty pays in crunchy flavourful bits of dead bird, it would seem. I, for one, do not object.

I am Steff, Citizen Steff, and honesty is my cause!