I’m assuming you didn’t happen to order a subscription to the Times at the exact moment I did. I’m also going to go ahead and assume that if you read the paper on the regular you’re smart enough to know that these sorts of things don’t just appear on doorsteps like unwanted babies and Mormons.
You stole my papers. Who does that? I was willing to sacrifice a paper or two now and again due to the fact that I don’t have my own private doorstep for it to be thrown onto. But you took every paper. Every single paper.
Listen, I don’t have time in the morning to actually read them. Mornings are reserved exclusively for my snooze button. So you were welcome to exert your literacy all over them from the moment they hit the door step, to the moment I got home from work around five o’clock. You could’ve just re-delivered it to the communal table, neatly refolded with the crossword un-filled-out.
But you kept them, like a thieving little hoarder. I bet you even used pen on the crossword.