By Anthony Bernardi
Infiltrating a criminal ring was a lot easier than I thought it would be. The task only required me to consume substances which could very well be used as a substitute for gasoline and spout movie quotes from the undisputable classic era of film from the 1990s.
I was a raving loon amongst an inebriated crowd of maniacs, tearing from location to location, surviving the social jungle like some sort of colorful peacock while the feral beasts all around me ripped and tore at each others flesh in a savage feeding frenzy of binge drinking.
I feared soon enough these incoherent animals would turn against me. The smorgasbord of students on one king hell of a rampage all shared the same driving intention: get to the nearest place of immoral activity as quickly as possible once they had overdosed on inappropriate statements and awkward pauses at their current location. It was unlike any reign of terror I had ever witnessed before, beautiful in the outright vulgar disregard for reality, but a scene growing overwhelmingly ugly with every action.
The fast-paced nonsense wouldn’t be stopped by mere distance between venues. Like a wave of locusts, every unlocked bike between start and finish was forced into labor. The considerately bent group of misfits recklessly flew down side streets, violently abandoning their newly acquired vehicles in heavily wooded areas, large ditches, front lawns and parking lots as their staggered formation barraged the next scene.
Bike theft is a problem in Marquette. Registered or not, bikes are disappearing in large quantities and are very rarely ever recovered. Besides commissioning a couple of Apache attack helicopters to patrol the Marquette skyline, turning would-be bike thieves into smoking craters, there isn’t much law enforcement can do about these crimes.
Unlucky victims all over the area are finding their bikes completely vanished after a busy weekend. Even bikes with the most steadfast locks have been raided for detachable parts.
Although I witnessed multitudes of these thefts during my time trailing these thieving punks, I cannot positively identify any single perpetrator. I needn’t tell you my mental stability at the time was thrown to the point that bystanders appeared with the disposition of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”. My inability to recall specifics isn’t to say I approve of these dirty crimes. I definitely do not in any manner, so might I add the listening devices law enforcement has planted in my smoke alarm can be deactivated and retrieved. The compliment of agents who have camped in the neighboring room can cease their stake out operations and go home. No immoral activities of this loathsome variety have ever crossed my mind.
The very thought of treacherous students committing crimes of this nature works up a venomous rage within me that can only be quelled by rigid pacing and the violent pummeling of any object within hands reach. To think our fellow comrades would rip one another off without a second thought is a disgusting. The time has long passed to simply leave this problem to the authorities. Citizens of Marquette must do what they can in tandem with police in order to head off this increasingly more frequent misconduct.
Any information leading to the recovery of stolen bikes and the apprehension of these evil individuals should be scrupulously pursued by all good hearted Americans so that these perpetrators taste the bitter consequences of their selfish pursuits.
And while I may condone a citizens’ justice in response to these actions, such as chaining the criminal to the stolen property and forcing them to bare its weight for a minimum period of a month, it may be seen as unlawful and therefore should only be undertaken if the possible repercussions are understood.
Nonetheless, any relevant information should be taken to the proper authorities. It’s time to put a stop to bike thieves in Marquette. One man’s shortcut to the next drunken debacle could be another man’s only form of transportation.
The next time you see a poor bystander struggling under the weight of three stainless steel chain laden road bikes, I implore you to heckle the crooked freak. That’ll teach them for messing with the wrong North Wind writer.