Two weeks ago, somebody broke into my old house and stole stuff. Including an ancient video camera with 6 mini-cassette tapes in the camera bag. I dont care about the stereo they heaved out through the window or even the video camera. What I am cut to ribbons by is the loss of the tapes. (And no, NOT because they contain Paris Hiltonraunchy sex acts) On those tapes are 8 years worth of kid’s birthday parties and holidays to NZ. Things like a 2 yr old Princess dancing her version of Swan Lake in a pink tutu ( bought for 2 tala from Big Bear). And a 6 yr old JB looking aggrieved when a fiesty duck bites his fingers at Auckland Domain while he’s trying to feed it bread. And a SD stuffing stale bread in HIS mouth instead of the ducks…you get the picture…on those tapes are memories. Tapes i wanted to watch when I turn 60 and my kids are all well-adjusted adults (and hopefully filthy rich and showering me with financial love…) Anyway, we tried offering a cash reward for their return. No Luck. So as i bid farewell to my video memories, I send out a curse ( in the worthy tradition of Shakespeare who really was the maestro of throwing out curses…who can forget… ‘a plague on both your houses!’)
TO THE PERSON OR PERSONS WHO STOLE MY VIDEO TAPES.
*May centipedes crawl into your secret places and bite you. Viciously.
*May millipedes snuggle in your ears when you sleep and burrow into your brain. Eagerly.
*May cockroaches fly into your hair. And crawl with ragged feet over your face.
*May your car run over a nail and have a flat tyre. On a deserted road halfway up Le Mafa Pass. And may you realize belatedly that you have no jack. No spare. No money. And then while you’re standing beside your flat tyre car, may a rabid dog run out of the bushes and bite you. Repeatedly.
*May the next can of elegi you open be full of wriggling worms. Only you don’t notice them until you’ve already eaten half of it.
*May your garden be overrun with African snails. And vaofefe. And poohing dogs. And Justin Bieber lookalikes.
*May your neighbors have lots of wild, noisy parties. With boom boxes. And drunken masses. And brawling men. And riotous teenagers. And smashing glasses. And wafting clouds of dope smoke. And you’re never invited. Ever. And when you call the police to report the fracas next door, may they joyously join them. And never invite you. Ever. Sniff sniff.
*May the next taxi you ride in, run out of petrol. And then expect you to pay for more gas.
*May an iron scorch your Sunday whites. And all your buttons fall off. And all your lavalavas be full of unmendable holes.
*May there be giant bear traps set for robbers in the next house you break into – SNAP! Arrrrgh ! HAHAHA! What’s that noise? It’s the sound of your leg being chomped in half and me laughing evilly as I take photos of your pain to paste on ‘Samoa’s Most Wanted’.
*May it rain on all your parades. And shower on all your picnics. Storm on all your birthdays. And may everything you’ve ever wanted – never be on sale. Ever.
*May your worst enemy win the Lotto. And Star Search. And be pursued by hordes of adoring fans. And lose 50 pounds. And Scratch and win a Sevens Player with Digicel. And marry the Rock. Or Angelina Jolie ( that is – if Angie ever loses her mind and divorces Brad.) So you can be riddled with envy. Paralyzed with covetousness. Smothered in dissatisfaction. And then drown in jealous misery.
*May you get struck by lightning, left in a coma and then wake up a week later a completely changed person who is driven by a desire to return everything they have ever stolen. And apologize by scrubbing people’s floors. Profusely.
And finally and most beseechingly, may something incredibly precious and beloved by you GET STOLEN. So you can feel what it’s like. And never ever do it again.