Scratching Post - by D. J. Kirkbride

Many former inmates, having learned and often, in a way, thrived in the 'big house' have problems remembering how to cope with life on the other side of the iron bars. Such is the case of the Hamburglar, recently paroled after serving twenty of a forty-five-year sentence, gaining early release on good behavior. The 'incident,' as he now calls it at the suggestion of his prison therapist, that put him away was meant to be nothing more than a standard hamburger snatch and grab. Through a bit of misfortune, though, it tragically resulted in the death of a Fry Guy. The blue one.

Remorseful and forlorn, Hamburglar found the strength to carry on while in prison through frequent visits from Grimace, a friend throughout and no stranger to brushes with the law himself after his constant genitalialess yet still troubling public nudity caused something of a media uproar a few years back. He also had occasional correspondence with his former girlfriend, Birdie, who, though now married to a accountant from Iowa, remained a loyal friend. He never heard from any other of his old McDonaldland pals, most notably Ronald himself, whose cold shoulder hit Hamburglar the hardest. The remorse over the Fry Guy's death was multiplied when thinking of his lost friend, who refused to return calls or letters. Despite this, strength was found in Hamburglar's conviction to turning his life around as well as embracing the nation of Islam.

As he exits the prison, two decades of soap dropping fear, doing what he needed in order to survive, now on a full pardon from Mayor McCheese himself, no one is there to pick the Hamburglar up. Out of his state issued orange jump suit, wearing his old black and white striped pantsuit they'd also kept locked away when he arrived broken and in shackles, now uncomfortably tight over his bulging, rock hard pectorals formed over years of exhausting free weights, Hamburglar is apprehensive. Like so many inmates before him faced with the uncertainties of returning to free society, part of him wants nothing more than to return to his old, familiar cell.

He's far from the carefree young hooligan he once was, certainly more mindful of his hamburger cravings... no meat patty is worth taking someone's life. And no amount of good natured 'Robble, robble' will get you anywhere in a court of law. For the Hamburglar, his time served has changed him to his very core. Though his fame and generous McDonald's paychecks are gone, having been told he had no home there upon his release, he can't be angry. He understands that they've had to distance themselves from more media scandal. Even if they would have taken him back, he'd decline, having become a vegetarian during his incarceration. Even his name seems inaccurate now.

Shuffling to the bust stop, state issued ticket in hand, eyes adjusting to the daylight, Hamburglar feels panic in his burgerless gut. He doesn't know why he swung his knife so close to that Fry Guy, whose only trespass was carrying a heat lamp fresh hamburger home from a commercial shoot. He only meant to scare the little blue fella and had no idea the guy was a bleeder.

Water under the bridge now. The Hamburglar knows to accept his past and turn to his future... a free man once again.

D.J. Kirkbride has written for a vast number of publications and can be found at www.purelard.net.