Today, that old man you tied to a chair and burglarized will leave you his all his earthly possessions..

Magnanimous, the old bastard was.

Today a lawyer is going to come to your house and read you the will of that lonely old guy you robbed six years ago, the one who came into the bedroom while you were rooting through his dresser drawers and scoping out the jewelry situation. You tied him up and he started talking a mile a minute while you were there. He asked you all sorts of questions about the modern world and you answered him honestly from your street-smart point of view. He found your candor refreshing and he talked on and on, not even seeming to mind that you were upending his bedroom, just as long as you continued to engage him. Before you left, he called you a wise and honest young man and he thanked you for your time. Then you stuffed one of his socks in his mouth, shoved the chair he was tied to over on its side, and took off. You were never caught.

The lawyer will read, ‘To the straight shooter who robbed me six years ago and was more honest and direct with me than all the yes-man assistants I have ever employed, and who was far more endearing than anyone in that terrible family I failed to raise, and who in my final years gave me a glimpse of what it is to truly grasp and grab for an existence, I leave everything.’

You’ll jump up and down, waking your baby. Unfortunately, the family will contest the will for years and years. You’ll be front page news for a very long time with everyone wanting to know what you and the old man talked about. You’ll keep it to yourself until you’re given a huge deal to write a book called, ‘The Old Man and The Burglar.’ You’ll recreate the night in that book, throwing in lots of fabricated details about you telling the old man what it’s like to grow up in the projects and the old man teaching you about the sacrifice people like him made for their country during World War II. You’ll write scenes in which you and the old man cry together, and one scene where you even share a lingering kiss on the lips, your tears intermingling for the briefest of moments.

Your memoir of the old man and the burglar will be a huge hit, and you’ll be glad you chose not to tell the real story about how the old man only asked questions about whether modern girls were taking it ‘in the pooper’ and how long it took before they let you ‘put in the pooper’ and whether ‘the pooper’ feels as good as he’d always dreamed it would those 91 years he spent on this Earth.

Print the legend.