George was a kleptomaniac by choice. He also had a degree in ikebana and a tenure in the supermarket’s aisle five. It was just like the Chanel fragrance by the same number but smelled of detergent and baby wipes and wasn’t much fun.

Sometimes he would leave his post to go and do what he called “a little exploring” but a normal person would call thieving. It was petty grade lawbreaking most of the time – a roll of toilet paper here, pair of eggs there, a pickle, maybe some tomatoes, and once an umbrella, but today George was about to explore a certain piece of electronic equipment.

Salivating, he ogled the Blu-ray players shelf, his jaw slack, his mind projecting an idyllic picture of the equipment sitting under his telly, a maniacal grin plastered over George’s face, the remote in hand. He felt an arousing rustling in his nether regions.

George coughed noncommittally to shake off the excitement, and got to the job. He undid the belt on his work jeggings and, after pulling the display model out of the shelf, started stuffing it into his trousers. The stretchy fabric did not oppose the least and soon the rectangular shape player was packed in safe and sound, the electrical cord running down his leg on the inside. The belt was less forgiving than his fake jeans and ran five inches short. Without the belt the player would topple out. George panicked a sweaty pause, then got a light bulb moment, and started awkwardly shuffling towards aisle five.

Leaning against the shelves to keep the player in his trousers, George tore at the plastic package with floss in it, but the package refused to cave. An attempt to rip it open with his teeth sent a jolt of pain throughout his body as his canines refused to take any more abuse. George whimpered and, holding his trousers with one hand and floss with the other, aimed for aisle eleven.

Upon reaching the office supply section of aisle eleven, George found all of the scissors to be blissfully laminated in their protective casing as well. He mumbled out a curse, but then noticed the bundles of brownpaper package strings to his right. His eyes gleaming in determination, he tossed the package of floss on the ground and ran to the string bundles in tiny steps, almost as if something in his trousers would be obstructing his gait. All this moving was making him tired.

He ran the string five times around his body to make sure it wouldn’t snap, and then, after tying up a knot, found himself unable to get rid of the rest of the paper string. The damn thing seemed to have been made out of kevlar. Scared of more pain, he did not risk to try and use his teeth again. This day was not going too well for George. In the end, he sighed and stuffed the remains of the string in his underpants. It wasn’t very comfortable but gave him a certain feeling of manliness.

Just about as George was about to exit the superstore, the power cord, resting in the leg of his trousers, became loose, and the plug fell out, dangling freely at his foot. On his next step the foot met the plug and, feeling the incoming pain, sheepishly skidded away from the danger. George fell face first like the most ancient freshly chopped tree, with his hands, equally sheepishly, at his sides. His body took the grunt of the impact, the Blu-ray player embedding itself deep into George’s body, punching his breath out.

George wasn’t sure for how long he had been out but it couldn’t have been too long as nobody was taking note of him. He wriggled for a second till he managed to roll on his back. There were tears in his eyes. Sobbing, he pushed himself up, then pulled the cord back into his trousers and, without saying a word, limped out of the superstore.