We Steal a Gods Motorcycle and Almost Die

Connor Stoll

I'd always been a bit obsessed with motorcycles. Probably because Dad is the god of traveling. But he was also god of thieves, which led to what happened next….

We were in the parking lot at Walmart, just standing by the cart holder thing and watching all the cars go by. Our mom had kicked us out of the house after one of her drunk rants. She'd just gotten out of jail for stealing someone's Cadillac, so we were pretty used to not being around her anyway.

"I'm bored," Travis said to me, spitting on the ground and rubbing it around with the tip of his open-sole Converse.

"Yeah, me too. We need to do something interesting," I said back. Travis and I loved to get in trouble. We'd stolen all kinds of things: TV's, cars, money, even a poodle once. I was itching to steal something else.

"Interesting? I can do interesting," Travis said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Just then a motorcycle came roaring up the parking lot. It was a black Harley Davidson with flames painted along the sides. The seat was made of something that looked like leather, but instead of being black, it was a light color, kind of like skin. There was a shotgun holster on either side of the motorcycle. I had to have it.

I guess the glint in my eyes was a bit too noticeable, because when the motorcycle parked next to Travis and me, the man riding it gave me a look and growled, "What are you looking at, punk?"

"Your motorcycle," I said sheepishly.

"And why would you do that?" he asked. He was a scary looking guy, very big and tall. He was wearing all black- combat boots, muscle shirt, and vest. He had these weird black sunglasses on, that seemed to have something red glowing behind them. There was something about this guy that screamed "murder." It scared me, but not enough to not want to steal that motorcycle.

"It's cool," I answered.

"Yeah it is, but don't get any ideas, punk. You look like someone I know who likes to steal things," he said, giving Travis and I the stare-down. Creepy.

"Oh, no, we don't steal things," said Travis surely, without a hint of lying in his voice.

"Yeah, we aren't bad kids," I added.

"Sure, sure. Just don't touch it," he snarled, stalking off to Walmart to buy God knows what.

As soon as he was out of range, I turned to Travis and said-

"We're going to steal it, right?"

"You bet!" Travis exclaimed, hopping onto the cycle and turning it into gear. The motor started to run. "Hop on!"

I got on, and off we took. We rode through the streets, weaving in and out of the cars and going as fast as possible. But the fun didn't last forever.

Suddenly this weird cart-thing showed up behind us, chasing us. It was being pulled by a huge white stallion. Even for New York, this was weird.

"ARES!" the man aboard the chariot screamed at us. He thought we were the man we'd stolen the motorcycle from.

"Travis, what do we do?" I screamed to Travis.

"I don't know!"

We just kept going, still being chased. But the man on the chariot finally caught up with us. He leapt onto the motorcycle and pulled a long stick with snakes wrapped around it out.

"Thought you'd fool me, Ares?" he laughed, until he realized that Travis and I weren't this Ares guy. "Hey! You're not Ares…."

"I know," I said.

All of a sudden we were flying through the air. Travis had lost control of the cycle and we were flying off of the Alexander Hamilton Bridge and into the Harlem River. I thought we were going to die.

Right before we hit the water, the man from the chariot grabbed a hold of us and we were gone, back in the parking lot at Walmart. The man had disappeared.

We ran as fast as we could so we could get away before the Ares guy came back and murdered us.

That was an interesting day, and the first of many others.