It was a matter of couples of seconds. Indeed, within such a short time, not even enough for the minute hand to run a circle, a shameless theif had performed his prefession amazing well. In the very beginning, I was taken aback to find my striped, folding umbrella was gone! Soon, my surprise turned into a series of mental curses, clenching fists, wrath-shooting eyes, and searching steps around. However, the darn son of a gun (already an euphemism) was nowhere to be found. Only the forlorn hope that he must have been run over somewhere else to the hell could comfort my anger a bit; even so, that was merely a slap-on-the-wrist punishment. What I desired fiercely in my mind was my itchy fists peppering on his (not possibly "her"?!) brazen face, as well as the dismembering of his sinful hands. --

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