Bike Security (fiction)

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  The sign, hand-painted in childlike script, heeded the warning, "CURSED BY A POWERFUL WIZARD: IF YOU STEAL THIS BIKE YOU WILL HAVE BAD LUCK FOREVER!" I wrote it mostly as a joke to myself, a way of acknowledging my inability to stop thieves. My last two bikes got stolen, despite increasing security measures. In this neighborhood, nothing stored outside is safe.

  I wasn't surprised when the bike disappeared overnight. It was only a matter of time. I was surprised, however, when the thief brought it back. He clearly hadn't slept in days. His bloodshot eyes darted around as he pleaded with me to make it stop.

  "Make what stop?" I asked.
  "The curse, man. I'm sorry I took the bike, just uncurse me, please." He was out of breath. In some recess of my mind I wondered if the bike really did, coincidentally, have a curse.
  "Well it's not up to me. I'm not a wizard, but thanks for returning my bike, dude. You did the right thing."
  "This is some dark, twisted juju, man! You wouldn't believe the things that happened to me since I touched that bike."
  "Well, I did put up a sign."

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