Farting helplessly with fear, I rushed from the scene of the crime. Perhaps they won’t catch me for it, I say to myself, full of desperate hope. Even though I know very well that they always do. Even though I know very well that they absolutely always do. Perhaps – I say to myself – they won’t know that it was me that did it. Even though they always do know.
You know that thing I’m sure, that thing where you do a very bad thing and then immediately become terrified that you’ll be found out. Run, run, run – run from the scene of the crime. Run as you have never run before. You might just make it, there is always a chance. Panic flight, that’s what they call it, isn’t it. I used to be the kind of guy everyone wanted to know; I used to be the kind of guy everyone liked on sight. You might think I’m joking, you might think that I’m trying to be funny. Funny ha ha. Funny like fun-time in the circus. Funny like fun-time in the human zoo. But no, I’m being straight up. I was that guy so you can imagine how much it hurts for me to be the way that I am now. Rushing from the scene of the crime, rushing as fast as is humanly possible from the scene of the crime. Hoping that I won’t be spotted.
The news of the crime travels fast faster than I can however – my infamy precedes me. My terrible terrible infamy. The crime was too great you see, it was much too big. I never meant for that to happen, I promise you, I never intended for it to be that big; I never intended for it to be big enough to be the Ultimate Mind Crime. When you are first in prison, or you have been transferred somewhere new, everyone always asks you ‘What are you in for mate?’ Everyone wants to know you see. People are of course very interested. That’s just the way it is. People always want to know. So you say this or you say that and that’s fine. Usually, that is. It’s not fine if you own up to being a nonce, or if you look like a nonce. No one likes a nonce, obviously. So if you are a nonce then you naturally wouldn’t mention the fact, you’d say that you’re in for aggravated burglary or dipping or embezzlement or kiting or the possession and supply of Class A drugs or something like that and then that’ll be fine. Or whatever. You know what I’m trying to say. It’s not rocket science.
When it’s the Ultimate Mind Crime you’re talking about then that’s a very different matter however. You can’t believe how different that is. It’s another world. Regular law enforcement has nothing to do with this kind of situation, it really doesn’t come into it. So it’s not the police you have to worry about, in other words. You don’t have to worry about them at all. So that’s a relief, right? Wrong my friend, wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. That’s the most wrong you could ever be. They’re talking about you all over the world. Everyone instantaneously knows what you did – that’s how bad it is. Your guilt is transmitted instantaneously. There isn’t anyone on the planet doesn’t know what you did – people know and they’re very, very angry with you.
Running down the street, farting with fear, farting helplessly with terror. You don’t care how stupid you look – you’re way past that. Perhaps no one will notice I say to myself. Perhaps I will get away with it. Part of me is wishing I could have just committed an ordinary crime of course and that I could be on my way to prison, looking forward to serving a nice long sentence. I’m overcome with nostalgia and I’m blubbering uncontrollably; I’m wishing that I could just be a normal criminal like all the rest. Making your career work for you, I tell myself. Making all the right choices. Making sure you stay in control of the narrative. Thinking about all of the normal happy people leading normal happy lives. Realizing how lucky they are, although they themselves don’t know it. Hoping that no one will realise that it was me that did it.
