What is the World Coming To? (and other dangling prepositions)

So... I go into the trunk of my car tonight to get out some boxes. Wait... I need to go back further...

Back in July I agreed to to props for The Drama Workshop's Fall show "Lend Me a Tenor". I don't know exactly what prompted me, aside from wanting to be more involved than just showing up to act. Well... I've been collecting these props for about a month now, and keeping them in a box and a bag in the trunk of my car.

Every time I open my trunk I sort of inventory the props that I've already obtained, and I also check to make sure nothing's been damaged by my insane driving.

So... I go into the trunk of my car tonight to get out some boxes. I take the boxes out and, because it's dark, I glance quickly in and start to turn away. Then I realize what I'd just seen...or rather...what I'd just NOT seen. The props are all gone. I ask the Tofu Muchacha if she'd moved them.

"No."

I ask the Tofu Muchacha if she remembered me moving them into the backseat for some reason (already knowing the answer).

"No."

So that pretty much leaves only one actuality here... My fucking car was violated. Sodomized. Raped.

I've been robbed before. I'd actually put 3 separate CD players into my old Dodge (Simon the Silver). For some reason, this one feels worse, because like... those had all been on a street, or in the parking lot of my apartment complex. This one was in a driveway. Meaning that the bastards had to go onto private property to do it.

Oh...and also... stealing a CD Player is logical. They have some (if minor) value on the black market. I can't, however, even see the point in sifting through my trunk (oh yes... there were things left, so they took their time to fucking shop) and stealing, among other things a 1930s era radio that doesn't work at all. An old telephone. Some glasses. Oh..and my Disney Villains bath towel that happened to be in there. The mother fuckers.

I hope they die.

There's just no point to it. I hope they fucking enjoy the 19 dollars worth of shit they stole from me, because let's be honest... if your life is at the place where a broken vintage radio is the last thing between you and blowing old men for crack money...well... I guess you needed it more than Tito Merelli.

At least they didn't steal my Blue Ash Idol trophy. That would have really bummed me out.