The relief (aka) The demise of the sweet thief

I wasn't always the age I am today. When I was smaller there was a guy who lived around the corner who would take sweets from me and my friends when we walked by him. This went on for a considerable amount of time until I decided it was time for it to stop. As far back as I can remember, I could always step back from a situation and look at it from a different angle. I was coming back from the shops one very hot day with a can of lemon juice when I saw the sweet thief at the end of the road. This was as good a time as ever to put him in his place and I had the upper hand as I had seen him and he hadn't seen me yet. I tuned around and walked towards the church. When there was nobody within sight I emptied the contents of the can onto the ground and and rather than visit the toilet to relieve myself, I used the empty can as a portable toilet. I felt instantly better. I next walked towards the sweet thief with my enticing can of juice. It didn't take him long to distance my grinning self from the can and in one swift movement he gulped down the non-soothing steaming liquid. Watching his expression change from content sweet thief to a consumer of a byproduct of my liver was the first time I experienced total contentment. If I am ever to achieve such a heightened state of nirvana again, I will be truly blessed. For that solitary brief moment, all the wrongs and injustices of the world were put right. If the sun hadn't already been shining, it would have appeared and whisked me off to a chocolate factory. Instead, reality paid a visit and I realised I had to run away from sweet thief and swiftly. Looking back now, I realised it was adrenaline and fear which made me run so fast and escape the irate ensuer whose thirst for juice had been quenched in a way which did not appeal to him but pacified me immensely. The next day I bumped into him and cut a deal that meant I would not breathe a word of the event to anyone in return for allowing me to keep my sweets and sweet nectar from that moment on. All's well that ends well. How are things with you these days, Phil?