Al Capone’s Suitcase
What makes an object an important object? I’m not sure because I don’t even know if I was an important object, I don’t think I was because I’m currently sitting in what I believe to be a land fill because I’m surrounded by other “useless” item and stinky things; things that were thrown to the earth like they mean nothing. In my “prime” of life I sat on a shelf of a store in Chicago, I was one day picked off that shelf by a man named Al, I thought he would have me carry items like papers because that was what I was made for, I was picked because I was made of a nice dark leather. When Al picked me up his name was cut into my nice metal label. I wasn’t carrying papers and files, I carried many different things. I carried bottles and weapons most of the time when he first got me, later on in life when my leather had some age to it I got to carry papers but they always had a green print on them, it was as they called it “money.” Al had treated me good unlike some people, in the beginning things were calm, I met a lot of people and they always said I was a good looking traveler’s case and wanted to know where I was from. Toward the end it did not matter where I came from just that I did my job. When it came to women Al had seen a lot of them, and so had I because I was always with Al, everywhere he went I went. We went to places where the lights were bright and the music was loud and the ladies always wanted to talk to Al and his friends. Al enjoyed the ladies chasing him, I could always tell it made him feel empowered, what Al hated the most but also chased the most was beautiful blonde haired women that had no interest in him. It only happened a couple times. There was this one time that he had came across a women on the road that he must have liked a lot, he had waited not a beat to go right up to her and try to get her to go out on a date, but she refused and I could tell he was going to be persistent on the subject and he tried for a good...
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