I'll be dubbed the "Ball Bearing Bandit" by channel 8 news. I'll steal every ball bearing in upstate New York. Over holiday dinner, families will talk about how the Ball Bearing Bandit struck again and nervously toss back eggnog, wondering if the ball bearings they left at home are still safe and for how long.
What will I do with my bearings? I'll sell them to a European fence whose real name I'll never know but everyone calls Ferret. Ferret will give me 30%, which is good for a European fence.
They'll call in a sketch artist who will depict me in the requisite hooded sweatshirt and oversized glasses. Sightings of me will be reported as far away as Tuscon. I'll lay low for eight months, and then strike in a remote part of West Virginia.
The FBI will call me in for questioning. But I'll play it cool. I'll tell them they've got nothing on me, and demand to see my attorney. They will be forced to let me go.
A court order will be signed. My phone will be tapped. I will complain to Aunt Ginny that the FBI is incompetent. An agent will give himself away by breaking into the call, "no, we're not."
The investigation will continue. I will be named a "person of interest" in a string of ball bearing heists near the Jersey state line. I will be hounded by local press. Subsequently, I will be hounded by national and international press.
Soon, I'll inspire other criminals. Ones who steal allan wrenches and 1/4 inch ratchet bits. In turn, they will inspire criminals with even greater daring. Cinder blocks will disappear. Then bulldozers.