Gerald Tiperino was not a big tipper, little tipper, or any kind in between. He was a petty thief who kept his money in his back-pants pocket.
One might assume he was upset when it escaped through a hole. He was, angry as a stepped-on rattler. Disinterested in fine points of law, he made a quick arrest, no trial, no lawyers, no innocent until proven guilty, no last words. He went straight to sentencing.
“May the Lord have mercy on your soul.”
He used two clothespins; they grabbed like crocodiles.
It was over in a moment.
Tiperino hung his pants.
