I’ll elaborate on the story a little. It’s a dramatic tale.
Back in peak Pokémania, the childhood ethics were highly questionable. At least in my school district, and I know this to be true in many other places as well, having desirable Pokémon cards made you both popular and a target. You could not let your cards out of your sight or you would lose them from some pilfering sneak thief who got in and out without a trace. Once a card got out of someone’s binder and in to yours, who is to say it wasn’t always yours? Parents didn’t know any better. The language of Pokémon was incomprehensible. Pokémon made kids in to little gangsters.
There was one boy in my school, who I will call Samuel, who had incredible luck and equal acuity when it came to obtaining Pokémon cards. He had four Charizards. This was an unbelievable feat - nobody had four Charizards. Most people did not even have one Charizard. People looked upon him with incredible envy and resentment, but also could not resist the opportunity to gaze upon such unlikelihood manifest. He brought his cards with him everywhere to daze any onlooker who requested audience with his cards.
We were at a League event and I had already resolved to steal one of his Charizards. I was convinced that I would never obtain one any other way. He had four of them. He could afford to lose one. The toy store did not have a formal event area and kids mostly just hung around in the corner of the store, sitting on the floor around displays and shelving. It provided a lot of surfaces of varying height and a lot of cover. It was a great opportunity to steal from your fellow children.
But I was so nervous. I was terrified of getting caught. I just kept casing the joint, watching Samuel and where he placed his binder and when his attention was taken. I’d look over my shoulder, watch as people came and went - especially adults. I spent what felt like hours psyching myself up - but it was probably like 20 minutes. Little kid time is different.
Anyway, all of a sudden the regular murmur of kids in play is broken by the sound of Samuel shouting. Someone had stolen his Charizards - and it wasn’t even me. He started by asking people around him who took it as if someone would know or confess, and as people shook their heads and backed away from the increasingly hysterical child he stopped being able to form words. His arms just went slack and he let his binder hang upside down in his hands as cards started to empty out of the sleeves onto the floor. He was crying so hard he could not speak or breathe.
A store employee and the store manager came to scene and demanded whoever took the cards to fess up. They lectured about honesty, about all being here to have fun, and the importance of trust. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything at all. They said if whoever stole the cards didn’t come forward, they would not host the League at all anymore. Again, nobody spoke up. I remember feeling extremely scared and guilty that I was going to be in trouble even though I wasn’t the one who did it. I worried that just the intention of wrongdoing, which was locked away in my mind, would somehow surface and I’d be pegged for what happened.
Tension was really, really high. You could tell everybody was scared and upset. Someone else suddenly spoke up and said they were missing cards too. This made everyone afraid they had been robbed and the attention started to shift from Samuel entirely as people investigated their own binders and decks to make sure they hadn’t lost anything. Some kids still stayed frozen in place waiting to hear what kind of trouble they were in.
After another minute or so the manager resigned to the fact nobody was going to confess and just told Samuel they were sorry. Samuel started sobbing and hyperventilating and then, very abruptly, threw up all over himself and his cards on the floor. This caused everyone to react in shock, and another kid with a weak stomach threw up in response. Someone else, apparently too overwhelmed by the chaos, followed suit. It was unbelievable.
As kids emptied out of the store and parents started showing up to intervene, the store manager told Samuel how sorry they were and gave him a bunch of booster packs on the house. He tearfully opened the packs and, sure enough, pulled another Charizard. In that moment, I never hated anyone more.
If I did, it’s with my childhood collection that got sold by my parents years ago 
