To The Man Who Stole My Wife's Underwear

You are a chikan, a shitagi dorobou.

I'm going to take your picture and make a lot of copies and distribute them all over the neighborhood and all over town and if I'm feeling kind I might even give one to the police.

I don't know when you visited us, as we had our laundry hanging out to dry from Sunday afternoon until Tuesday due to the humidity, but it doesn't matter. Last night we became suddenly aware of your existence.

Are you the same guy who stole one of the kindergarten teachers' underwear from her clothesline two weeks ago?

You can't see our clothesline from the street. You can't see that there are clothes hanging out to dry even when you pull up in a car and walk to our front door. And even if you see that there are clothes hanging up you have to look very closely to see that there is women's underwear hidden between my three-pairs-for-ten-bucks Hawaiian print underpants.

So you have experience in this sort of thing. You know where to look and I'm guessing you knew there was a young woman living here who wears underwear and sometimes washes it.

There were other nice things hanging on the line. Towels, shirts, socks and other types of ladies undergarments.

But out of everything hanging there you zeroed in on four pairs of underwear.

Nothing more.

I'd have been happier if you'd just opened our unlocked door and left with the VCR.

But that's not your style.

So rest assured that I am after you. And I'm carrying a digital camera. And I like walkin'. And I'm patient.

I'd put more of my wife's underwear out to lure you back, but you won't come back. I already know that.

But you will strike again.

More than once.

And when you do be ready to say "Cheese."