If this rake could talk, it would beg: Pleeeease, return me to my owner.

And then it would ridicule: But you won't, will you? No. Know why? Because you're a bad person. You borrow stuff and don't give it back. The cooler, for instance. Gonna keep it forever? How about the blues CD you borrowed from Tim? The one you can't even find? Or the jazz CD that Yoram loaned you? Or the novel from Melissa? Or that book about the Mississippi Delta that, if I'm not mistaken, you borrowed four years ago? Or the one you borrowed four years before that was on, what was it … oh yes: procrastination?

If this rake could talk, I'd shoot it.

But it can't talk. And yet every time I pass by it, I hear it. Gonna take me back today? Huh? Are ya? You're not. I know you're not. Loser!

This makes me defensive. Yeah, well, it's not like I've never lost stuff to borrowers. Where's my first Led Zeppelin LP? Huh? Oh, and how 'bout my first drum set? It was in rough shape. There was a gash in the bass drum from a tumble down the basement stairs. But it was cool. Sparkly gold. Built in the '60s. I loaned it to a woman who said she intended to learn to play. When I asked about it some time later, she told me she loaned it to somebody else. LOANED A LOAN! At least I've never done that.

The rake is unmoved. Hey, on the road of life, people lose stuff. That doesn't justify you not returning something to someone.

Yeah? What do you know? You're a rake.