Charlie Chaplin once told this story:
“One day, while riding the New York subway, I came home and found a gold watch in my pocket. I had no idea how it got there. Thinking it must’ve been a mistake, I decided to turn it in to the police.
The next day, I received a letter that read:
‘Dear Mr. Chaplin,
I’m a pr*fessi*nal pickpocket. Yesterday, I st*le a gold watch from a gentleman on the subway. But when I realized who you were, I decided to make it a gift and slipped it into your pocket instead.’
A year went by. The police never found the th*ef — nor the watch’s rightful owner — so they eventually returned the watch to me.
The story made the newspapers, and some time later I got another letter:
‘Dear Mr. Chaplin,
A year ago, I was on the subway when my gold watch was st*len. I read in the papers that a p*ckp*cket had gifted it to you. Please keep the watch, Mr. Chaplin. I’m as much an admirer of your incredible talent as that th*ef must’ve been. I’m also sending you a gold chain to go with it.’”
A perfectly Chaplinesque tale — where even cr*me found a sense of humor and grace.
