Eliza Hodgkins 1812
02-27-2005, 11:33 PM
Please don't ever do that again. You really scared the crap out of me. It was only 9:15 p.m. Far too early for lurking. You should still be at home hatching nefarious plots. You shouldn't be hiding in the spooky parking lot I walk by nearly every evening until long after midnight. I read that most crimes happen between the hours of 3 and 5 a.m. so, buddy, you were really, really early tonight, and as such, I was not expecting to be scared out of my wits by you. Thanks, a lot!
I don't usually walk anywhere without my walkman. Someone stole my new walkman from me on Friday when I stupidly left it sitting on a supermarket ATM machine. Two minutes later it had already been snatched away. The same evening I replaced it with the same walkman. $80. So if that is what you were after this evening, trust me when I say you would have had to have torn it from my cold, dead hands after killing me with whatever weapon you may have been carrying. No one is stealing my precious walkman from me ever, ever again.
And if what you were after was my money? Dude, I had $8 bucks on me. Just enough to get me a tall soy Chai latte from the ’Bucks and change. What could you have possibly bought with my 8 bucks? Two beers, maybe? A pack of smokes? A can of soda and some cheesy puffs? $8 hardly gets you a meal at McDonalds these days. Your take, for all your time and trouble, would not have been worth it.
Or maybe you were after my maidenhead? Buddy, that's LOOOOOONG gone. If it's virgins you're after, I suggest lurking in the spooky parking lots of Middle Earth where you probably couldn’t toss a rock without hitting a virtuous Elf princess or some beauty of Rohan. This here is Los Angeles, the Sodom and Gomorrah of the Unites States. I don’t even think virgins are born here anymore. And if it was just casual, tawdry sex you were after? Dude, no lurk and grab necessary. Just buy me a beer and tell me I smell of something nice, like honeysuckle, vanilla, or lily of the valley.
Not patchouli, though. I f**king hate patchouli.
What *were* you really doing lurking in that parking lot, anyway? Maybe you were just taking a leak, but if that were the case I’m pretty sure I would have seen the backs of your sneakers as you faced the wall, and not the front of your shoes as you stood their still and waiting for an innocent fawn to cross your wolfish path.
I thank the driver of whatever vehicle passed by us at that time, flooding the lot with light and alerting me to your presence. I actually started. You made me start! I felt rather than heard myself utter a quick “Jesus Christ” and then decided that I should probably run. A cop car was across the street, having just pulled over a driver. So I ran towards them and looked back to see you walking away from your hidey-hole. COWARD!
For some reason I didn’t bother the cops about you. After all, you really may have just been some dude in a dark space taking a pee, or talking to yourself, or communing with nature via a fleck of moss sprouting up from the concrete.
Whatever it is you were doing, whoever you are, just don’t do it again. I like feeling safe in my neighborhood, especially when it’s still as early as 9:15 p.m. I don’t want to feel pressured to carry around pepper spray or brass knuckles or throwing stars. I can’t afford to take classes in the sacred art of ninjitsu. So take a hike, pal. Find some other spooky parking lot to lurk in. I like my spooky parking lots lurker free.
Your friend who is concerned for your immortal soul (unless, of course, you really were just taking a leak),
Eliza Hodgkins 1812
I don't usually walk anywhere without my walkman. Someone stole my new walkman from me on Friday when I stupidly left it sitting on a supermarket ATM machine. Two minutes later it had already been snatched away. The same evening I replaced it with the same walkman. $80. So if that is what you were after this evening, trust me when I say you would have had to have torn it from my cold, dead hands after killing me with whatever weapon you may have been carrying. No one is stealing my precious walkman from me ever, ever again.
And if what you were after was my money? Dude, I had $8 bucks on me. Just enough to get me a tall soy Chai latte from the ’Bucks and change. What could you have possibly bought with my 8 bucks? Two beers, maybe? A pack of smokes? A can of soda and some cheesy puffs? $8 hardly gets you a meal at McDonalds these days. Your take, for all your time and trouble, would not have been worth it.
Or maybe you were after my maidenhead? Buddy, that's LOOOOOONG gone. If it's virgins you're after, I suggest lurking in the spooky parking lots of Middle Earth where you probably couldn’t toss a rock without hitting a virtuous Elf princess or some beauty of Rohan. This here is Los Angeles, the Sodom and Gomorrah of the Unites States. I don’t even think virgins are born here anymore. And if it was just casual, tawdry sex you were after? Dude, no lurk and grab necessary. Just buy me a beer and tell me I smell of something nice, like honeysuckle, vanilla, or lily of the valley.
Not patchouli, though. I f**king hate patchouli.
What *were* you really doing lurking in that parking lot, anyway? Maybe you were just taking a leak, but if that were the case I’m pretty sure I would have seen the backs of your sneakers as you faced the wall, and not the front of your shoes as you stood their still and waiting for an innocent fawn to cross your wolfish path.
I thank the driver of whatever vehicle passed by us at that time, flooding the lot with light and alerting me to your presence. I actually started. You made me start! I felt rather than heard myself utter a quick “Jesus Christ” and then decided that I should probably run. A cop car was across the street, having just pulled over a driver. So I ran towards them and looked back to see you walking away from your hidey-hole. COWARD!
For some reason I didn’t bother the cops about you. After all, you really may have just been some dude in a dark space taking a pee, or talking to yourself, or communing with nature via a fleck of moss sprouting up from the concrete.
Whatever it is you were doing, whoever you are, just don’t do it again. I like feeling safe in my neighborhood, especially when it’s still as early as 9:15 p.m. I don’t want to feel pressured to carry around pepper spray or brass knuckles or throwing stars. I can’t afford to take classes in the sacred art of ninjitsu. So take a hike, pal. Find some other spooky parking lot to lurk in. I like my spooky parking lots lurker free.
Your friend who is concerned for your immortal soul (unless, of course, you really were just taking a leak),
Eliza Hodgkins 1812