My First Stalker
Let me begin by setting the stage for those unfamiliar with how I justify my thug; I currently work at a privately owned pharmacy where often enough I deliver prescriptions to those either too retarded, disabled, or both to come to this pharmacy and pick up their prescription and receive basic advice such as, "mam, you do understand that consuming 12 or more of these at one time will kill you", and "sir, I'm sorry but we cannot legally provide you with 1000 pills this month so you won't need to refill until 2007." Well, there is one government subsidized apartment complex that especially houses the crazy. Immiediately upon reaching the locked doors, you are greeted by a little monkey man that will ask you your business, unlock the door, and provide you with a pixi stick (only has grape... fucker.)
Think-for-yourselfer that keeps all cherry pixi sticks.
Now, inside you will not see more freaky fucking shit than what is hung up on the doors. Mind you, these are the forgotten, bastard elderly that we only talk about "how well they're doing" on the holidays. For instance, outside this one door you have a 1000 piece puzzle of a giant blue jay lacking only the two puzzle pieces where the birds eyes would belong hanging on the wall. Back to the stalker, her particular door was adorned with a friendly door-bell duct-taped to the middle of the door with the message "YOUSE THE DOORBELL" carved into the wall. I would have brought a camera and captured this image, however I fear monkey man would have no part of it. Upon pressing the doorbell, the mid 40's stalker proclaims, "come in, it's unlocked." I try the door, and it's locked. Immiediately, she replies, "like I trust you... yet." and she lets me in. I do the normal routine (hand her the prescription along with generic advice) and have her sign her bill with your ordinary bic pen. After she signs it, she extends her hand out as if to give me the pen back, then quickly recoils pen in hand and asks me to leave. I think to myself "fuck the pen" and let myself out shutting the door behind me. After just one step, she asks in an Adam Sandler in his Little Nikki voice, "don't you want your pen?" , "nah, you keep it.", "I INSIST, IT'S YOUR GOD DAMNED PEN." So, I walk back, notice the door is open, and take a few steps in. Without seeing her anywhere, she says, "your pen is on the table mr. pharmacist." I grab the pen and immiediately walk out noting the fact that I see about 27 Barbies still in the original packaging, when I'm halted once again as she says, "what if I have any complications. Won't you leave your contact information on the tab next to the pen." I'm thinking fuck it, whatever I can do that will get me the hell out of here, so I scribble my name and cell number, and get the hell out of there without even saying thanks to the aforementioned monkey man.
This all happened 3 days back, so I haven't thought much of it, until I get home today and received one bizarre fucking cardboard box addressed to "Mr. Pharmacist". Immiediately, I know who this shit is from and become nervous, so I carefully go about opening the package and find an assortment of gift wrapped presents, none of which were ticking so I proceed with caution.
First, we have:
It's a hand made journal with googly eyes pasted to some strange photo and the caption sassy. This was by far the least insane thing in the parcel. There were also two K-mart bags, one labeled "Frankincense" and the other labeled "Spanish Gold", both filled with sand.
Then there was a CD, which inside was I kid you not the Top Gun Soundtrack, but with the cover of:
Okay, so we know she is insane. That's been established. There was also a one act play written on notebook paper that was about her and her dad being in some crappy dollar story in a shitty mall and her finding panties and buying them. But I'll get back to that in a minute.
I was also sent a tin full of homemade cookies (note - not a tin full of Danish Buttermilk Cookies which are a fucking dominating presence.) The tin was covered with marker messages and inside, on top of the cookies, was the following note on a small card:
Each cookie was individually wrapped in plastic, though one particular baked good caught my attention.
Getting back to those panties, in a wet ziplock bag I found this:
In explanation, there was also this note:
Mind you, this woman is well beyond over twice my age, crazy, and more than likely will someday acquire a rascal; she is very resourceful and I fear she may hunt me down. Pray for me.