My Stalker is Playing Dirty

That scream you heard from midtown Little Rock last night was me, opening my mail.

You'll notice the label is printed and there's no return address.

You’ll notice the label is printed and there’s no return address.

My stalker is back, and he/she is hitting below the belt. Not only will I spend the rest of the Christmas season in my typical self-imposed psychotic state. Now…I won’t sleep because that damn Elf on the Shelf is gonna murder me.

I would throw it out, but I’ve seen Child’s Play. Those crazy things just come back…mad…because they smell like sour milk and rotten eggs. Either way, this ends badly for me.

I still don’t know who you are, Stalker, but when I figure this out, we’re gonna rumble. And I’m sending the freakish, homicidal pixie to live with you.



Filed under The view from here

4 responses to “My Stalker is Playing Dirty

  1. Jill

    I your stalker. I just wish I would have thought of tormenting you like this.

  2. I admit, I am completely roped into this whole stalker thing….every day I can’t wait to see what they send you, I am dying to find out who it is! Slash, I hope I never find out, because then they intrigue would be over. #conflicted