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Friday, April 8, 2016

Microstory 295: Perspective Seventy

Perspective Sixty-Nine

Oh yeah, I’ve definitely been stalking someone. But you know what the say; you only fight fire with fire. I guess you don’t, because you would then just end up with more fire, but you know what I mean. My girlfriend is being stalked by this guy from college she never actually ever met. He just saw her one day and became delusional about the nature of their relationship. That is to say, he thinks there to be a relationship, when really my girlfriend was just being polite by accepting his friend request online. I guess I shouldn’t say that she’s my girlfriend, because that makes me sound like I’m stalking her. We’re not together anymore, and I legitimately don’t think it’ll happen again, but it might. I’m only stalking him to protect her because we’re still friends, and I would still do anything for her. She’s tried to go to the cops, but proving a stalker is next to impossible, as most people know. Technically, he hasn’t broken any laws, so I’ve had to take things into my own hands. I’ve studied and memorized his schedule, so I know when he’s going to be alone. He spends a lot of time like that, so getting to him should be pretty easy. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill him. We’re not there yet, but he does need to know who he’s messing with when he tries pushing himself onto an innocent young woman. So I’m going to scare him. And yeah, probably beat him a little bit. People like that don’t learn if you just use a stern tone or write a strongly-worded letter. In order for the lesson to sink into his already-damaged mind, it’s gotta be engraved on a wooden bat. Or maybe a tire iron. I can’t be sure which one will be less likely to lead to his accidental death. I can’t look up online which one I should pick, because then there’s a paper trail that leads right to me. It would like that guy who left his kid in the car to die, claiming that he just forgot the baby was in there. Then they went through his browser history and discovered that he, and I think his wife, had been planning the whole thing for a while. What an idiot. I can’t be that stupid. No one can know what I’m doing, which is why I haven’t so much as told the father of my ex-girlfriend's baby. I probably could; I think he would understand, but I have to maintain plausible deniability for them. If I go down, then I have to go down alone. Can anyone tell me how to knock someone unconscious with a blunt object without them suffering from permanent brain damage? Regular people do it on TV all the time, but it’s never explained how they know how much force to put behind the blow. I’m just gonna wing it.

Perspective Seventy

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