Friday, September 2, 2016

It's stalker season...

Today marks the opening of Stalker Season.  How do I know?  I've already been targeted.

Let me make this clear that this post is not against any religion, in any way.  My stalker is a specific faith, and that plays a part in this, but I've many other friends that practice this same faith that are perfectly human.

It all began over a year ago.  The first time my stalker came to the door, I was polite.  When it was requested that I set up a study session, I politely declined.  I explained that I have a special needs child and I'm on call nonstop.  Setting up such a thing simply does not work for my schedule.

Throughout the remaining months, my stalker would randomly pop up on my doorstep, peeking in the windows to see if I was available. For some reason, she has decided that saving my soul is her ultimate goal in life.  Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that she's so concerned about my soul's welfare.

To my dear assistant that was stuck answering the door while I hid, I apologize.  This morning she said to tell you 'Hi'.

What finally put an end to this, I thought, was when my stalker showed up one particular evening.  The following is what ensued:

I'm reading while my little guy is in the shower.  My heart sinks as I realize she is there and I don't have time to escape.
"Hello!  I see you aren't doing anything!  Now must be a good time for us to talk!"
There's a book in my hand, Psycho.  You do not exist, Peasant.  But what I actually said was,
"My son is in the shower and should be getting out any minute.  I really don't have time right now."
At this point, she gives me the look that says she thinks I'm inventing my son, like he's an invisible friend and I need serious therapy.
"But this is important!  Look  here!"
"My son is important."
At that point, my awesome child comes bursting through the doorway, as naked as the day is long, and streaming water everywhere.  The look on my stalker's face almost made all of those months worthwhile.  Almost.  It was...phenomenal!  Go kid!

I haven't seen my stalker since then.  I assume the season was over and I was off the hook.  Evidently, she renewed her license.  This morning she popped up again.  With a hasty 'I'M NOT HERE!' tossed in the direction of the kids, I ran out of the room.  I'm  not sure how to get out of this one.

*Written from the safety of the locked upstairs bathroom

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