changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003

beany and the WSW marauders.

that bitch beanie thought she could stroll right past me and into the other room like she owned the place, but i called her bluff and sent her sashaying her girth back the other way as fast as her twinkle tappy toes could carry her. that bitch beanie likes to think she's a fucking ballerina genetically merged with a goddamn tap dancer. but i know that all it is, really, is her growing out her toenails so they click when she walks on hard floors.

last night, i discovered that something either enraging or creepy, and likely both, has been happening in my direction. a week or two ago, i noticed someone had tugged on the delicate arms of the ford's vacuum-powered windshield wipers so that they stuck out toward the edges of the car instead of folded neatly across her chest. i placed them back and quietly cursed them and the fools that snapped off her antennae back in denton.

last night, we arrived back from our trip to tyler to find the arms in akimbic disarry once again. after one of his sojourns to his focus to retrieve bags of urine, brian (not knowing i had seen the ford) later remarked that the windshield wipers were askew for the third time in the last couple of weeks. i told him i knew. but then, we realized we were talking about different cars. me: the ford... him: the camry. not only is someone jacking with ford's WSW's, but camry's as well. AND, as far as we can tell, NO OTHER WSW'S ARE BEING DISTURBED! what gives?!? why me?!?

as i laid in bed awaiting the soft, warm arms of slumber to envelope me and carry me away, i fantasized. first, i thought a surveillance camera rigged up in LR2 would be a judicious way to go. but i really am not interested in purchasing equipment. then, i thought it would be ultra grand to fashion a stake out by sitting in the back seat of my car for hours... just lying in wait. but that might not be the safest route to go. fantasy turned ugly as i imagined them giving me the old hush up with a gun so i couldn't report their shenanigans to the pigs. so the fantasy moved upstairs where i could snap their photo from the sliding glass door. but alas! i forgot to turn off the flash and the jig was up and it was gunplay time all over again. or, worse yet, they would come back to find me after they were released from prison.

no, my best bet was to scare them more than they could scare me. once the band of marauders (i'm pretty sure there are two of them, male, caucasian, average age/height/weight/haircolor) appeared to perform their dastardly deeds, i would purposely set off the camera flash as a lure. once they tiptoed up the rungs of metal and cement and quietly slid their way past helen's door, they would cautiously and slowly peek around the edge of the door frame to see me standing there in the dark wrapped completely in a sheet with a pillowcase over my head with eyeholes cut out. it may sound silly now. but that would be fucking creepy to have in your face in the dark all of a sudden with nothing separating you but a doubled up pane of glass. better yet, a sheet-clad brian could appear behind me. were there two of us?!? was i being tortured?!? eek! they would wet their pants and run away like schoolgirls trying to ring the bell of the local haunted house.

then the ugly returned again and i knew a doubled up pane of glass couldn't stop the flying of bullets.
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