The following is the very first tales from the freakboy zone e-mail I ever sent to my unsuspecting friends and family. They should have stopped me when they saw what was coming, but here I am 11 years later, now with a blog that can reach worldwide.
I am leaving this classic tale "unpolished" because I think it's amusingly fine the way it is. As an added bonus, I'm including my e-mail sign-off from back then. To be honest, I had nearly forgotten how completely awesome and vaguely obscene my sign-off was until I read the original e-mail again.
She watches me. I can barely set foot outside my door without feeling her cold, judgmental eyes on my back. Questions! Always with the questions. She is a near stranger to me. She has not earned a pass into my life. She does not deserve a minute-by-minute itinerary of my day, my week, my month, my year, my decade!
She is just a librarian, taking inventory of other lives. Most likely waiting for the perfect moment to pounce upon an unsuspecting victim. She will discuss and dissect the mental snapshots she has collected. Pouring salt over old wounds and smiling coyly as she renders her personal verdict of the victim's person.
One day I will turn the tables on her. I will note of her activities. Activities that I stumbled upon, not by feverishly seeking them out, but by the hands of fate kick-dropping me into the right place at the perfectly and poetically right time. I will emulate her smug, self-righteous tone. I may hate myself in the end but the beast of a thousand noses will be vanquished and I shall live freely, minding my own business once more.
John L. Harmon
Freaked for your pleasure
For the record, I was eventually kick-dropped into the right place and managed to startle this librarian by casually mentioning how she had been to a particular business. She asked how I knew and I grinned inscrutably. The look of utter shock on her face made the scene all worth while, with absolutely no regrets on my part.
P.S. Click CAD for another library-related tale.