This man’s face haunted me for weeks after seeing, “Silence of the Lambs”. I dreamed every single night that he was chasing me around this really old house with wood floors. He got me cornered and took a sharp pencil and stabbed it so hard into my foot that it was stuck to the floor and I could not move. Then he made himself a nice bathrobe out of my milky white skin. Needless to say, I didn’t watch anymore of the Hannibal movies.
Looking back I have always been a big chicken. When I was around 12 years old my mom and grandfather took my sister and I to one of those little carnivals that comes to town. There was a tent set up with a woman that would transform into a gorilla before your very eyes. What they did not tell you is the gorilla would escape the cage. I literally knocked down 4 people and hurtled them to get my fat butt out of that tent. My mom said I was the first one out and my eyes were wild. I did not stop at them, oh no, I kept running until I got to the car. I wanted the hell out of there.
Many years later I had an actual scary experience while working a part-time job at the mall. I was working in the store alone that night. A young man entered the store and well, he started to crank his one eyed-yogurt thrower. I pretty calmly told him to knock it off (I do have to admit it is a bit flattering that he was so struck by my beauty he had to start doing that in a store in the mall). Well, that did not work. So I yelled for help, forgetting that the 90 year old mall walkers have not heard themselves fart in decades so how could they hear me screaming? So I looked at the young man as he started coming closer and I informed him I was calling 911. Didn’t phase him. So I picked up the phone and dialed 911.
“911 what is your emergency?”
“Well I work at ________ in the mall and there is a young man in here doing some inappropriate things.”
“What is he wearing?”
“He has on a white wife beater shirt, jeans and white tennis shoes. Approximately 6’0 tall and I am guessing around 170 lbs.”
“Has he threatened you?”
“Um, no he is um…well…oh boy…he is um pleasuring himself in front of me.”
“We will send a car right out.”
About this time, he steps behind the counter and comes towards me. I have nothing in near reach that will hurt him so I just start picking things up off the counter and throwing them at him. I got him pretty good with the stapler.
He must have tired of my lack of affection because he turned to leave. As he raced out the door I yelled after him, “Call me!”
Seriously, that would have been a great story to tell to friends at our 25th wedding anniversary.
I had hoped with age would come more courage. Nope. To this day, I sleep with lights on, wasp spray within reach (much better than mace because it shoots further out) and a baseball bat under the bed. If someone ever does get in here, I am not going down without a fight. Well, unless he kind of looks like Keith Urban. Then, I might just have to let him live.