First of all, let me tell you that I do know how to spell stalk, but I find it extremely funny that Internet thinks you spell it "stock". So, now that we have that cleared up...
Dear Stalker,
I thought it was weird when you followed me home the other night and did a u-turn as soon as I pulled in my drive. I was slightly concerned when you showed up in my driveway at 5 on a Sunday morning, sat there for a second, then left. But when you didn't come in and stab me or steal my trash, I let it go.
When I saw you creeping down my dead end road last night, after I knew all my neighbors were locked down for the night, I started to worry. When you parked your car behind the trees near my house and turned off your lights, I knew I was right to be a little freaked out. When I saw nothing for a few minutes except for what looked like someone lighting a cigarette, I started to think I was a little full of myself and maybe I just wanted a stalker so badly that I imagined one. But I called my brother anyway. Actually, I called my mom, and said "Send Brother and his gun over, please...don't worry, probably just some kids making out in their car, but just in case."
When my dad, my mom and Brother showed up, and after I attached the dog's leash to my jeans (with the dog on the other end, of course) (because I couldn't let him eat any chickens when I was expecting him to save his appetite for stalkers) and stuck my Giant Killer Super Dangerous Gun in my back pocket, I finally got the nerve to go outside and see who those rascally teenagers were and if they were indeed making out or if they had any pot they wanted to share in exchange for not getting eaten by Shucks. Lo and behold! It wasn't teens at all. I do have a stalker. It's you. Ass.
Let's get this straight. When I asked for stalkers, I only meant to please follow my blog, and, if you're really feeling crazy, comment every once in awhile, because blog comments are like crack for writers. I did not mean to literally show up in the middle of the night, scare me to death and make me invite armed relatives over for a little family reunion. Dude, seriously.
So, stalker, please go home now. Please leave me alone. In case you haven't heard, my dad is crazy and likes to shoot at stuff. Also, Brother is very angry, and I once defended him from Scary Old Dude, so he owes me one. If you happen to get past them, you'll have to deal with My Mom, and she's a pretty bad mama bear when someone messes with her babies. And Shucks hasn't had chicken in a veeeerrrry long time, and also has Death Bark. Last but not least, I'm not dealing with it any more. This is my town, yo. I have surrounded myself with rednecks for a very good reason, and son, you're that reason.
Very Sincerely,
Me
