stalkers

I have stalkers. I think it is like 3 right now that are active, the other is dormat, waiting.

I seem to attract 40 year old men that like to talk at me. Not to me, at me. Due to the fact I don't get a word in edgewise. I suffer through the pain, knowing that when they leave I can go back to surf the web or decontaminating myself. I image that they go back to their cube to pick out the perfect suitcase in which to put my body.

I think I would like a dark red one. One with nice soft sides. Rolling, for added comfort.

There is one guy, I will call him, One-Eye Willy. Ole One-Eye he likes my red hair. He makes sure I have food to eat and money for the vending machine. I am like the daughter that the State never allowed him to have.

He told me once, "I was up late last night, thinking about you. Are you ok?"

That convinced me, One-Eye wanted to dance with my Scarlett skin.

I told my co-workers, now I randomly have men walking up to me telling me they think of me late at night. It isn't right I tell you. Not right at all.