Page 229 - NIXBOOK

I’ve dealt with more than a few mentally disturbed folks who for whatever various reasons got fixated on a neighbor, and not in
a good way. More than once I’ve had to knock on some poor guys’ door and explain how the lady across the street, or next door,
or that guy down in the hall in the other apartment, is absolutely convinced that you, sir, are bombarding them with sonic death
rays, and they do not appreciate your planted listening devices, and could you please stop unplugging their refrigerator twice a
day. And every single time the poor person said something like “I don’t even know that woman, I just looked at her one time a
couple months ago and she was being super weird, so yeah maybe I looked at her funny?” And I’d have to tell them “Well
apparently that‘s all it took for her brain, at that time and place, to decide that you are her greatest enemy now and you are
engaging in paranormal psychological warfare against her, as a contracted foreign government secret agent.”

I had a crack whore handcuffed and in custody in the backseat of my patrol car; she normally lived in the jail but occasionally
they let her out. She’s got a bloody hand and she’s making a biologically hazardous mess back there. An aid crew arrived to wrap
up her hand. A citizen approached me then. “Um, officer? I just wanted you to know that right before you started to talking to
that woman, she offered me a blow job to drive her to Silverdale.” (Ten minutes away.)

I pulled over a woman for holding her cell phone up to her face while talking into it, while driving. She was the manager at the
local McDonald’s. She explained “I dropped my phone in the clarified butter and now the speaker doesn’t work very well.”