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- This morning downtown this girl got off the bus and walked down the sidewalk past two men. They barely glanced at her until she'd gone past them and then of course they ogled and made jokes to each other and kept staring after her. And, I don't think I ever told you this, but my devoted fan from last summer, you know? I found out later that he'd lived across the alley from me when I was a teenager and he watched me through the fence. Given that, and with the annual summer kidnap/murder season in full swing, here is a message to all the molesters and rapists and other such personages out there: Dear Fuckhead, I hope you live a very long life, I hope you live to be 108. I hope you are haunted every hour of every day by malevolent ghosts and red-eyed clowns. I hope you sit in fresh bird shit tomorrow. I hope you slip on dog shit and fall and break your leg. I hope you get bursitis in all your joints. I hope you get eczema on your testicles. I hope you get really big kidney stones. I hope you get strep throat every winter for the rest of your long life. I hope you get razor burn. I hope you burn the roof of your mouth on every piece of pizza you ever eat. I hope you get into a firey car crash and the terrible screams you hear are your own, but you live, of course, disfigured and hideous and hairless. I hope a family of skunks moves under your house. I hope you have insomnia and wake up every night and find someone outside YOUR window. I hope you get your tie stuck in the shredder and you start to choke and die and then you look up and the only person around, the only person who can save you, is a woman, and your pathetic little life is at her mercy. She'd wait until the last second, of course, and then she'd unplug the machine. I hope you get food poisoning and puke up your guts and have diarrhea at the same time. I hope the next person you attack is wearing those pointy pointy high heels and she kicks you in the balls so hard with the point of her witch's shoe that you puke for a week whenever you even think about it. I hope you get prostate cancer and colon cancer and bone cancer and osteoporosis. Most of all I hope you get caught and you spend the rest of your long long life in a cold clammy piss-smelling jail cell and your mother never comes to visit you while the rest of the world forgets you ever existed. And then when you're 108 and you're lying there covered in bedsores and rat crap and drool and you're trying to say your feeble last words, the only person who pays any attention to you is the clown that's hanging from the ceiling waiting for you to die so he can pounce on your warm dead body.
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