Stalking

Going to ‘stalk’ Gertrude the Whore this week. Stalk, man! That makes me sound crazy. I don’t mean stalk in the traditional sense, I’m just going to hang around her house, covertly monitor her movements, perhaps do a few things that could be ‘perceived’ as being threatening so that she will be happy to see me when I do eventually reveal myself like a white knight in shining armour and soon after she’ll die (natural causes) and I’ll be on easy street.

Told Enrique my intentions and he’s all for it. He whistled and said, “sweet plan, man.” Enrique’s a man of the world. He knows the score. “Chu could leave hav shepherd’s pie a bag on her door,” he suggested.

“Do what?” I asked, amused and confused

“Chu know, shepherd’s pie?”

“Why would I do that?” I asked. He looked at me, trying to ascertain if we were singing from the same music book of lyrics. We weren’t.

“Meecemeeeet and potates. Scary”

“I know what a shepherd’s pie is.” I also know what a cottage pie is and the difference. One is lamb and one’s not.

“S’ fucked up, man. Shepherd’s pie!” Enrique was convinced he’d had a great idea. “No complete, Only hav.”

“Well, I suppose…” I looked at him. A shepherd’s pie? “But…” What the fuck? “I just want to see if she has any other people visit her, you know? If family visit her then it’s over. A dickhead son or something. She doesn’t look like she has family.”

“I watch chor wife,” said Enrique, I think he thought I’d be flattered when in reality I just didn’t care.

“Look, but don’t touch!” I told him because it fitted the situation.

“Oh no, man. Don’ fuck wid anudda man’s woman,” he said suddenly very earnest.

“Them’s the rules.”

“Jerking off s’okay. Dat h’okay,” he added looking off to the side, nodding, his mouth down-turned. He was clearly thinking about masturbating. “Pretty lady,” he added while smoothing down his moustache.

“Not sure,” I said. I looked at him for a while longer, to see if he’d start laughing and say, ‘gotcha’ but he didn’t.

After a few seconds he slapped me on the arm and said, ‘work!” He looked like he was going to head down the confectionery aisle but then seemed to think better of it and just went into his office. I was sort of sorry I’d started talking to Enrique but now that I’d vocalised my plans it would spur me on to see them through. Going to change my normal running routes first. I’ll run past her house. Nothing odd about a runner running past a house.

Gertrude the Whore is so called because during the WWII the Channel Islands were occupied by the Nazis. Apparently back then Gertrude was a whore

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