Hey man…
I greet you.
My efforts at surveillance show me that you have developed an affinity for my blog. So I have decided to ‘talk’ to you here.
I am not sure what you hope to achieve by stalking me in person. Yes I have seen you at least five times this week. I had to beg my friends not to break your leg.
Literally beg.
I begged on your behalf. I do not beg. Yet I begged for you because I know that you are a fool.
Let me address the tiger in the kitchen. Let me confront your problem headon…
Yes I slept with your wife.
Severally.
Are you happy now? I have given you evidence in writing. If you require pictures, please ask me nicely. I will consider your request thoughtfully.
I am not sure what you think you will achieve by following me about. I see you at my book readings. You even bought a copy of all my books. Yes we saw you. You featured prominently via CCTV footage playback. I own that hotel by the way. Your body language piqued the interest of my security outfit.
I saved your life that day too.
Since I suspect that you will soon be murdered, let me help you. Allow me attempt to dilute your foolishness with understanding as concerns your wife.
She is not worth the effort. Your wife is fundamentally disturbed from deep within. You are bereft of the competence her issues require. It is not your fault.
Your woman has the sex drive and morals of an alley cat. She will copulate with anyone. She is open to any sexual deviance, as long as she has Tramadol in her system. She is a junkie. Trust me, the revelation of her list of lovers will hasten your impending death.
Unjustifiably, your affair with her friend upset her beyond belief. She is getting back at you. I suspect that you bedded the said friend in retaliation for adultery. You both need copious amounts of Jesus. Just bask in His presence or something. You both require spiritual help.
I am prominent. I am popular. I am a celebrity. I am your preferred ‘scapegoat’. I understand your myopic reasoning.
Like others before you, mention my name and you will enjoy undivided attention. So I guess it is easy for you to latch unto my legacy and try to get some succor. You will not get an ounce of flesh off me. I am essentially a spirit. You are playing with hurt, a lot of pain, grief and eternal damnation. Your demise will physically hurt you because I will not be there to beg for your life.
My posse have no tender mercies.
Consider this your last warning.
In my world if you “do anyhow; you will see anyhow…”
Your wife was with me for two days and three nights. We met Friday night at my lounge. She left my suite on Monday morning.
She was dressed like a call girl. I hear that she lives in the same house as you. I learned that you were at home when she left to go ‘hang out’ without you or the kids that Friday. I learned all these after that weekend.
You sir, who is incapable of calling your woman to order has the temerity to stalk me?
Me?!
You could not even get junkies to sell you a gun. That aberration you call a sawed – off shotgun will kill you if you ever get to pull its trigger. It is a faulty contraption. Every dude worth his turf on our streets know that gun.
There… I just saved your life again.
Dude… Chill.
Die for a cause more worthy than that succubus you call your wife.
She hates herself.
She hates you.
She even hates the pope. And she is catholic!
She wants you dead, for no tangible reason. She told me so.
You know that I am right.
Her issues were not immediately obvious. She was high and drunk. And I was uncharacteristically immoral that weekend.
As of thirty minutes ago, she is still maintaining her lie of not being married. If you ask nicely, I may ‘munch’ that chat and send to you.
Charity begins at home. Sort it out with her.
If you are seen stalking me again…
Well…
