Daniel Anthony Westburn was born January 14th 1968, at least according to his driver's license. I also may have changed one or two of the details. I can't let you guys have all the fun. The point here is that I have his driver's license. And he knows it.
For a private investigator he is not subtle. There were days during the dark months - I'm calling them the dark months because "those two months where I went cannibalistically crazy and tried to kill everyone" is a little too long - when I could see Mr. Westburn clear as day, just staring at me. And he had the nerve to wave at me. He wanted me to know he was watching me and it worked. I mean, I got so paranoid that I…
Well you’ve read what was going through my head during those dark months. They weren’t pretty.
I vowed to get my revenge and that revenge has finally begun.
I returned to work on Monday to a shit-ton of paperwork and a fawning Heather. I think she’s worse when she’s trying to be nice to me. It’s disturbing really. She kept coming in every five minutes to ask me if I was alright, if I needed anything, if I was feeling okay. It was like attending another therapy session except my urge to kill Heather is much stronger.
So the urges are more under control, in case you were wondering. I’m pretty much back to my usual desires to murder my secretary to shut her up. I haven’t been able to actually kill anyone yet but I’m getting there. It’s going to take some time.
Of course I am all for patience but serious, my secretary needs to learn to shut up. Holy crap.
After just two days of her incessant prattling, I was ready to burst. So when I saw Daniel Westburn sitting across from my house yesterday, I snapped.
While I was away on my extended vacation, I had a nice reprieve from the watchful eye of that man, and I paid very little attention to my surroundings on the first days that followed my return. But the minute I returned to my normal routine, he was there. Like he could sense it.
So I called the police.
I told them I was a neighbour down the street and I wanted to report suspicious activity. I went on to list some simple details about Mr. Westburn that would ensure they knew exactly who they were about to harass.
Several hours (and a bottle of wine with my loving husband) later, a patrol car arrived down the block and two officers approach the car of one Daniel Westburn. They asked him for identification, he gave it and after a few brief words, he was left to his own devices. As I knew he would be. I caught his eye after the officers walked away and I waved.
Early this morning, he was still out there so I made him a cup of coffee, and went out to talk to him. I apologized for calling the police, I feared I had a stalker. Would he please accept this coffee as an apology? He didn’t say a word, nor did he accept the coffee so of course it ended up spilling onto his lap. Oops.
I then, of course, tried to help him clean up but he pushed me away with a grunt – he doesn’t talk much, does he? – so I went back inside. Not before swiping his wallet while he was distracted (I knew where he kept it after all).
So now I’m sitting here, getting ready for work, and I thought I’d share this little victory with you. How excited are you for the coming weeks?
We’re going to even the playing field with Mr. Daniel Anthony Westburn.
As always, dear readers,