I was on my way to my apartment after doing some shopping, and the floozy who lives upstairs came rushing down the stairs. I quickly went into my bag to find my video camera. When she saw I was taking photos, she flew into a rage. She came over to me and said, “I told you not to take pictures of me, lady.” I responded,”Well, at least I’m a lady.” She came closer to me, “I told you not to talk back to me. I’ve been in prison and I’ve broken people’s neck. And I’ll break your neck.” She made the gesture of a neck breaking. I replied, ” I can tell you been in prison. You don’t have to tell me. You put one finger on me and I’ll have you arrested.” She replied, “How are you gonna prove it?” I replied , “I’ll have proof.” She said, “How you gonna prove it, lady.” I said,”I’m certainly not going to tell you.” She came closer to me again and stuck her finger in my face, “I told you not to talk back to me. I’m gonna break your neck.” She was walking away and I said, “Why don’t you come closer to this window and say you’re gonna break my neck. I want everyone to hear it.” She wouldn’t come closer, because she knew where I was standing people would hear her voice. She stood by the wall with her finger in the air looking really crazy. She went away in a huff.
I’m writing this as proof if she ever does anything to me. If I ever end up dead with a broken neck, I want police to know where to look for my killer. She lives in apartment 240; black woman; 42 years old; mannish looking; long braids that attach to her scalp; has gold teeth on the bottom, right and left side; about 5′ 7″ – 5′ ll”. She used to be heavy, but she’s lost a lot of weight. And the property manager knows who she is. The property manager gives her carte blanche.
She wanted to know what I was going to do. This is it. I’m writing about it for everyone to see. So if anything should happen to me, I hope someone will speak up in my name. If I stop writing this blog, it means someone has done something to me. If I ever stop writing, I will let all of you know.
Every time the woman upstairs drinks, she gets crazy. It took me a while today before I realized she’s probably been drinking. She has a Jekyll and Hyde personality. A few times she’s been nice to me, but then she turns around and becomes a crazy person. So I know it’s alcohol, mixed in with some drugs. These are the kind of people the government hires to harass us.
By the way, this is not the first time she’s threatened me. The last time, she pushed me onto the gravel and told me that if I said anything to her, she was going to beat me up. I’ve already been beaten up by another gang stalker (I wrote about it). So if she beats me up, it’ll be the second time a gang stalker has beaten me.
The U.S. government should be ashamed of itself for giving free rein to people like the floozy upstairs. How many other people has the government killed?
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