Pharmacy (Photo credit: Army Medicine)
English: Sweaters. Español: Diferentes tipos de jersies (suéteres). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Colorado Avenue, Telluride, Colorado (Photo credit: J. Stephen Conn)
Image via CrunchBase
On Tuesday, December 18, I told you that I take a knife to bed with me, because of all the creepy people walking around. I came home today, and I went to my kitchen shelf to get the knife I use to cut things. The knife is gone. I guess the perps made themselves at home and took my knife. Well, perps, this is not the knife I take to bed. The knife I take to bed with me goes everywhere with me. I thought you’d steal my knife, and I was right. Did you take my knife so I can’t protect myself? Believe me, perps, I don’t need a knife to protect myself. I’ll claw your eyes out if I have to protect myself.
These horrible people just never stop. They’re like a bad disease that only gets worse each day. Just when I think that maybe the disease is getting better, it starts up again. And that’s the same way the gang stalkers are. A disease that never lets up.
I’m on Facebook with a woman who basically goes through the same things I do. She complained yesterday about what happened to her sweaters. She bought a few new sweaters and hid them under her stairway. She lives in Colorado and it’s getting very cold. She went to her stairway to get her sweaters and all the sweaters were gone.
This is the kind of crap, we targets have to put up with all the time. Something is always missing; stolen by the gang stalkers. I think we targets spend more time shopping than we do anything else. Shopping to replace everything that’s been stolen by the perps.
We plan a day out, and it’s always spoiled by the perps. We can’t go out because they’ve taken our money, the clothes we were going to wear, the appointment’s been cancelled, people don’t show up, etc., etc., etc. Always some crap, that no matter how we try, we can’t accomplish.
Just like today, I had to go to the pharmacy to get some pills for my slightly elevated blood pressure. I stood in front of the register waiting for the pharmacist to get my medication, and I began to feel electricity hitting me. I turn around and a man’s behind me, with his hand hidden in his pocket. I said something to him about the electricity. He looked at me and said he did nothing to me. He turns to everyone, as usual, and talks to them, telling them that he’s innocent. That he’s done nothing. He looks at me and tells me that if I don’t shut up, he’s going to get his grandma and girlfriend to beat me up. I say to him, “Why don’t you beat me up yourself? He looks at me and said, “You’re a woman, that’s why. I don’t beat up on women.” I look straight into his eyes and say, “Well, aren’t you just the man.” He told me to shout up. I say, “You’re going to get your grandma and girlfriend to beat me up. How’s that different from you beating me up yourself.” He said, “I told you, I don’t beat up on women.”
All the time that we’re in the store, he’s telling everyone that I’m crazy, and putting on his innocent face. Typical gang stalking tactic. Most of the people who were in line were also perps, and were shaking their heads agreeing with him.
I got my medication and he said, “I hope I don’t catch you outside because I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
A real gentlemen, isn’t he?
Oh, I just love my life.
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