Call 911...oh, wait, I am 911. I have a stalker. I've known for quite sometime...afterall, I am the fuzz. Sometimes, I'll be walking and feel someone behind me. I turn, I look...no one there. Getting followed is really an uneasy feeling, especially when you don't really know who it is, what they want, or why...until today...I caught the bastard.
There I was...just working out...enjoying the sweat, thinking I am not going to be a Fitness Failure. The test will be a breeze. I am feeling good. Then...the hair stands on the back of my neck. I get all creeped out. Hinked up. That's what we call...a clue. At first, I didn't realize I knew the person. It was while I was running....and when I saw who it was...I ran faster!
I was panting, no one would help me, I couldn't go any further! What is wrong with people? Running farther and faster didn't help...the bastard was still on my ass...oh, wait...it was my big fat ass! Ha!
I'll get rid of 'em....just watch me...for now, I'm killing 'em slowly...