Sitting at Starbucks, drinking coffee.
“Last night I sat outside her house watching and waiting, I’m convinced she new I was there. Still I sat outside watching waiting for my delivery to arrive. I was waiting for hours, waiting to catch a glimpse of my sweet, and her short hair black as ebony, her fair comp lection almost angelic, her soft voluptuous lips, her cute little nose and her devilishly sexy green eyes. I only wanted to see her one more time. However this is the same story I had been telling myself every night for the last month. Quickly 7:30pm became 3:00am I was getting quite exhausted. I was about to quit and go home when I heard something, a van, coming down the street. I hurriedly jumped into position, took the lens cap off my camera and waited. Damn it! The van stop it kept going. I threw my camera in the backseat and drove home.”
“Man, she is gonna call the cops on ya and they’re gonna chuck ya in the ‘slammer.’” Said my best mate Ben.
“Why would they do that?” I queried, “I mean its not liked I have caused her any harm and its not like I wish her any harm.”
“Its called stalking!” Ben exclaimed, Ben continued, “You need to get over her man, lets face it dude she wasn’t the most faithful person to you.”
One Week Later, in a designated eating area at uni.
“I returned I parked my car around the corner this time waiting for her to return home. This time I had come prepared to wait. My car was loaded with munchies and non-alcoholic beverages.”
The Essay on My First Time Home
Shining brightly, in the darkness below the clouds, the lights of tall buildings rose up to meet us. As the plane turned toward Logan airport my anticipation grew; I became anxious, squirming in my seat. The giant Citgo sign, the Prudential, Copley Plaza, Long wharf, and Fenway Park were lit up, and my mind was filled with nostalgic memories that made the descent longer. Bump, thump, bump, thump ...
“About 7:00pm she rounded the corner, just getting home from work I thought to my self. I waited for about 10 minutes. That would be enough time for her to get ‘her foot in the door’. I started my car and drove into her street with my headlights turned off. I parked my car road across the road from her house, in my usual spot. I noticed something different this time.”
“What!? Her curtains weren’t drawn this time,” Ben mentioned sarcastically.
“No!” I quickly exclaimed. I queried, “How do you know she always has her curtains closed anyway?”
“Oh… You probably mentioned it a while ago, I remember the most trivial things.” Ben uneasily replied.
“Anyway, where was I. Oh, there was something different this time. There was another car in the driveway and unless one of her relatives got a new car it wasn’t theirs’. It was definitely a car I had not seen there before. I was intrigued. I waited for this person to leave. 10:15pm by my watch and the front door opened. I could see the two figures in the doorway. It was so dark I could hardly see. I could make out that it was another man with her.”
“Oh oo.” Ben said.
I was furious, I wanted to know who this man was. I reached for my binoculars and peered through them. I still couldn’t make out what the man looked like.
“She should be entitled to a new man. It’s been what, a month and a half now. She has every right.” Ben included.
“I viewed a lengthy kiss that took place on the doorstep. I wasn’t happy. I watched him gleefully stroll to his car and drive off, and the worst thing is. I could see that the whole time she was watching him from the doorstep and she didn’t close the door and go inside until he was well around the corner.”
“So!” Ben exclaimed.
“So, she never once did that for me. She was always inside before I opened my car door.” I replied.
The next night 5:00pm, in my car on my way to her house.
“I’m going to get that bastard, who ever he is.” I kept telling myself this over and over again. “She means to much to me for me to let her go and she knows this. I’m going to kill him.”
The Essay on First Car Money Place Time
Have you ever spend a little time maintaining your car? People use their cars everyday for different purposes. Mostly they use it for traveling to places. Cars are proven to be safer and cheaper than sports bikes. Some people do not maintain their car on regular bases; those are the people who we see often on side of a road waiting for a towing truck to come. Do you have any idea on how costly can ...
Kill! Is this really what I meant to say to myself, or is it just a figure of speech inside of my rage of emotions. Could I really kill someone? I suppose this is a question that every man would ask himself, at least once in his life. Except for those delusional psychos, I don’t suppose they would really think about it, they would just do it. Well thank god for that, I’m not a psycho. “Okay this is her street just up here on the left. Oh I’m here a little early, I’ll just wait.”
7:30pm.
“Okay here she comes. Yep, it’s her. Now lets just wait for the guest of honor.” What will I really do when I get a hold of him; I’m not going to know him. I guess I’ll just act on impulse.
8:15pm.
“There you are you son of a bitch. Your mine” I reef my baseball bat from the back seat, jump out of my car and run towards his car. “Hey! Hey you.” I quickly jump behind a bush. Damn wait till he gets her out here then she will know how much you mean to her. That’s the right idea. He approaches the door but I still haven’t got a look at his face, it’s as if every time the light is about to hit his face another shadow mystically appears to hide his face. Okay, here she comes. All right they’re in the car here’s my chance. Just as he is about to turn the car over I my baseball bat goes through the front windscreen shattering it completely. I retrieve my bat from inside the car, and threaten him; “get out or I’ll kill you”. What’s wrong with him he’s crying? I look to the passenger seat where he is focused on. No! I quickly open her door and lift her gently out, no this can’t happen not to you. That’s it he will pay for this. I rip him out of the car, he lands face first on to the ground and I belt him over the back of the head with my bat; killing him instantly. “Who is he?” it may be of little consequence but I turned him over to see who he was. “Ben! What the hell?”
