Like an idiot, I went over to this guy’s house two nights ago. I dialed him randomly. We got to talking and he seemed nice enough. Yet I found that he was tripping on coke when I went over to his guesthouse that was in back of his parent’s house in Agawam. I went by cab, which he paid for. Well, he tried to rape me, but I got out of it, which seems like quite a miracle to me. That’s because this guy has all the makings of a serial killer! He was this short, stout, hideously ugly creature that dove at me from the front, knocking me to the floor, after we’d been chatting at his kitchen table. I cried AIDS and it stopped him from getting in there, and he settled for a hand job. Anything to keep him out of me, though I didn’t really have to do much. Within seconds, the sicko came.

Put it this way, if I didn’t have the temper I’ve got, as well as the ability to act, I’d be dead, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. The guy was a psycho and I’m lucky to be alive. He’s already paid his consequences, though, and this is just the beginning. The guy fucked with the wrong person.