laughed. He had a great laugh.
He continued, “Is there anyone you know who’s even remotely a possibility?”
I put my glass down on the coffee table and turned to him. “No, I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to come up with something, anything, but there’s no one. Back in my college days there was a guy that used to follow me around, but that was eons ago. I mean, that was a few years ago. I’m not that old. I’m actually quite young.”
He grinned, glanced at his watch and said, “Sorry, but I’ve gotta go. Keep your doors and windows locked. Here’s my number if you need anything. You can call me anytime—doesn’t matter how late. You might want to program it into your cell phone.” He put his card on my coffee table. The only thing printed on the plain, white card was the name, Judah, and his phone number. How strange.
We walked to the door and I thanked him for listening to my problems, then he turned and put his hand gently on my arm. We were standing very close; so close I could smell his sweet, sexy breath. I felt the craziest urge to kiss him, but I didn’t move. He hesitated, looked at me for a moment and said, “Be careful.” Then he left.
After I closed the door behind him, I made sure it was securely locked. I glanced over at my new Taser and shook my head. This whole situation was becoming increasingly disturbing, so I decided what I needed was to hang upside down for a while, clear my head, get a new perspective on things. I retrieved my rarely used tool kit from the back of my linen closet, ripped the shipping box apart, and set up the new inversion table in the middle of my living room. In less than an hour and one dish of mint chocolate chip ice cream I was proudly hanging upside down, listening to Mozart, and waiting for transcendental bliss, or at least a modicum of tranquility. The only thing that came to me was my cell phone, when it slipped out of my pocket and bounced off my eye on its way down to the floor.
So far, I wasn ’t experiencing any of the therapeutic or meditative benefits that the ads promised. Blood rushing to your head is not as pleasant as you might think, and the restraints on my ankles were beginning to chafe. I wondered if too much blood to the face was potentially unsafe. Possibly this was an art that one needed to work into gradually. Next time, I’m going to give it a lot more time to work, at least five minutes.
When I grabbed the side handles and tried to hoist myself back upright I heard a loud thunk sound and the table pitched hard into a sideways tilt. It was not a good sound as thunks go. I tried to upright myself again, but the mechanism seemed to be stuck, so I gave it another solid jerk.
Nothing .
I waited a moment, gathered all my strength and tried one more time, flailing, yanking , and screaming with all my might. Again, nothing. The piece of junk wouldn’t budge. And since I’m not an acrobat with the Cirque du Soleil, I didn’t have the upper body strength to curl up and unfasten the ankle restraints. I was trapped, upside down, alone in my apartment. I began to sweat. Could things get any worse?
Hanging there by my feet, like a spider monkey in the Amazon rainforest, I shrewdly assessed all my options. If I called the fire department, they might chop down my door with an axe. If I called the police, they’d probably just send the fire department. Of course, there was one other option. One other, much more attractive, option. I could call the mysterious Judah. After all, didn’t he just tell me that I could call him anytime, day or night? And really, wouldn’t I rather see Judah, than some fireman smirking at me as he climbed through the splintered opening that used to be my front door? And I can’t have a missing front door when there’s a stalker on the loose, can I? No sirree. No contest. I had to go with Judah, for strictly prudent, logical reasons.
I ’m a pragmatist.
Luckily, my cell phone landed under my coffee table,
He continued, “Is there anyone you know who’s even remotely a possibility?”
I put my glass down on the coffee table and turned to him. “No, I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to come up with something, anything, but there’s no one. Back in my college days there was a guy that used to follow me around, but that was eons ago. I mean, that was a few years ago. I’m not that old. I’m actually quite young.”
He grinned, glanced at his watch and said, “Sorry, but I’ve gotta go. Keep your doors and windows locked. Here’s my number if you need anything. You can call me anytime—doesn’t matter how late. You might want to program it into your cell phone.” He put his card on my coffee table. The only thing printed on the plain, white card was the name, Judah, and his phone number. How strange.
We walked to the door and I thanked him for listening to my problems, then he turned and put his hand gently on my arm. We were standing very close; so close I could smell his sweet, sexy breath. I felt the craziest urge to kiss him, but I didn’t move. He hesitated, looked at me for a moment and said, “Be careful.” Then he left.
After I closed the door behind him, I made sure it was securely locked. I glanced over at my new Taser and shook my head. This whole situation was becoming increasingly disturbing, so I decided what I needed was to hang upside down for a while, clear my head, get a new perspective on things. I retrieved my rarely used tool kit from the back of my linen closet, ripped the shipping box apart, and set up the new inversion table in the middle of my living room. In less than an hour and one dish of mint chocolate chip ice cream I was proudly hanging upside down, listening to Mozart, and waiting for transcendental bliss, or at least a modicum of tranquility. The only thing that came to me was my cell phone, when it slipped out of my pocket and bounced off my eye on its way down to the floor.
So far, I wasn ’t experiencing any of the therapeutic or meditative benefits that the ads promised. Blood rushing to your head is not as pleasant as you might think, and the restraints on my ankles were beginning to chafe. I wondered if too much blood to the face was potentially unsafe. Possibly this was an art that one needed to work into gradually. Next time, I’m going to give it a lot more time to work, at least five minutes.
When I grabbed the side handles and tried to hoist myself back upright I heard a loud thunk sound and the table pitched hard into a sideways tilt. It was not a good sound as thunks go. I tried to upright myself again, but the mechanism seemed to be stuck, so I gave it another solid jerk.
Nothing .
I waited a moment, gathered all my strength and tried one more time, flailing, yanking , and screaming with all my might. Again, nothing. The piece of junk wouldn’t budge. And since I’m not an acrobat with the Cirque du Soleil, I didn’t have the upper body strength to curl up and unfasten the ankle restraints. I was trapped, upside down, alone in my apartment. I began to sweat. Could things get any worse?
Hanging there by my feet, like a spider monkey in the Amazon rainforest, I shrewdly assessed all my options. If I called the fire department, they might chop down my door with an axe. If I called the police, they’d probably just send the fire department. Of course, there was one other option. One other, much more attractive, option. I could call the mysterious Judah. After all, didn’t he just tell me that I could call him anytime, day or night? And really, wouldn’t I rather see Judah, than some fireman smirking at me as he climbed through the splintered opening that used to be my front door? And I can’t have a missing front door when there’s a stalker on the loose, can I? No sirree. No contest. I had to go with Judah, for strictly prudent, logical reasons.
I ’m a pragmatist.
Luckily, my cell phone landed under my coffee table,
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