If my upstairs neighbor can not be found in her appartment, go look for her at my front door.
Day before yesterday, I hear knocking. I looked through the spy-hole, and saw Cheryl’s head. I opened my door, and, there she be, the other half of the Manwhich! She is dressed in pajama’s – with feet! She has a pen in hand. What in the world does my other nutty neighbor want? She – looks innocent enough.
My friend from the Village called, and I told her I am Manwhiched in.
“I got an upper nutty-bun, and a lower nutty-bun. I am the man-beef in the center.”
I give Cheryl a serious look, but, break out laughing when she breaks out in Chattle. Chattle is Cheryl’s stream of dyslexic chit-chat that tells a story from the center, then heads to the end and beginning, at the same time – without punctuation.
“O.K. Headline. You always tell me to “HEADLINE”.”
There is a pen in her hand. Five days earlier, she knocked, and handed me a piece of paper.
“Jon!? John(I always write and wonder) We need to work out a system. John, for sure (at least) I do not want someone knocking at my door + walking thru my house to sweep deck+walk back thru. I am private person + and am sure you are. My bamboo is dead. All the leaves are dead John. If leaves can go thru those tiny deck cracks, I’m thinking, what about John’s deck.”
Two days earlier she pressed me about this system – at my door. I suggested I buy her a potted LIVING evergreen – with trippy X-mas lights to hang on it. This would solve the dead tree problem, which gives me the image of dead Jesus on a dead tree. I will be able to go back to utterly ignoring my nutty-bun.
“NO! Never! I am attached to my (dead) bamboo!”
“But, it will be – FROM ME!”
“NO! You don’t understand. That bamboo means the world to me!”
It took me two days to figure out what she was saying. She already can’t get me out of her head. What she wants – is to make sure she is always in my head! As for all those seeds, Cheryl lied and said the birds went crazy over their bird seed and threw it all over the place. Those are bamboo seeds. She probably shook that dead tree – real hard!
I’m not dumb. I know what she wants, because she had a broom in her hand when she gave me the note. A week earlier, her caregiver knocked at my door in response to me talking out loud about the bamboo rubble. She wanted to come in and sweep off my balcony. I let her do it, and went up to thank Cheryl for being considerate. Why does she have a pen in her hand? She wants to come in and sit down in my home – in her PJs she found in the dumpster – and make a schedule – where she comes in and sweeps, in place of her caregiver.
Good idea? Or……..Bad Idea? She acts like a three year old – who needs all the attention she can get – FROM ME!
“Would you like a bowl of Coo-Coo Puffs while we brainstorm this!”
Five days later, I video taped Kim and Kathy depicting me as a dangerous Man Monster. Kim has trained a wounded mother and daughter – to snarl at me. Kim wants me to think about HER every minute of the day – too! Why didn’t the Wounded Woman League pull Cheyrl into their Devilish Gossip Attack? Because, they knew she has a giant crush on me, and, didn’t want anyone to say anything bad about me. Only she could say bad things about me. I’m – hers!
How would that look, if I invited a severely challenged person into my home, and fondled her in her blue PJs with the cute saying;
“Happy to be blue!”
That would be the money-shot. Kim would pay good money to own it. Headline!
“High on meds, this poor woman wandered the stairwell, lost. Then, she saw the bad man that looked like Santa, holding a bag of candy that said “Fun Time” on it,”
What Cheyrl is doing to me, is sexual abuse. I keep setting a boundary for her, and, she is constantly plotting, inventing a stratagem, to get me to dop my guard, be sexual with her, and fall in love. Only then, will everything be fine. Only then, will there be peace in the Valley some day.
It took me ten years to end The Waterfall of Love that rotted half the deck boards, and trashed our storage doors. Then there was Glitter From Heaven that greeted me as I climbed my steps. It was heaviest around my door. I tracked it in where it clung to my rug for two years – like cosmic Forget Me Nots! Do you think Cheryl picked up on there being competition from – the lower Nutty-bun – and when she saw the PJ’s in the trash, a lightbulb went off?
How can he resist me. I look so cute, like a three year baby girl. Shall I throw on some glitter?
Since I was sixteen, my mother came on to me. Every time I went down for my annual visit, she made sexual advances. For years when I walked in the door she would put on OUR song, and bid me to dance. After I thought we had made peace, Cheryl told me something very chilling. Her caregiver heard it. It constitutes – STALKING!
There is a movement just starting, the ‘Why Wait So Long’ movement. I decided I waited long enough to describe how uncomfortable I am made by the Nutty Buns, to the point I am considering, moving! Why don’t we – just tell it like it is?
Kim Hafner thought we were going to mate. We swapped Crazy Cheryl stories. When I got my book back from Kim a year ago, damaged, I became distant. We no longer swapped Cheryl stories. Kim witnessed her freak-out. That’s when Kim plotted to make me out to be the Troublemaker on HER ward. She was going to punish me for being aloof. She would love to see me carried off to the Johnson Unit, like Cheryl was. She brought my daughter into her Snake Pit! This is a diabolical STALKER. When I told her her dog injured my ears, she threw me the bird and said;
Kim’s hand gestures are great. Thespians will study her, and use them in a movie. The key thing she says is she is not my friend anymore, and this is what angers me. Kim is no longer my ally, on my side…………..in the Coo-Coo’s Nest!
Stalkers want to make sure you never forget them, never live a day with peace of mind. They’re happy………….when they make your feel blue. It sounds like Cheryl wants me to perform a healing on her dead tree – for starters!
to be contunued
Alice and Callie have both been vying for Bob’s affections for weeks, so when the three of them are alone, cleaning the classroom, tensions start to run high. The moment Bob’s back is to the girls, Callie throws herself away from Alice, knocking over some desks on her way to the floor. “Why’d you push me!?” she spits at Alice as Bob turned to see what the commotion is. Bob rushes to help Callie up, and, when he notices she’s favoring one foot, he helps her limp to the nurse’s office, shooting a cold glare at Alice as they pass the doorway. It isn’t until she’s alone that Alice meekly says, “But I didn’t do anything. . . .”
Callie just performed a Wounded Gazelle Gambit, a ploy in which the Schemer pretends to be a victim in order to garner sympathy for themselves and/or foster animosity towards the alleged aggressor. WGGs can be as mild as implications of verbal abuse, or as extreme as framing someone else for one’s suicide, at which point this trope becomes Suicide, Not Murder.
Almost every mystery series has at least a few episodes where the culprit turns out to be one of the victims. Also a common ploy of the Femme Fatale and The Vamp in Film Noir stories. It’s one of The Oldest Tricks in The Book.
A form of Malicious Slander. Can also be a Lame Excuse. When it’s done against policemen (and women) to avoid prosecution, it’s a Police Brutality Gambit. See also Loser Gets the Girl. When done on a large scale, it’s usually also a False-Flag Operation. Often precludes I Can Explain, which is what would usually happen in Real Life (demonstrating that Tropes Are Not Bad).
Can be a form of Poor Communication Kills on the part of the (actual) victim.
Compare Why Did You Make Me Hit You?, Arrested for Heroism, Playing the Victim Card. Related to Guilt by Association Gag, from the victim’s point of view. Listed as #34 of The Thirty-Six Stratagems. If this is being done for murderous purposes, then it’s I Surrender, Suckers. Compare and contrast Wounded Gazelle Warcry, where the “gazelle” is empowering rather than manipulative. See Everything Is Racist for a sociological variant.
I did not post yesterday because I am working on a long piece about the Vincent Rice Family Trust. My uncle Vinny was like a father to me. He was my first Art Patron. For as long as I can remember he was the secret benefactor of five of the Prescos. He came to our rescue. He bailed Rosemary out of trouble time after time. Vinny did this for his wife, June Rosamond Rice, the eldest daughter of Royal Rosamond who was not around when his four daughters grew up. Nor was my father, Victor. Vincent utterly ignored this narcissistic Leo who demanded he be treated like a king, even though he did nothing for his four children, but torment them, abuse them. steal from them, and cast out his children for being disloyal to him. He is the true criminal that appear in the beginning of Great Expectations, accept, when he threatens to cut your liver out, he means it. Vic has no redeeming qualities. It was all about him until the day he died. Then there is the woman he wed, Rosemary. It was all about them, their undying love and hatred for one another. It had to be the greatest tragedy their four children would ever see, we forbiden to take an inner journey and be true unto ourselves, for, this was an attempt to escape, flee the Rose Theatre that was on fire.