Sounds like a Robert Ludlum title, eh?
Chester the (dear God, I sure do hope he's only a Potential) Molester
popped in today. We'd already seen his car out front a half hour
earlier, which meant he was in the area, probably for his weekly mental
health visit down at the local social services place, but intended to
come back and inflict himself upon us and needed his car to be close by
for that eventuality. With that foreknowledge, we did a magazine rack
inventory so we'd know what was there before his visit and what to
accuse him of should he take one.
There were children
in house when Chester finally shuffled in, so I stood sentinel over the
front room and children's room, as usual, while Mrs. A ran upstairs to
run interference on Chester himself.
Sure enough, after
determining there were no kids upstairs, he headed right for the
magazine rack where he was met by Mrs. A, who was using the excuse that
she was putting out new magazines. She even said, "Hi. How're you
doing?" as she stepped up beside him, a crisp new and no doubt
tantalizing copy of Seventeen in her mitts. She reported later
that Chester looked at her nervously and quickly grabbed a FAFSA (Free
Application for Federal Student Aid) booklet and fled down the stairs.
I
saw him coming and stood guard, watching as he made a big production of
folding up his FAFSA book and stuffing it into the interior of his
ratty vest. Perhaps I just imagined it, but it seemed to me that
Chester looked more than a little irritated. Maybe those FAFSA booklets
are piling up at his house.
EWWWW! I just imagined Chester's house.
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