I've never yet told you about Bulldyke Mary, this 70 year-old bulldyke who lives two doors down.  I really didn't want to get into it, because it would involve Al and his plastic-titted Walmart-special wife.

They tried to buy a duplex from Bulldyke Mary, but failed, or so it seemed. Al had an observation post set up, complete with an antenna on his roof eve soaking up audio and video from my home.  I exposed him one night when I made a remark to my dog about going outside and fucking with these assholes.  I walked outside and there was old Al, highlighted brightly in his picture window, staring at me, watching.  BUSTED!

By the time I got through psyching Al out, he had 24 hour bodyguards, wouldn't stick his pitiful head up, and finally moved.  Al is a bus driver for an old folks home.  Another raging intellect. But he had enough sense to keep his head down.  Once, I heard one of this thug bodyguards say, "Let's go for a walk."  Al turned him down cold.  And hunkered down behind the bricks.  I was watching from 70 yards, lasered.

Rule Number One:  Shoot the bodyguard first.

Bulldyke Mary was, figuratively speaking only, you understand, in bed with Al, trying to keep the power supply on his antenna up after he moved out. She made a deal with the devil, and now, it has come back to haunt her.

Al and Plastic Tits left, but not before handing the deal off to Walmart Fat Linda who lived next door to them. The antenna appeared shortly on her roof eve after Al and Plastic Tits moved out. I flushed her handler out of the bushes on one occasion by carefully scanning with an AR.  He ran like a scared rabbit. I also later saw him leaving Fat Linda's during the afternoon one day out the back way in the daylight. It turns out he was also Pat the Rat's handler, as I later learned, and I flushed him out again right out into the illumination of Pat's porchlight about 11:30 one night.  A total piece of shit.  Better return to spy school, asshole.  Could have blown his head off, but why waste a bullet at a buck apiece on a total piece of shit like that?

Fat Linda now only checks her mail in the dark of night, or sends her little son out to do it.  She knows I know. She's next.  Karma, Linda. Karma. Her gut is so big she hasn't seen her pussy in five years except in front of a full length mirror.  I feel really sorry for her kid to have a mother like that.  I truly do. He seems like a nice enough boy and my dog likes him, and she's a good judge of character.

So two days ago, Bulldyke Mary fell and broke her hip.  She is a vile, nasty old bitch, always causing problems for her neighbors.  But what she is about to undergo, the humiliation, the pain and agony of rehabilitation, I would only wish upon a sworn enemy.  Just thinking about it warms my heart.

Those who seek to harm me often come to bitter ends. That's the way it has always been. I have never intervened.

"He who goes in search of revenge should first dig two graves."

None of this scum is worth my life.  My grandson would never understand, and neither would my daughter.

Al and Plastic Tits are getting a divorce, and I fervently hope they are miserable.

Mary is about to undergo months of very painful therapy after a hip joint replacement. Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch, both the divorce and Mary's prolonged agony. She very well may end up strung out on oxycodone. Having been in severe pain once or twice, I can attest to you that oxycodone is no fun.  It begins to rule your soul.

Wanna "dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight?" Pat the Rat did.  So did Mary and Al.  As is Fat Linda.  Her day will come. Actions have consequences. Both in this world and in the next.

"Dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight?"  They have, and they will pay.

If, as a friend of mine says, if you're gonna dance with the Devil, you'd better know how to tango...