Friday, August 26, 2011

How Not to Be Murdered: A Case Study

After Tuesday's post about my irrational fear of my impending, brutal demise at the hands of a murderous intruder, I kind of got inspired!

Okay, maybe it wasn't so much "inspired" as it was "even more freaked out." First, you all shared in the comments that it's perfectly normal to be freaking out (I'm paraphrasing), which I immediately assumed was code for WE'RE COMING FOR YOU TONIGHT.

Then, I woke up to a text from my neighbor who was all, "My dog is growling at the front door. AND MY DOG NEVER GROWLS OMFG WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE." (Again, paraphrasing.) Later, she told me that there had been a suspicious vehicle parked outside a few nights before. (So obviously the murderer is taking his time to scope out the scene of the crime so he can do something really spectacular with my disembodied head.)

OH! And THEN, the next morning, simultaneously to the second, my phone rang and someone knocked loudly and urgently at the door. Really, the timing alone was enough to scare the shit out of me and send my flying under my kitchen table with a meat tenderizer. When I peered through the peephole to see what seemed to be a utility man at the door, I was even more disturbed. My mind flipped through the options, all ending with this man more or less forcing his way into the house the moment I opened the door. To be safe, I handed my son the meat tenderizer, pointed to the door, and made a flailing, swinging motion with my hands. He nodded with understanding, so I took a deep breath and fumbled to unlock the deadbolt.

The utility man's STORY was that he was here to "change out the meter." He handed me a piece of paper and I glanced at the street to make note of his vehicle. It all SEEMED legitimate, but I mean, really. How hard is it to print up some fliers, rent some utility-man gear, steal a company vehicle, and buy a few dozen electric meters?


I took to Twitter (okay, and the electric company) in full-on panic mode, and luckily my friends were there to comfort me.

The responses were quick and direct:

"Stab him. QUICKLY."

"Is he cute? Maybe you're in a porno."

"Kristine, I'm more concerned that you will kill an innocent man than I am concerned you will be brutally murdered."

"Kristine, you'd probably be compelled to befriend the murderer, handing him a knife and telling him to meet you outside in the woods."

My friends are assholes.

Anyway, I've decided that this electric meter man is all a ruse, and the guy will certainly be back to kill me this evening. Which is why I'm preparing now. I've come up with the following options if I need to battle it out to the death. In my pajamas. While the fucking cats stand by and lick their crotches, probably.

1. Blunt objects, like the iron I sleep with under my pillow. They've been stashed in every room of the house, and I'm assuming the strength to actually hit the person will come with the accompanying adrenaline rush. Otherwise I'll probably just really piss him off.

2. Bobcat. I heard my cats howling and screeching like feral creatures at the back door this morning. Obviously there was a bobcat on my back porch. (What else could it have been?) I'm going to leave it some milk and Friskies to lure it back so I can wrestle it into the house. A guard dog is one thing, but a fucking bobcat? I'm not sure why more people are doing this already, really.

3. Kill the intruder with kindness. This works in the literal sense, right?

That's all I have for's a work in progress. I'm pretty sure my husband will be very impressed by my resourcefulness when he comes home in a month. And about the fact that I'm still alive.