February 21, 2011
Originally published October 18, 2002
A CERTAIN INDIVIDUAL may want to hear the rest of a story I told him on Blood Mountain. I realize that most people who read this blog can't understand how I could ever even POSSIBLY piss someone off with the rants I write, and when I tell them about hateful or threatening emails I receive, they laugh and call me paranoid. Maybe so, but I have gotten a few missives that fall into that "I Know What You Did Last Summer" category.
The anonymous ones don't bother me, because any asshole too cowardly to identify himself damned surely doesn't have the balls to look me in the face and strike me dead. Those jackoffs lead rich fantasy lives. They also smoke cigarette butts that they pluck out of uninals in public bathrooms and de-pissify under that modified hair-dryer in the corner of the Men's Room before they light them and grin like a mule eating briars the entire time. Fuckwits. Maybe the DC sniper wrote me. But that nutless wonder prefers to shoot schoolboys and gas-pumpers, hero that he is, so I don't worry.
I usually carry a gun. (Or keep one fairly handy, at least) If he shoots at ME, he had better not miss.
But a couple of the folks who want to see me dead, or "punished" for my writing don't mind saying who they are, or promising that they will "get me," given the chance. I don't intend to give them the chance, but John Hinkleys exist in this world, and I may be receiving love notes from one of them. I believe most of that shit is 99.9% bluff, but you never really know...
So, Dax, that was why I reacted the way I did in the woods when I first met you. Yeah, I was worried for a moment there. But I almost wish you had been the assassin sent to kill me. You remember what I told you about the cleanup operation that was supposed to occur at my house while I was camping?
It didn't happen. And the end result was WORSE than Recondo 32 predicted. It was a horrific return home. At least the swarm of ants I discovered in the bedroom ate most of the evidence.
But they didn't eat the smell....
All content © Rob Smith