A Day In the Life of a REALLY unsuccessful stalker


Only girl by Rihanna is the most beautiful song in the world. It is the story of OUR life, or at least it will be when Julryn Nakamera, the super fabulous and hot pop star realizes that I am the only man for her. She must sing that song to me on our wedding day (and night).

I am not going to tell you my name because I don’t know you like that. This is an hour by hour recap of how I roll.

7.30 am: I wake up to Only Girl and listen to it for an hour- for inspiration. It’s a perfect blend of possessiveness and love, just like me.

8.30 am: Jump into the shower with my 5130 express phone, which is still playing only girl. My habits aren’t open to criticism.

8.35 am: I stare at my paunch in the mirror for a moment.  All I’ve got to do is lose this flab and get a haircut. I swear I don’t look too bad.

8.50 am: I lie back and stare at a poster of her on my wall. Her legs: fit. Backs of knees: smooth, softly dimpled. Wrists: tiny and beautiful. Sigh.

9.15 am: I read my horoscope and translate whatever it says into “this is the day that you’ll win Julryna Nakamera’s heart.

10.00 am: I sit outside my muzigo and wait for ju ju to come out of her mansionette down the road. Her sweet smelling perfume is filling the street, which means she’s just about to emerge.

12.00pm: This woman is stupid. Why isn’t she out yet? I’m pissed. I’m going to splash acid on her perfect face then we’ll see how she’ll trap other men with her gu large eyes and lu perky nose.

1.00pm: All this waiting has made me tired and hungry and probably jobless as well. Ramesh, boss from hell won’t like this.

1.30pm: S@#*! Here she comes. Why is she in that rolling box with that man all the time? Such loud music too. Some may call him driver but I call him rival!

1.31pm: Boda!! I get the boda guy to follow her car.

1.50pm: Location: Garden City. Physical condition: In state of shock, awe and renewed love. I’m still pouring acid on her face though.

2.30pm: She enters a jewelry shop. I would’ve spared her face if she’d entered Aristoc. On with the acid plan.

2.35pm: I unscrew the acid bottle. I’m not sure if this stuff is legit. It smells like paraffin.

2.30pm: Some fat chic in her entourage is blocking me. What’s her problem? I’d never pour acid on her bearded face. Not my type.

3.00pm: ARRGH. She’s seen me. These shades are totally useless for camouflage. It’s my nose I think. Too big. I should start wearing a balaclava (nanti her eyes can’t settle on anything that isn’t shiny).

3.05pm: Under a table. Don’t ask.

3.06pm: This is nine shades of pathetic. Perhaps I should reconsider my choice of career. I don’t have the quickness, the insanity or the nose for all of this.

3.30pm: Time for “contact”. I’m going to text her the color of her undergarments!! Muahahaha. Let me text Maggie- her maid and ask.

3.40pm: This maid is so darn slow. I’m never paying her again!

3.42pm: Aha! Here it is. Blue. Blue? That’s not a very nice color, is it? Very boring. I’m going to enjoy freaking her out.

4.00pm: 0702…0704…oba? Eh.

4.05pm: I can’t remember her damn digits. This is very embarrassing. What sort of stalker fails to memorize his prey’s phone number?

4.30pm: Ah.I don’t even like her that much. I like smart chicks. She’s hot, fit legs and all of that, but dim. I’m out.

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