Postcard Showdown

I just can’t stop with the postcards to Larkin! It all started when his patsy of a roommate, Zachary, informed me back in late May, that Larkin doesn’t even open my mail, let alone read it. (See “Letter to Zachary.”) While I believe his intent was to plant a seed of doubt in my cabeza, it still had an impact on This Scapegoated Little Soul. Even though I figure Zachary lied, just to fuk with me. Thus began what I call “my postcard flurry” that continues more or less to this day. I figured Larkin would be more likely to at least read a postcard before tossing it into the trash.

[ FYI, Grimaculous Reader: after recovering from the blow that Zachary so deftly delivered, I resumed sending letters to Larkin, along with these postcards. In good faith that My Bodacious Basilisk does indeed read everything I send. Though not necessarily right away, I’m sure he gets around to each and every one. ]


The original message taped on the front was an excoriating condemnation of Larkin’s mean behavior toward Yours Truly. And it said: “The sin you have committed upon me is unforgivable. You force me to take up arms, but you surely shall fall.” I never mailed it, but just let it linger in a cubbyhole, along with eight other angry postcards. All of which I have converted to loving missives and mailed off (though it sure wasn’t easy). I sent this one out September 10th.

In light of recent revelations regarding our incredible association of almost nine years at this point, I overlaid the diatribe with a poem of compassion. And taped it down several times over and at different angles, that Dragon Squarepants may never discover the original intent. Now, enjoy the reverse side:


Now here is the second postcard (front and back) mailed September 15th. Self explanatory.

[ Jambulorious Reader: please note that from hereon in, I must use generic tourist postcards since I’ve finally run out of my special “Free Me From This Bond” promotionals. I just loved blotting out Randoph Taylor’s face with missives to My Larkin…as one kind gesture of devotion. ]


Now, three days ago (it is the evening of September 19th as I compose this section) Larkin pissed me off once more, so much so that I could no longer hold off what I should’ve done several months back. Pray, what did he do? you may ask. He totally ignored me as our paths crossed on Market Street near my building. I followed him up the sidewalk on the other side, on his way to The Cafe (I presume). Simply in my longing to gaze upon him before he disappeared up the stairs. But he looked back, saw me, so instead of a friendly greeting of any sort, he meandered quickly across the busy thoroughfare to slip into Tacos Club, a hole-in-the-wall eatery. (It is an insult and a heartbreak that he continues to treat me like a pestilence. Especially since he approached me some months back and declared that our friendship is an incredible godsend.) Will he actually read this letter? I can only hope.

September 16, 2014

Larkin,

Enclosed is a copy of the official police report I will file with the SFPD tomorrow. I’ve put off filing it, in hopes you’d make things up by now. But so much time has passed, and you clearly avoided me today, that I cannot take your bullshit any longer.

By the time you get this letter, the report will have already been filed. Processing takes 2-3 weeks, by which time I will have a docket number. Which number I will send you via snail-mail, when it comes in.

I am so sorry you’ve decided to play things out this way, for it will only result in your demise, and my victory. Yet such a victory will only cause me further grief.

Most sincerely,

Zeke

P.S.: When you exited Lookout, you crossed the street but switched back when you saw me approach. Then you slipped into the taqueria below my residence. You never came out. I presume then, that you exited via their back door which enters the basement of my apartment building. Then you exited the 16th Street side of 2306, marched up 16th, down Castro and crossed Market to enter the Cafe. NEWS FLASH: you illegally trespassed my building.

[ It is most frustrating to inform you, Jeladvective Reader, that the SFPD refused to accept this report, claiming that “Larkin’s calling you his stalker is an opinion, not a fact,” and “some of your claims are subjective and not grounded in actual events,” and “you should just avoid him, this is a civil suit, maybe place a restraining order on him.” I think their rejection is absurd and patently unprofessional. They also suggested I contact a mental health agency on the grounds that Larkin may be a danger to himself. How bad does this get for me, I thought I’d already hit bottom some months back? No matter which way I turn to gain even a smidgeon of justice, Larkin always seems to have the luck of the Irish on his side. Damn me for being a Scot! ]


Still PO’d like an alley cat with a bucket of ice water dumped on it, I took one further step, and sent four postcards to him the next day, care of the several bars I know he frequents. On the front I taped the same printout to each card. Then handwrote something different on the address side of each one. I chose the Alcatraz theme for extra impact.


These last two postcards were sent on the same day, September 18th, as an afterthought…an important afterthought:

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