A Letter

Dear Mr. Creepy Janitor,

You scare the bejesus out of me. When I see you walking towards me, it takes every fiber of my being just to suppress the urge to run screaming in the other direction. I think this is partly because you look like you never bathe. But mostly it is because you trap me in the hallway talking your crazy conspiracy theory talk.

I am afraid to shred documents at my workplace because you are the one who empties it. I know we are on a data retention, so it does not get shredded immediately and I have a sneaking suspicion that you are a serial killer-slash-stalker and get your intelligence from said documents. I desperately do not want you to know anything about my personal life lest I come home to find you dressed up in my home a’la Norman Bates in Psycho.

It was really nice for you to wait for me that time that my car battery wouldn’t start and you jumped it and waited for it to stabilize. I know you’re supposed to keep it running for 20 minutes, but my commute home is only 15 minutes, and I really wouldn’t have minded idling those last 5 minutes in the privacy (and safety) of my own driveway. Was it really necessary for you to wait with me for an hour- in 98 degree weather talking about how you thought that the President planned the Economy crash?

This quasi-kind act was enough to get me to think well of you for about a week when you decided it was a good idea to tell me that upon your Doctor’s instruction to take up a hobby, you promptly researched how to shrink heads on the internet. I was further unsettled when you told me that you practiced on an apple and that you were “off to a good start.”

This thinly veiled threat will not dissuade my theory that you are in fact a mass murderer, just a stone’s throw away from shrinking the heads of kittens that you keep locked in a deep dark hole in your basement.

Today I desperately needed to go the bathroom, but you were blocking the hallway, emptying the shredding bin and accosting my workmates with niceties- which is no doubt a torture tactic you learned about on the internet after you read all you could on shrinking heads. I waited for 30 minutes before the sight was finally clear.

I just want you to know that I am on to you. I also want you to know that I carry pepper spray and have taken self defense classes.

Please don’t kill me.

Sincerely,

Pop Tart

I mean- Hot Pocket.