Look Who’s Stalking (Humor)

Iain Moss (Malaysia)

As Mike entered the small park, he could see Sally sitting on one end of a park bench reading a book with a small handbag by her side.
He sidled up self-consciously and sat at the other end of the bench.
“I was just wondering…” he said.
“I have a knife,” Sally said almost at the same time.
“I’m sorry?”
“I, um, have a knife.”
Mike looked at her bag.
“It must be a very small knife. The blade can’t be more than a few inches long. Is it a Swiss Army knife?”
“Who do you think you are?” Sally asked angrily. “Airport security?”
“I suppose if it were a Swiss Army Knife,” Mike continued, unabashed, “you could always gouge out my eyes with that thing for getting stones out of horses’ hooves. Or slash my wrists with the little bone toothpick.”
“Now you’re just taking the piss.”
“It’s interesting though, isn’t it,” Mike ploughed on, “that whoever invented the Swiss Army Knife obviously felt the two biggest challenges the Swiss Army were likely to face would be lame horses and oral hygiene. Did you know Swiss Army knives…?”
“It is not a bloody Swiss Army knife all right,” Sally interrupted. Anyway, it doesn’t have to be in my bag. It could be strapped to my thigh.” She paused and then added quickly, “And not in a sexy way.”
“Be a bit uncomfortable, though. Especially when you cross your legs.”
Sally rounded on him in exasperation.
“What exactly do you want? I’ve seen you hanging around watching me. You’re a stalker.”
“I am not a stalker. I am just obsessed with you.
“Is there a difference?”
“Well, I am guessing stalkers get more exercise.”
“Look, what do you want from me?”
“I don’t know. I’m from out of town. You look nice, sympathetic. Someone to have fun with. I’d just like to get to know you. Maybe show you the bright lights of Diddlesbury.”
“What both of them?”
“I suppose it does leave a little to be desired on the bright lights front. I’ve always thought that the…”
“Will you please just go away and leave me alone.”
“Don’t be like that. You don’t even know me.”
“Ok. Tell me something fascinating about yourself then.”
Mike thought for a moment then said:
“Emily, I have a little confession to make. I really am a horse doctor but marry me and I’ll never look at another horse.”
Sally was shocked to hear a reference she recognised.
“That’s from ‘A Day at The Races’? Groucho Marx. I love the Marx Brothers.”
“You see. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Getting to know each other. Areas of common interest. I love the Marx Brothers too. My name’s Mike by the way.”
“I’m Sally. Damn. I didn’t mean to tell you my name.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sally.”
He reached across to shake hands but she retreated even further across the bench.
“And this, whatever this is, is not about anything at all,” she said. “This is you getting on my bloody nerves by following me like a demented spaniel. Why don’t you just clear off back to…back to…”
“Carchester. I’m from Carchester. That only has one bright light to be honest and even that hasn’t been replaced since the council cut its budgets but never mind. It always seems to be the case that…”
“Will you please just go away.”
“We could go to a bookshop. Neutral territory. Nice and safe. I know you like bookshops.”
“Yes, I do like…Bloody hell! Have you been following me to bookshops?”
Mike considered this.
“Not following exactly,” he said. “It’s more that I’ve just been in the same general vicinity on a number of occasions when you’ve been book shopping. How did you find “On Chesil Beach” by the way? So sad I thought yet so gripping.”
“I loved it!” said Sally enthusiastically, forgetting for a moment her outrage at being followed. “Poor Florence and ‘her secret affair between disgust and joy.’ Whatever happened to make her so repress…What am I doing? This is not a sodding book club!”
“You know it’s been translated into nine languages?” said Mike. “And twice into Chinese. You see in Taiwan…”
“I don’t care how many bloody languages it has been translated into,” Sally almost shouted. “You’ve been spying on me buying books!”
“Well again ‘spying’ is a bit strong. You know they made “On Chesil Beach” into a film. It’s on at the University film club this weekend. We could go and see it. Are you free on Saturday?” I know you work at the university. Your department is on the main campus next to the Observatory.”
“I suppose you’ve followed me there too.”
“Well not followed exactly. I also work there. In the Experimental Psychology Department. Over on the Riverside campus.”
“If you work at the University,” asked Sally, “why on earth are you bothering to stalk me? That place is full of young, nubile undergraduates willing to sleep with anyone at the drop of a hat, not to mention the drop of a pair of knickers. Most of them are positively gagging to notch up a member of the faculty.”
“Well nubile undergraduates are all very well but, at the end of the day, they’re just like burgers. A nice juicy treat once in a while but you can’t live on them. You soon start to crave something more satisfying.”
Sally laughed despite herself.
“Delicately put,” she said. “So, you see me as a kind of four course gourmet meal? With something nice for afters if you’re lucky?”
Mike was quiet for a moment.
“I see you as I first saw you at the Chancellor’s Garden Party,” he said wistfully. “You were wearing your yellow sun dress and your hair was down and sparkling in the sunshine and I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever set eyes on.”
Sally softened a little.
“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy really and… Actually, I’m not at all sure you are a nice guy really but let’s give you the benefit of the doubt. You might be a nice guy, but I have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t think you do. You live on your own with your two cats and you never seem to go out except to go to work and buy books.”
“That’s not true. I went to a party just last week.”
“That was your nephew’s birthday party. He was six.”
“You have to stop doing that! It’s really creepy.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just become a research fellow at the university. I’m not creepy. I’m just very good at research.”
“Look,” said Sally, ” I understand that moving to a new town is difficult and you are probably lonely but this is not the way to meet someone. You can’t just pick someone out at random and decide they are the most beautiful girl you have ever seen.”
“But you are. And anyway, why not? It’s been going on for centuries in literature and I know you’ve read the books. ‘The Great Gatsby’, ‘Cyrano de Bergerac’, ‘Great Expectations’, ’50 Shades of Grey.'”
Sally looked embarrassed.
“That was a mistake. I thought it was an adult colouring book.”
“Anyway,” Mike pressed on, “what’s wrong with finding someone attractive and attempting to forge a relationship with them? They didn’t call Pip a stalker. They admired his tenacious pursuit of the woman of his dreams.”
“True. But Pip didn’t follow Estella around bookshops and spy on her 6-year-old nephew.” She paused for a moment. “Anyhow,” she asked, “what made you think I was beautiful?”
“It was the yellow dress, the long blond hair with the blue ribbon which perfectly matched your eyes, the blue Jimmy Choo’s the…”
“Just a casual impression then.”
Mike moved a little bit closer.
“Beautiful like you are now,” he whispered, “with your faded jeans and your boots and your hair up in a pink scrunchy. I just think you’re beautiful. What’s wrong with that?”
Sally sighed.
“Nothing I suppose. But you have to stop stalking me.”
“Come to the film with me on Saturday and have dinner with me afterwards. I know you like that little Italian on the corner by the bus stop.”
She gave him a warning sign.
“Sorry,” he continued. “Let’s just go out like normal people and then you can decide if I am a nice guy or not. If not, you’ll never see me again except maybe in the far distance on campus?”
Sally thought for a while and then spoke.
“OK. One date. Saturday night and then no more stalking.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a card which she handed to him.
“That’s my number at the university. Give me a call tomorrow. I need to go.”
She got up.
“That’s great,” said Mike. “So lovely to meet you at last.”
He offered her his hand and she took it gingerly then walked quickly away.
Mike sat back down and watched her disappear across the park. As soon as she was out of sight he took out a notebook and pen.
“Now where are we?” he said to himself flicking through the pages. “Johnson..Johnson..Johnson… Ah yes Sally Johnson. There we go. Done.”
He put a tick against Sally’s name with a flourish.
“OK. Who’s next? Louise Chambers. Zumba, swimming, indoor rock-climbing. I think I know where she’ll be.”
He stood up and headed purposefully towards the Leisure Centre.