Stacy, my eternal and only one, you know that the bond of love we share has always protected me from your foolishness. When you told me we were through, I knew you said so out of fear of your own passion for me. When you told me to leave you alone, I knew you were only testing my loyalty, so I spent my days and nights following you. But Stacy, the restraining order you have filed against me under chapter 813.12 of the state criminal code (Harassment Restraining Orders And Injunctions) is beneath our dignity!
I know you’re just testing me. You need to see if my love for you is indeed as hot and burning as yours is for me, so you’re giving me obstacles to overcome, such as hiding the fact that you’ve moved to 2646 Fenton Drive, #2, and gotten an unlisted phone number, which I had no choice but to impersonate a police officer in order to obtain. I’m telling you, there’s no restraining order I can’t beat, Stacy. I’m yours, and we’re fated to be together.
I know you didn’t want to do it, Stacy. It was that smooth-talking young policeman who came to your old house at 42 Timberview Circle and convinced you that I was obsessed. He made it sound like it was wrong. He said you needed to be protected from me. I was only 16 yards away that night, hiding behind the shrubs to the left of your door, and he couldn’t see me. But I heard you talking to him, and I heard him talking to your brother Kevin.
I’m sorry about Kevin. He shouldn’t have said those things about us. He shouldn’t have questioned our love. I can usually stand the words of others, but Kevin said you didn’t love me, and I can’t bear to hear such lies. Kevin likes hot, spicy chili. You can put a whole bottle of sleeping pills in hot, spicy chili. People will think it was suicide.
We can get through this, Stacy. The court order only lasts a maximum of two years, and can only be renewed if law-enforcement officers have reasonable grounds to believe I’ve engaged in, or, based upon my prior conduct, am likely to engage in any harassing behavior toward you. I have faith that the police will recognize our once-in-a-lifetime love despite your foolish denials. And, if they are blind to our love, I will still be with you even if it means being fined up to $1,000 or imprisoned up to nine months, or both.
The old Jacobsen couple are my friends now. I made a special trip to their church just to meet them. Under subparagraph (6m) of the criminal code, I can visit my friends whenever I want. The Jacobsens live at 2646 Fenton Drive, #4, right next door to you. Their living room wall is your bedroom wall. They gave me lemonade and talked to me about Jesus until I told them to be quiet, threw the lemonade on the floor, and put the empty lemonade glass up against the wall and my ear up against the glass to hear you. I thought about you and how love had found a way for me to be within 500 yards of you and your dwelling or workplace. I was as hard as iron.
Oh, Stacy, I didn’t mean that! I was confused. Somehow, I must have confused this hard iron gun with my intense love for you. You see, the police didn’t see fit to inform me of the provisions of statute 941.29 (Restriction On Firearm Possession And Surrender Of Handguns And Sporting Arms), and, to make the Jacobsens be quiet, I had to show them a gun. That was bad, because now the Jacobsens will tell the police, and the police will arrest me under Chapter 186.8 (Assault With A Deadly Weapon). But don’t worry, Stacy: Someday, we’ll be together, at last. Where I am going now, you’ll follow someday. I love you. Goodbye.
