To Kill a Mocking Bird

I am being stalked. And mocked.

For the past several weeks I have been stalked, harassed, mocked and tortured. I have spent weeks hiding, cowering in the shadows and begging for the torture to stop. I have been losing sleep, feeling victimised night after night and I just can't take it anymore.

This morning, after a night of being mocked through restless sleep, I took the kids to school and returned home to confront my stalker. I knew this sinister beast was somewhere in the back yard so I armed myself before heading out back.

As I tiptoed around the corner from the patio into the backyard my heart started racing. What was I doing? I must be crazy to confront this crazed, malicious stalker by myself. What if he attacked me? I am alone here. I have no back-up, no one even knows where I am. Will Shirley notice when I don't show up in the Timportance Drive thru? Will she send help?

As I neared the blind corner I could hear rustling the shrubs outside my bedroom window.I had never laid eyes on my stalker so I wasn't sure what kind of hulking, monstrous troll I was about to face. I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer and rounded the corner swinging. The badminton racket came down hard on the shrub but my stalker was too quick. He instinctively and effortlessly jumped over to the next shrub and continued to sneer and mock me. I leaped forward and took another swing but again he dodged my advance.

This time he crossed the yard and perched on a low branch of the apple tree but that didn't deter me. I was mad as heck and I was not going to take it anymore so I darted across the yard, swinging wildly as I went. He laughed as he skited from branch to branch, finally settling in a tree on the opposite side of the yard.

I collapsed against the apple tree to catch my breath and formulate a plan. I could see him, my mocking stalker, perched high in the tree surrounded by his pals. I looked at my stalker, really seeing him for the first time. He looked just like all of his pals, there was nothing distinct or unique about him except for the mocking sneer that he wore so confidently on his small pointy face.  He was chirping and laughing at me, so sure that  he was safe and out of reach. I felt defeated. My stalker was going to win. And then I saw it, my upper hand, my salvation, my victory.

I slowly reached down and picked up the discarded weapon, careful to make no sudden movements. I raised the NERF Vulcan to my chest and checked the chamber. Three darts, more than enough to make my mark. I raised the gun, taking aim and pulled the trigger. The dart sailed through the air toward its target, sure and strong until a gust of wind knocked it off course, causing it to fall short of the mark. Frustrated, I fire my two remaining rounds, but hit only the lower branches.

I was irritated, furious and running on pure adrenaline. I marched across the yard and shook the tree, venting all my angst in a mighty battle cry. My final act of aggression startled my stalker and his pals, they took flight, flapping chaotically from tree to tree. My battle cry quickly turned to a wail of panic as I realised that I was alone in the yard with a swarm of mad birds. I pulled the my sweater over my head and ran blindly across the yard to the safety of the garage, tripping over toys and bikes along the way.

I slammed the door, locked it (just in case) and continued my flight of terror into the house. I didn't stop running until I was in my bed with the covers over my head. The house was silent except for the sound of the pounding of my heart ... and the mocking chirps of my stalker, who was once again perched in the shrub outside my bedroom window.