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I want Dizzy to stalk me. I want her to link my anonymous posts and chat comments on Youtube. She would find my address and watch me whenever I leave the house. Terrified of the sensation of always being watched, I would go on the run, always looking over my shoulder and and on the move. It would be all for naught. She would find me everytime I moved somewhere new until finally cornering me like a rat. The end of the line. My back up against the wall. She’ll slowly waltz up, a twist of menace and giggly glee. As she stops inches from my face, she speaks: “I found you Larry!”
