Friend Request Intercepted (Excerpt Drop 10)

It goes down in the last 3 drops’ (9,10, and 11-and I am giving sneak peeks into those last 3). So make sure you are caught up on the previous full drops 1 though 8!

“Friend Request Intercepted”


They were methodical about this covert operation. And because of who she is, and how much they had access to (to manipulate everything in their favor); without a chronology (turned book) I would have been looking like a nut and plum fool trying to tell the story in the form of a testament. It was much too much to tell (by mouth). It had to go down (all details) in print, on paper for my “whenever” and “if ever.”

They knew just what the hell to do to handle their functions in every way they possibly could-but then came me. I could just imagine the circles she ran around other people.

That girl meant business about getting what the hell she wanted. She really knows how to get the job, any job-done.

I’ll never forget the time she said to me (when she and I first started in I.M with her as “Sassy”): “Cinamon, you are so-easy…”

At first I was thinking: “Does she mean that like a guy would say a girl is easy or is she saying I’m ‘easy’ to get along with, easy to talk to, or what?”

Now that I look back on it, by way of that covert operation of a hell-room, I know now she probably flirted back and forth with so many people (women especially), who she would get a chance to look at on her lil’ freak staged chatter page bio setup-to see how far she could go, and if it turned out that they were worth the try she set up fake room Escapade Trips or private “hookup meetings” (promising she could be at them in 3 hours, as she did me) then surprise them like a jump out of a cake and get her swerve on. I can’t put it past her, especially now that I know her and knowing how sexual she is-how important it is for her to be able to see, smell, touch, taste, and hear what she wants. She’s obsessively sensual-in the literal sense of sensual’s meaning. Besides, she is  “Janet:” beautiful, sexy, sensual and fine as hell and I don’t know of many men (or women) who would turn her away if she just showed up ready to get her swerve on, after your thinking she was just “{SomebodyYouMetInJanetsChat}

Yeah, she’s the type. How often is it that she could go out into the world and meet somebody new anyways, so this is what she does. Since she can’t be out in the world, so she figures she will bring the world to her.

Knowing how she works this Internet world, and how she makes it work for her (to bring her “life”), just as sure as the last three letters of her real first name, I know with a name like “Ja net” she really probably thinks that the Net world was made exclusively for her-like it was pre-destined.

Yeah…she did this before, I aint the first. I just played the game better and more strategically, and from her point of view; played right in to the fantasy of how she hoped it would be-that’s why she said I was “easy.”

Janet….smh…she was more serious than nine miles of barbed wire fence…


You wanna talk about being more serious than nine miles of barbed wired fence?

Well, I managed to stay away from her longer than I ever have since the beginning of all this (I even shocked myself). I couldn’t believe how good I was hanging in there and sticking to my guns since that fateful August 29th day-it had been almost a whole month now.

I got a lot of work done on the chronology, I was feeling stronger and in better spirits-just feeling whole and at peace altogether.

She too, was doing good herself. No phone calls (anywhere), no paging me, no nothing.

But then…

One day I was sitting at my sit and think library (where I met little Honesty).

At around 3 p.m. my pager went off and the numbers “21” were texted. I got a jolt, and that made my radar go up because my pager code was 2121. I freaked out for a second because I had to be on my toes with her. I couldn’t put anything past her because she was the only thing that presented itself into my life in such a way that I had to always bring to mind, her-first (if ever anything strange happened).

The first thing I thought was that whoever it was, if they were trying to get in to my pager voicemail box; they must had forgotten (or didn’t know) to press 0 first, which lets you into the paging box and then “2121” is what you would have to push in order to listen to my messages.

I thought about how deliberate she was and the fact that she is bold enough to put the code in (as a text-on purpose) just to show that she is still around and “in the know.” Fuck my thirty-day sabbatical, I (still) had no secrets from her, and she will not be ignored into oblivion. (I know her moves).

The only way she could have gotten my pager code was if she gets a list of outgoing calls from my phone number (because of course I checked some of my pages from home). I thought that when a phone is tapped, you only get the area code and seven-digit number, but my dad told me that when a phone is tapped, you get every single digit dialed, (someone else told me the first sixteen digits).

Fuck her.

To avoid carrying my mind any further, I went and got a new pager number and just didn’t check my messages from home with this new pager I had. Back at end of July, I had done away with the cell phone I had gotten around 4th of July because it was pretty much useless trying to keep it (seeing as though I had no privacy on my home phone or it). The damned cell phone was so tapped that each time I would press in a phone number and press “send,” the series of beeps that she was notorious for sending, would automatically beep in my ear until the party I was calling would pick up. By that time, I had been on my 3rd phone model change, and 4th phone number, but would still hear the beeps each time. I was done trying to figure out how somebody on a budget can find out how a 200 million-dollar millionaire had a way do doing and getting anything. It was useless. In her world, where there is a will and a bill, there is a way and someone to pay.

I remembered I was so pissed just thinking about how much control this woman had over my-everything, and how easy it was for her to tap my cell phone service even without me giving her the other 3 new numbers, I just did away with the whole cell phone thing and had them send me a final bill and cut my home phone’s wireless answering service off as well. I only felt secure with my toll-free pager that I could be texted or voice-messaged to, I felt I could have some privacy by way of it.


The morning that I had gone to my sit and think library; I had gotten a message from Janine (who I hadn’t talked to since the end of July).

Janine’s message stated that she wanted us to do lunch or dinner at this new fancy restaurant and how she wanted to get caught up on some things-spend the day together since we hadn’t seen or talked to each other. But before we could even do it, that next late afternoon, she was on my doorbell (unexpected) ringing it like a mad-woman. I opened it and she was standing there breathing hard and staring into my eyes with the dog on her face and she said to me:

“Angie I have to ask you a question. When was the last time you messed with Crazy Ass?” (Janine’s name for Janet. She lost the care, capacity, and respect to call her by name – any name).

“I actually haven’t even talked to her since August 29th to be exact-which has been almost a month now,” I said.

“Wait a minute, I thought the last time I talked to you was at the end of July and you weren’t talking to her no more since then!” she stated.

“Yeah, but shit happened, a lot of things, but now—it’s a wrap for real!-Something serious!” I replied.

“I do not fuck around with her,” I reiterated and assured Janine.

“We had a legendary 3-day fallout August 27, 28 and 29th like you wouldn’t believe-like never before. It’s beyond repair at this point. I’m done. She’s done.” I explained.

“Well I don’t think so,” said Janine. My brows frowned. She stood there shaking her head with her eyes rolled up in her head. She then took a deep breath with her arm on my door hinges and said: “Ok well let me ask you this then, when I left that message on your pager yesterday morning. Where did you check it from, and what time?”

(Those were the kinds of details my sophisticated-thinking friends had to piece together when dealing with me since this thing of mine with Janet. Because you had to use your head and think to weed out any useless or incorrect possibilities in order to get at the truth about her and the things she would do. Janine was already a smart girl-technically and mechanically smart at that. And to be friends with me-up in my world-so closely, you had to be a thinker like Denise or mechanical and technical like Janine).

I replied: “I know Janine…” I nodded…like I was making a confession. I continued: “I checked it from home, and something crazy had happened after that while I was at the library that same afternoon. Somebody (we both know who) texted the first two numbers of my pager’s voicemail code to me, so since then, I got a new number (and I won’t be checking my messages from home anymore). And you know from her intercepting ears, your invite sounded like an invitation for a lunch or dinner date rather than us as ‘friends and chums.’ I’ve given her the cold shoulder for almost a month now, and that’s a record for us. So you know her moves,” I said.

“And that explains it! You know the bitch can’t stand me. I woke up this morning about to go to school to a pair of flat tires! And you know I just moved there. The truck next to mine wasn’t bothered, I only live in a two family house and I aint got but three friends here including you-and no enemies!” yelled Janine.

“Angie, when they fucked up my big paper that I did on your computer and I went on about my way for two whole months: moving, school, taking care of business and minding my own business, my life was fine—no more crazy calls to my house and other silly shit her crazy ass and that silly ass girl were doing, it ceased-like turning water off. Here it is, I take a chance one night and call you two months later, only to wake up to flat tires! No drama and craziness in my life until I reach back out to youuuu!” she pointed at me

“Oh God! This is insane! I’m not faulting you, but you got to do something about this bitch. She’s out of control! She can’t get away with this Angie, she can’t!” she screamed.

I was looking so stupid and feeling a mess because that was the second major evil “incident” that happened with Janine delivered by Janet and her buddies not to mention the countless other evil deed that my other friends knew (and didn’t) know about. And well, mine topped ‘em all. No one was hurting, stressed, angered, and enduring more than me-no one.

Janine always gave me this third-eye feeling that she never believed I was clueless or didn’t have answers from Janet as to why she would do the things she would do to she and my friends-almost like she thought that I was so enamored with Janet so much so, that I was in on things with her and having some laughing good time when she’d do this crazy shit (that was far from true). But Janine, like all my friends; couldn’t believe that if she was supposed to be so enamored with me, why was it that I had no control over her doing crazy shit. Secretly, all of them pretty much felt the way Janine did: that I sat off boo’d up with Janet-laughing and condoning her evil deeds and oh dear God, if they only knew the fights I fought with her crazy ass about all her evil deeds that she would do to send jolts to me and get my attention to patch back in to her.

The idea that Janet could have had Janine’s two front tires flattened was so far-fetched to me, but I had to once again lend an ear to it because of how she is and how she gets things done-I knew it all too well: In her world, where there is a will and a bill, there is a way and someone pay.

My mind was searching hard for any possibility that maybe this time-this wasn’t yet another order put it by Janet but I knew it was no way out. Standing there looking at each other, we both knew all too well-Janet’s moves.

I jogged my memory and told Janine how I remembered at 9:50 that same morning that she got her tires flattened; I got a phone call on my pager and the person didn’t leave a message, instead, they played the screeching sound of an Internet dial-up connection, followed by a series of messages that had been left on my pager from days past; going all at once-several different voices-as if they had been saved, taped and played back to me in some kind of simultaneous sequence. It was weird. I kept replaying the message/s over and over, trying to make sure I heard what I knew I heard-and I heard right. No denying it. It was crazy.

“You’re damned right it was her Angie because it had to have happened between 8 p.m. last night and 9 a.m. this morning. I pulled to my house at 8 last night and stayed in for the evening. I got up about 8 this morning, got dressed and walked out to two flat tires at 9 a.m.! Girl I know this was that crazy bitch, I know it! I know it Angie. If you had told me that you checked my message anywhere else but from your house, I would have to think it was a random act but I already know that bitch don’t like me for whatever reason!” she yelled-accusingly.

“If she would delete a big major college paper of mine on that damned computer of yours, why the hell would she not do something this drastic-especially since y’all aren’t talking…and then she aint heard you and me talking in like forever-so she probably thought I was out of the picture, until I said what I said on your pager THAT YOU CHECKED FROM YOUR HOUSE, THAT HER CRAZY ASS INTERCEPTED AND HEARD!” she took her voice up two octaves.

Furthermore, in addition to that, I was done making calls to get money and towing out of the way at exactly 9:40 this morning, so yes that was her sick ass calling your pager ten minutes later at 9:50 with that weird stuff going on; trying to be funny to let your ass know what she had done! Angie. I know it was her, I know it, I know it! The timing was too perfect and deliberate!”

We sat around talking about this craziness, and I caught her up on what had been going on. I knew that if this was Janet’s doing, she knew for sure that this monstrosity would get me back online if nothing else. I simply refused to however, although I grew more and more nervous about what would happen next because she hated being ignored (that’s for sure). Glenn Close in “Fatal Attraction” had nothing on her. This shit totally like…brought her joy or something-like some sort of sadistic orgasm.

Time for: “Operation Plant Footsteps to Elicit a Response.”

So that during interception of my voicemails [that Janet would was listening to]; when we got over to Janine’s house, I had her leave a voice message on my pager, briefly describing how pissed she was about the tires and all and how she didn’t appreciate it, so that if, or whenever I decided to patch in to Janet (even if I waited another month to patch in) this incident is going to be on their list of things to revisit (while I watch). If Janet did indeed put in for this job to be done, they would brag about it, joke about it, or flat out say it.

What could I do about it anyways?

As I was leaving, we were walking to my car, and I saw her naked trash sitting in the garbage can right next to where I pulled up. The fact that her bank statements and other information was sitting right on top caught my attention, so I asked her why would she throw her personal information on top of naked trash in an open driveway.

She rushed over to the garbage can and started yelling like a crazy woman (again). She then pulled me into the house to where her kitchen garbage can sat with a black garbage bag in it and showed me the whole box of garbage bags-trying to prove to me that she doesn’t throw naked trash out in the garbage can-especially considering how close to the curb the can was placed after being rummaged through-and it wasn’t trash day for her.

It was so bizarre that I gave her the third eye of disbelief this time. She was insistent on showing me that she doesn’t throw naked trash in her cans in, and especially outside. She started digging through [the naked trash] in that outside garbage can…no garbage bag to be found. Someone had not only gone through her trash, but had taken the bag (obviously away from the premises), gone through it, came back, and disposed the [naked] trash back into the can (without the bag). I didn’t know what the significance was of keeping the trash bag-I could only assume that whoever did the job wanted it to be known or didn’t care that it was known they had rummaged through Janine’s trash.

It was getting more Janet-kinda-bizarre by the minute. This one was throwing me.

By now, I was really confused trying to figure this one out; trying hard not to believe that Janet was involved-but it had been a record thirty days that I was gone from her crazy ass and she turned it up. She deliberately and methodically waited for the right friend, and right moment to have the dots of her handiwork all connect to make it known that she was still a presence and force to be reckoned with and at some point in this-she would not be ignored [Ang]!

We knew her moves, but this by far was paparazzi-type professional (and a new one on us).

This “incident” was one I was trying hard for the word “coincidence” despite the fact that by this time, I had done away with that word since knowing Janet.

I peeked, so as to not arouse her any further, and saw that Janine’s name was hidden on the inside of her mailbox rather than the outside and located very close to her window and deck right there on the first floor. With that, I lent the “searching through the trash” theory some credit because the tire-slasher probably needed to make sure they were at the right apartment, slashing the right car’s tires. I then figured it most probably had been by Janet’s instructions; considering the trash was brought back without the garbage bag after finding mail with Janine’s name and address on it-therefore, the right person and the correct address.

Whoever did it was swift, nice and quiet, and was damn sure a professional. Because Janine’s bedroom window was entirely too close to the small driveway where the garbage cans were-one empty, the other-hers: (naked and full).

I did away with any thought of “coincidence.” I had to chop it up as another one of Janet’s extremes, because I knew in the bottom of my heart that she always meant fucking business at all times and by any means necessary.

I told Janine that if I had any extra money over from my check that I would reimburse her for the tires.

She looked at me and shook her head in disbelief and astonishment-about everything. She looked so crazy and felt so violated as she stood there with her hands on her hips and her eyes bulging-looking around the area as if somebody was watching us and as if somehow she was going to lay eyes on that tire-slasher.

All I could do was shake my head as I drove off. It was a crazy feeling.

Janine, however, found a new place to park down the hill hidden in the back of her apartment where she would just have to walk up some steps to get to the back door-at least for a while. Me? All I could do was apologize (again)…

After twenty-too-many coincidences I had to give up being in denial about not giving Janet credit for her handiwork that all her money was paying for. She must’ve had her reasons. Because this same week I was driving down a street in my town called Vine Street and out of nowhere (in a white four-door compact vehicle), comes this guy pulling along the left side of my car as I was slowing down to come to the complete stop at the light at the five-way intersection. He busted the most dramatic U-turn to put himself in a position to be able directly across from me to photograph me at a distance [where he obviously was trying to go undetected] but that didn’t work out for him, because his aggressive drive alongside me was so sudden and dramatic, that it caused me to be alarmed.

While I sat at the light, I watched him from across the street. He grabbed his camera and began taking pictures of me like a mad man. He was so excited to be able to get the pictures that he had this goofy “I’m busted but I don’t give a damn” look on his face. It was bold. I stuck my hand out to try and block him from being able to see my face, but I totally saw his. He had a burned red face, bald head, and he looked just like “Mr. Clean.” It all happened so fast and I was so taken aback, alls I knew was that he definitely busted that U to get those pictures of me like his life depended on it. My first impulse was to yell and curse him out but I was too afraid to do it because I didn’t know if he had a gun. I didn’t get to catch the plate number, but he had out of town licenses plates that I’m almost positive were Maryland, Indiana, or Jersey plates-something with black, white and mostly yellow in them.

Considering what had just happened with Janine and the fact that I was MIA from Janet for thirty days now (not to mention her past commandeering antics and invasiveness), I knew that this, yet again, was another order put out by Janet-who stopped ceasing to amaze me ions ago.

That invisible hand guiding me throughout this thing-helping me out with clues that kept showing up for me by sending Janet jolts to remind her of her evil deeds, and sending me jolts to remind me that I had an omnipotent kind of help in this, showed up yet again…(some time much later).

One night, I fell asleep in my living room and woke up in the middle of the night to an “Extra!” entertainment news program segment. Right smack dead in my face, that same man appeared. He looked just like the “Mr. Clean” guy who I caught taking photographs of me that one day. I thought I was dreaming. I sat up and turned the volume up with the remote only to hear that this guy was a private investigator to the stars. Turns out, his name was Mitch Seflin and (at this particular time) he had been on the case for several stars regarding a Hollywood poser and swindler named Chris Rocancourt who had swindled thousands upon thousands of dollars out of celebrities by pretending to be some Rockefeller heir or some shit like that.

I did my research online and discovered that (amongst several big named celebrities) this swindler had befriended some of the Jackson family and was supposed to purchase a Hummer for a “famous singer” for $125,000.00 (and too was doing favors for him) but never returned the money (or the vehicle). It was obvious in the article that the “famous singer” was Michael Jackson, but even without that tidbit being mentioned; the fact that it was mentioned that this swindler had “befriended and conned some members of the Jackson family” who this Mr. Clean guy was hired by, let me know that this was the same man hired by Janet for little ole’ me. The $64,000.00 question to that was: Why though?

Time for “Operation Plant Footsteps to Elicit a Response” for more reasons other than a pair of flat tires…

Image result for clapper board image

Author: OSFMagWriter

Spitfire . Media Maestro . Writing Rhinoceros .