Story B
Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 8:25 pm
STORY B ~~~~ (top prize winner to be published in Berlin booklet)
Living Next Door to Leonard
As a teenager, I believe I was called challenging.
Growing up as a 'Child of the sixties' with bohemian parents, my displays of will were legendary and refered to as asserting myself or knowing what I wanted out of life. There were no punishments, no boundries to push. I was my parents Goldern Girl and grew beautiful, wilful and wild as a gypsy.
I always did get what I wanted, I became Machiavellian in the art of manipulation. From my first boyfriend, who in the tradition of Raleigh, would throw his coat over a puddle in return for a chaste kiss, to my sexy red sports car - a gift from my parents after squeezing a few tears out of my cynical eyes.
My life developed meaning after hearing Leonard Cohen singing Gypsy Wife. I knew he was singing it for me. I formulated a plan right there and then. I knew what I had to do to make Leonard mine. The plan, however, needed money. Coldly I cast my eye about for a husband who would provide that commodity for me.
Frank fitted the bill exactly, he was in Finance and believed in saving and investing. He was dull company and wasn't too demanding sexually. I could hold it in my mind that I was staying pure for Leonard, because Frank was just a means to an end. Fortunately, Frank had one interesting hobby. His love of skydiving and his £150.000 life insurance policy added up to my being able to move on to step two of the plan.
It was suprisingly easy. I stood beside the open grave with crocodile tears occasionally spilling from under the veil on the cute little pillar-box hat I had worn for the occasion as I mentally counted up Frank's assets. I kept the funeral budget tight, as I am certain Frank would have wanted no lavish display to deplete the money he had left me.
Gerald was 69, I met him by using a little of my inheritance to be seen in all the right places, in the right clothes. My Gucci was worn to the maximum effect, it asserted me as a woman of independant means. I homed in on Gerald, he was putty in my hands. Because of his age -and the fact I had tearfully told the Coroner about his bouts of confusion and the fact he had mistaken his digitalis for the eight vitamin tablets he took daily- A verdict of accidental death was recorded. The Coroner made a special effort to comfort me, saying I must have made his last few years happy.
With over a million in assets, I finally had enough to start my quest to be Mrs Cohen.
The Internet is such a useful tool, don't you think? Some guy called Jarkko published all the information I needed to track Leonard down. I got the best seat in the house for all Leonard's tours, I'm sure he would have noticed me, but he was always giving his full attention to his performance, which is why I love him, he is such a perfectionist.
Yellow Pages provided me with the number of a discreet, high class Private Detective Agency. I placed them on retainer to find Leonard's address. They were pricy but quick.
I jumped on a plane the next day, booked into a local hotel and started my own detective work. Dressing in workman's garb with a cap over my beautiful hair, I aquired a wreck of a van and a spade. I then started digging in a flowerbed near to Leonard's house. After all, who would question a gardener in the street?
Leonard's house was a Colonial masterpeice, exactly like I would have chosen for our life together. My laptop at the hotel informed me Leonard was busy working on a project away from home, so I turned my attentions to his nearest neighbours home. I checked with local realtors, their house was not for sale. That was ok, they would soon see they had no choice but to sell to me.
I carried on digging the flowerbed and managed to grab the garbage before it was collected and throw it in my van. From this I learned many interesting things. Mrs Sanchez had lots of fast food deliveries sent to her late at night, then as my plan escalated I called funeral directors to collect her remains, killed all her flowers with paint stripper and kept calling the local Police reporting intruders on her property.
After three weeks the for sale sign went up. The house cost me nearly all the money I had left from my inheritance.
Last week I moved in. I was living next door to Leonard at last. I was now ready for the final phase, surely when he returned home he would want to meet his new neighbour? I worked out that I could afford the running costs of my new home for a month or so, until my money ran out, but he should fall in love with me before that happens.
LEONARD COHEN HOUNDED
Local legand Leonard Cohen
has been forced to relocate from
his hometown after a stalker subjected
his Housekeeper Mrs Maria Sanchez
(aged 45) to a campaign of terror
The Private Detective Agency gave me the wrong address.
Well, my motto is 'If first you dont succeed, try again'...................And I always get what I want.
Living Next Door to Leonard
As a teenager, I believe I was called challenging.
Growing up as a 'Child of the sixties' with bohemian parents, my displays of will were legendary and refered to as asserting myself or knowing what I wanted out of life. There were no punishments, no boundries to push. I was my parents Goldern Girl and grew beautiful, wilful and wild as a gypsy.
I always did get what I wanted, I became Machiavellian in the art of manipulation. From my first boyfriend, who in the tradition of Raleigh, would throw his coat over a puddle in return for a chaste kiss, to my sexy red sports car - a gift from my parents after squeezing a few tears out of my cynical eyes.
My life developed meaning after hearing Leonard Cohen singing Gypsy Wife. I knew he was singing it for me. I formulated a plan right there and then. I knew what I had to do to make Leonard mine. The plan, however, needed money. Coldly I cast my eye about for a husband who would provide that commodity for me.
Frank fitted the bill exactly, he was in Finance and believed in saving and investing. He was dull company and wasn't too demanding sexually. I could hold it in my mind that I was staying pure for Leonard, because Frank was just a means to an end. Fortunately, Frank had one interesting hobby. His love of skydiving and his £150.000 life insurance policy added up to my being able to move on to step two of the plan.
It was suprisingly easy. I stood beside the open grave with crocodile tears occasionally spilling from under the veil on the cute little pillar-box hat I had worn for the occasion as I mentally counted up Frank's assets. I kept the funeral budget tight, as I am certain Frank would have wanted no lavish display to deplete the money he had left me.
Gerald was 69, I met him by using a little of my inheritance to be seen in all the right places, in the right clothes. My Gucci was worn to the maximum effect, it asserted me as a woman of independant means. I homed in on Gerald, he was putty in my hands. Because of his age -and the fact I had tearfully told the Coroner about his bouts of confusion and the fact he had mistaken his digitalis for the eight vitamin tablets he took daily- A verdict of accidental death was recorded. The Coroner made a special effort to comfort me, saying I must have made his last few years happy.
With over a million in assets, I finally had enough to start my quest to be Mrs Cohen.
The Internet is such a useful tool, don't you think? Some guy called Jarkko published all the information I needed to track Leonard down. I got the best seat in the house for all Leonard's tours, I'm sure he would have noticed me, but he was always giving his full attention to his performance, which is why I love him, he is such a perfectionist.
Yellow Pages provided me with the number of a discreet, high class Private Detective Agency. I placed them on retainer to find Leonard's address. They were pricy but quick.
I jumped on a plane the next day, booked into a local hotel and started my own detective work. Dressing in workman's garb with a cap over my beautiful hair, I aquired a wreck of a van and a spade. I then started digging in a flowerbed near to Leonard's house. After all, who would question a gardener in the street?
Leonard's house was a Colonial masterpeice, exactly like I would have chosen for our life together. My laptop at the hotel informed me Leonard was busy working on a project away from home, so I turned my attentions to his nearest neighbours home. I checked with local realtors, their house was not for sale. That was ok, they would soon see they had no choice but to sell to me.
I carried on digging the flowerbed and managed to grab the garbage before it was collected and throw it in my van. From this I learned many interesting things. Mrs Sanchez had lots of fast food deliveries sent to her late at night, then as my plan escalated I called funeral directors to collect her remains, killed all her flowers with paint stripper and kept calling the local Police reporting intruders on her property.
After three weeks the for sale sign went up. The house cost me nearly all the money I had left from my inheritance.
Last week I moved in. I was living next door to Leonard at last. I was now ready for the final phase, surely when he returned home he would want to meet his new neighbour? I worked out that I could afford the running costs of my new home for a month or so, until my money ran out, but he should fall in love with me before that happens.
LEONARD COHEN HOUNDED
Local legand Leonard Cohen
has been forced to relocate from
his hometown after a stalker subjected
his Housekeeper Mrs Maria Sanchez
(aged 45) to a campaign of terror
The Private Detective Agency gave me the wrong address.
Well, my motto is 'If first you dont succeed, try again'...................And I always get what I want.
.
. Sets the stage ~ immediately ~ for anything to come, and come it did 
! 
! "Bohemian," likewise gets my attention ~ the [seemingly] deeper, purer, more exotic, original form of "hippie." 
]. 
!
; almost 11:30 PM now and time for bed.] 
: 
.