Someone is Trying To Kill Me

I know this sounds paranoid, but people are trying to kill me. My mental health advisor tells me that I'm over reacting and taking things way too personally. He says I should lighten up. Maybe take some of the blue pills that he recommends for those of us with over active imaginations.

I'm thinking they might be the same blue pills the guy on one of those medical shows on TV took just before he tried to fly from his fourth floor apartment balcony and ended up strapped to a gurney, with two broken legs. They left him sitting in the hall for most of the show, crying to be admitted-claiming he was Canadian and had medical coverage. Sound familiar?

And of course by now we've all heard reports about how dangerous it is to spend any time in a hospital. Some won't even let you visit a patient, in case you catch something there and take it home to your family. It used to be the biggest fear was the gastronomical experience of a Mexican holiday, after eating the cafeteria food.

Here's a good example of why I'm sure people are after me. My neighbor across the road has a sign on his front lawn advising me that he's sprayed toxic chemicals on his grass. If I go near it, I'll suffer serious neurological impairment, which will affect my ability to empty the dishwasher and perform other vital domestic chores.

There is a picture, on the sign, of a stick person inside a red circle with a line across it. I think it's the same symbol the Mafia use to guide out-of-town hit men, with nick names like Vicious Vinny, to the homes of family members, who've gone into the witness protection program.

When I look closely at the figure on the sign, I can see how much it looks like me. Sure they didn't get the face just right, but I recognize my neck and shoulders and the subtle extra girth around the thighs and hips.

The sign is stuck on a wooden post, in the middle of his lawn, and points right at my bedroom window. It's the first thing I see every morning when I open the curtains. If that isn't a threat, I don't know what is.

Other threats to my personal well being materialize. Just the other day someone nearly nailed me at a courtesy crosswalk. They call them courtesy crosswalks because the cars stop to let pedestrians cross if they're courteous drivers. If they're not they try to play a little asphalt pinball with anyone foolish enough to dart across their path. Like bating a mousetrap with cheese.

My near death experience occurred just after I'd returned from the Big City, where they don't like stopping for pedestrians either. They realize, though, that if they run one over it'll really screws up the front end of their Beemer. And as a pedestrian, you begin to take their reluctance to eradicate you for granted.

Anyway, this particular day, like a naive fool, I stuck my hand out and proceeded across the street at the courtesy crossing near the local library. A guy, driving a large domestic sedan, with tinted windows and fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror, shot past me as I reached the middle of the road. He laid on the horn and extended the appropriate finger, out the window, in a less than courteous gesture. Just then another guy zipped by behind me. A little mustard and I'd have been the meat in a Corn Beef on Rye.

Speaking of cars, have you ever wondered where all the rubber goes to off tires? Apparently a lot of it is floating around in the air, as microscopic particles. The good news is that most of it gets filtered out by nose hair. Just one more unrecognized recycling opportunity.

And lately I've become aware of all the jets that happen to fly right above my house. So many pass over that I got up on the roof the other day to check whether there was an arrow, with a sign saying 'Europe This Way'!

Now, some people I know like the way all that exhaust gas turns into pretty pink contrails, as the sun goes down. Myself, I'm content with a boring sunset if it means I can breath the air and the arctic seal population doesnt migrate south to set up house keeping in the neighbor's swimming pool.

And of course, now that smokers have been turfed out of restaurants and bars, theyve ensconced themselves in every outdoor patio in town. I notice that they always check the wind direction, before choosing a table near me, to make sure their smoke drifts my way.

There are so many things to worry about in life and I'm really glad I had the chance to get some of it off my chest. Now if you'll excuse me it's getting late, and I have to go down to the nurse's station and take my blue pills.