Just as good as a rape whistle.

Dear Semi-Denty black pick up truck:

I know there's probably not a lot you can do about your occupants, and for that, I'm sorry. But could you pass along a short message for me? Basically:

1. If they want to pick up chicks, the Walmart parking lot isn't the place to do it.

2. If they really want my phone number, they should do it in a way that doesn't involve cutting me off on purpose, waving their arms, and thinking its cute.

3. The fact that I'm on my way to a gas station and its 20 degrees outside doesn't really help their case either.

Come to think of it, Semi-Denty Black Pick Up Truck, haven't I seen you before? In fact...weren't you the truck that one guy was in who tried to ask for my number at an intersection in the gritty part of Independence? Yes, I'm certain that was you. I never forget a bumper/grill combo. And come to think of it, I think you were the truck that guy was driving through the Steak N Shake Drive thru. You know, the 27-year-old who called my work an hour later and asked me for a date...when I was sixteen?

That's it truck, I'm on to you. Not only are you a cradle robbing pedophile, but you are also a creepy stalker. I know I'm quite the catch, but subtly following me through my various walks of life is really not the way to get my attention. Maybe had you come earlier and approached me like a gentleman then we could have had a decent relationship, but this is just ridiculous. You can't really blame me for being slightly creeped out by your queer random appearances that always manage to happen in the most ambiguous places that seem like they came be right out of a vintage Hitchcock movie. Or maybe from the Sequel of the Ring. Either way, I don't like the way this is playing out. If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to have to request the use of my Dad's box truck. Or my roommate's tractor. Or my friend Jonathan's family truck. You know, the one that took out a freaking bear in Montana. I don't know what your intentions are, black pick up truck, but due to your strange behavior I'm not afraid to pull out the big guns. I don't have to take this, and if you don't lay off I will be more than happy to use my proverbial vehicle rape whistle.

We'll consider this you're warning, black pick up truck. Grow up, acquire some social skills and stop treating girls like the characters in your star trek fan fiction that you keep in your mother's basement.

Kthxbye.

--Melinda