Carolyn Monroe had an obsessed fan. For years he would write her letters and send her cassette tape recordings of himself discussing their supposed relationship. He felt very strongly that Carolyn loved him as much as he loved her, but that she was afraid to reveal her emotions. In fact, he claimed to have spotted her following him around his neighborhood and lurking outside his apartment. He spent long amounts of time on each tape exhorting Carolyn to stop denying her love for him. He wanted her to approach him the next time she saw him instead of just continuing to pursue him surreptitiously. In the midst of one of his tapes it occurred to him that it might be easier if she just waited for him inside his apartment when he was at work. I could hear the tinkling of the icecubes in his glass of iced tea as he pondered this new notion. By the way, I was the only person who listened to these tapes when they arrived. Carolyn was too sickened by their content to get any amusement out of them at all. And, incidentally, I knew he was drinking iced tea because he always made certain to describe exactly what he was doing, wearing, and eating while he recorded his messages.

Carolyn's fan became progressively enamored of his new idea. He really wanted Carolyn to let herself into his place while he was at his office and wait for him until he got home. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, this gentleman lived in Los Angeles. It was not long before a key to his apartment and a map of his neighborhood arrived in Carolyn's post office box. Of course another cassette tape was in the package as well. This time her fan was in the tub and I could hear him splashing around as he described his apartment and the amenities therein. He told her there was ice cream in the freezer and fresh strawberries in the refrigerator. She was welcome to any of the food in his place. She could also relax in the bathtub or play video games until he got home. He worked from 9AM-5PM Monday through Friday. In a short addendum he also mentioned the exact length of each of his electrical cord extensions and the exact dimensions of his apartment.

So there I was. I shut off the tape recorder and looked at the key I was holding in my hand. Would it be so wrong just to check out his place while he was at work? I love doing weird stuff. Would it really be detrimental to any of our lives if I went over there just once? The short answer to both of those questions was "yes," but I felt compelled to seek another opinion. I called my friend Brian to get his take on the situation.

The following Tuesday Brian and I were in the dude's apartment eating ice cream and playing Nintendo. Everything about the place seemed completely normal. You would never have guessed that its inhabitant spent hundreds of hours narrating messages to a pornstar and had offhand knowledge of the precise measurements of all his extension cords. Even though we found his abode to be very comfortable Brian and I decided to leave well before 5PM so we didn't have to meet him. We left our ice cream dishes in the sink, turned off the TV, and recorked what was left of a bottle of wine.

As we left the apartment we noticed two women in a neighboring unit looking at us with undisguised curiosity. We managed to restrain our laughter until we got back to the car. On the way home I tried to think of any possible repercussions for our actions. It's not really "breaking and entering" if you have a key, is it? After all, he'd given me the key. Well, actually he hadn't. Still, when he arrived home he was just going to think that Carolyn had stopped by. The neighbors might mention that they had seen a busty blonde, (housewives of their ilk would probably throw the term "bimbo" somewhere into their description too), with a pale guy who sported a spiky blonde hairdo.

Hmm..Carolyn's fan might trip out on this. Brian suggested that I tell Carolyn to get a new P.O. box someplace else. I knew he was right so I told Carolyn the whole story when I got home that night. She freaked out. Things got ugly really fast.

I knew I'd done something wrong, but I still wasn't going to let her beat my ass. This altercation turned into a real street brawl - you can see the carnage inside my Playouse now..


- XXOO Tanya