Here in Peep Town
My circus adventures in the midst of San Francisco's criminal mob of homosexual Peeping Toms
I’ve tried to remain objective in recounting my adventures. Nevertheless, I'd be less than truthful if I tried to pretend that none of the events I've chronicled has ever affected me.
A week after my home was invaded by a phony plumber and his accomplice, anger got the best of me.
I'd just finished dinner. Suddenly I was gripped by a fury as powerful as it was self-righteous. I stripped down to my underwear, grabbed my unloaded gun, and stormed out of my apartment hell-bent on wreaking havoc. I headed upstairs on a mission to rape, burn, pillage, and destroy.
I pounded on my upstairs neighbor's door. I knew a young woman lived there. She opened the door.
"If you give me any trouble I'll rape you," I menaced.
She gave me a pitying look. I came to my senses. I apologized as best I could and assured her I was aware that the only thing I was accomplishing was making a fool of myself.
"I'd call the police," she said, "except I feel sorry for you."
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