The Observations of Patrick Kraker.

Chapter 3

That night, I didn't sleep, pondering over Homeless Dude's motive. Actually, I'm kidding. I ain't losing my beauty sleep over something like that.

I switched back to liquid paint, as I didn't want to risk painting my clothes crimson from all the blood that would probably come gushing out once I sneezed, fell off my post, and broke my nose.

Status update: nostrils are still metallic.

Although I previously mentioned that I didn't lose any sleep over my question, that doesn't mean I didn't think about it. And I came up with the best plan possible. As cheesy as it sounds, I wrote him a note. To be exact, an anonymous note. Whenever this happens in romance novels- and no I'm not admitting to reading them, let's just say Polly likes to have reading material in the bathroom, I usually just roll my eyes. Until now, I never really appreciated how effective the method actually was. And to add to my anonymity, I cut out letters from the newspaper. We couldn't have him knowing who I was and creating any plans to encase me in cement or lipstick production now, can we?

I froze into position yet again, after placing my genius note in a crack in the patch of pavement where he usually sat, but usually didn't come until 8 a.m. I didn't know or want to know where he lived until then, though it was probably with Satan Lady in that creepy manor of hers.

Homeless Dude strolled to his post and slid down to the pavement. After a minute of idly looking at the passing cars, he noticed the note and picked it up. His eyes slid across the grubby bit of paper.

I know who you are. I can see right past your little façade. I know about you and your cult. However, I have one question: if you wanted to establish a reputation of a do gooder for yourself, why would you pick something like this, something the most would take offence to? Why not helping senior citizens cross the road, instead of dressing up in something so degrading?
Please reply asap, so that the curiosity consuming my soul doesn't compel me to follow you home and attack you in a dark alley.
- Your curious stalker.

You may be wondering why I added the stalker bit.

For kicks and giggles.

To nurture my inner sadist.

To unexpectedly watch his face break into a lazy smile instead of turning pale.

What the heck? Which weirdo smiles at getting a creepy note?

After reading it, Homeless Dude traipsed away, still smiling.

***
I didn't know if a bit of powder got left behind in my nose, but I sneezed again. Unfortunately for me, there was no Mrs. Phinniston this time. Hello face, meet pavement. When I managed to get myself off the pavement (nobody helped me and Homeless Dude had disappeared after my note), slightly disoriented, I was pleasantly surprised to find that my nose was in fact, not bleeding. It just felt a bit like a skinny preteen girl had tried to punch me. (I'm speaking from experience)

I cleaned myself up and got on to work, just in time, because a little girl approached me. Since then, my nose still hurt but it was kind of numb. I picked the rose off my lapel and handed it to her, smiling. After the pedophile incident, I had decided to practice smiling. However, as I handed it to her, her older brother looked at me and tugged her away, even as she protested. Only when a stream of something warm oozed over my upper lip, did I realise that I had a nosebleed. A nosebleed plus smiling at a little girl?

I mentally face palmed.

I was actually surprised that no one had reported me yet.
***
A while later, after I had cleaned up- again, Homeless Dude came back. He placed a note in the same crack, cautiously looking around as he did so. His eyes slid right past me. Then, he proceeded to leave once again.

I didn't immediately blindly run towards the note, probably getting run over in the process, because as much as I wanted to, he could still be watching.

An hour later, I picked up the note, after I earned 2 pounds, on the insistence of a little girl alone. In other words, Daddy's Girl pestered her father into giving me money because I - a direct quote, am apparently really pretty because I sparkle, and she wanted to appreciate me.

Degrading adjectives aside, the thought of finally having an answer lifted my spirits a bit. I read the note.

Dear stalker,
I have a couple a things to say to you. First off, I don't think you'd be able to attack me in a dark alley because I pack one hell of a karate chop. Beware. Next, what cult? Also, why should I answer your question? I don't know you.
P.S: I would prefer it if you wrote it down. Do you know how creepy it is getting a note with newspaper letters?

A/N: Don't forget to vote and comment if you liked it! Also I'm entering this and one of my poems: Paper Planes for the Wattys 2015. All support will be greatly appreciated! This chapter is dedicated to scrawls for writing the best adventure book on Wattpad that I have ever had the pleasure of reading.