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Nothing exciting happened until she checked her phone while on break.“Holy fuck,” she said aloud in the empty break-room.Jess had forwarded a link to Todd’s page. Jess had added a note: “Hmm, guess he pissed SOMEONE off.”When she followed the link, she saw a blurry, but unmistakable, picture of her two new neighbors, clad in black and holding tools aloft.Right under that was the picture of Todd’s fucked up BMW.There was another more recent post that neither Jess nor I had seen at that point.‘FUCKING BULLSHIT! Crazy ass bitch ratted me out to my boss at work AND I have a nasty voicemail from my FUCKING mother! Who the fuck does that!’Scrolling more, she found the photo and caption of her that had sparked Jess’ fury.She dialed Jess.“Jess, what the fuck did you guys do?!” Emma hissed into the phone as soon as Jess answered.“Well, did you ever see the Godfather? You mess with my neighbor, you mess with my whole family. I’m pretty sure it went something like that. I never actually saw it.. Meanwhile, while trying to deny my depravity, I'd voraciously cruise the 'net looking for young models who looked like my Katie, producing copious offerings of seminal discharge into a rapidly dwindling supply of Kleenex tissues. Ultimately, I found myself scanning in photos of my little girl from family albums into JPEG slideshows to fuel my sick fascination. But, I told myself in false pride, at least I've kept the real Katie out of this.Then one weekend my wife took my son, Jimmy, up to the state capital for a math bee.It was Friday night, with just Katie and me at home. We watched a movie on TV, but my pathetic infatuation kept me mainly focused on my fourteen-year-old daughter. I was as hard as calculus, just from gazing at her bare lower back and her denim-clad rear as she lay yet again on the floor in front of my seat on the couch. I guess I planned to indelibly imprint the image in my mind for a beat-off session later that night, but then something happened I'm at a loss to.
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