but mostly he's just restless.  Little Stalker Boy is outside her house again tonight - hanging in a tree and taking photos as she passes the front window.  He waits for her to go to Meehans.  "That's what she does on tuesdays" he reminded himself proudly.  Usually, he takes the digital camera, "it can manipulate the brightness and saturation of images.  Even when the lights are out I can see most everything in her room", he gleamed over his new toy.  "i'm getting some night-vision goggles soon".  But it was late and Little Stalker Boy sat weary on his branch nibbling an apple.  He was having a dull and restless day and her not having the curtains open anymore just added to his futile anger.  Bored, he swung down and paced the pavement outside the streetlight's fierce glow.  He had been drinking a little, taken from his father's supply in the basement, and was in a retrospective depressing state - started spray kicking stones over the road and swearing because it felt good.  Someone burst out the frontdoor and caught Little Stalker Boy unawares - instinctivly, he toppled in some brush and thorns moments before she skipped by.  "There were some thorns in my skin, I remember that, and they hurt in a different way to usual - mostly I was disgusted and embaressed for letting my guard down and allowing this situation".  He was dissapointed in himself and had to muffle the quiet cries as some blood came out of his body - - that he quickly smeared on her letter.  Sometimes, he wondered why she never stayed behind in prey for the romeo who had been leaving her letters for so many months.  The reason?  "she loved my gifts and didn't want to spoil the image of me she had built up with who I really was.  No one could live up to that.  I am pathetic and she has a website"