Update: April 16, 2022

Tomorrow is Easter.

Easter, like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Mother's day is one of the worst days of the year. A day that celebrates children and motherhood. On November 14, 2013, while I was 8 month pregnant, and putting bags on the back seat of my car, three still unidentified attackers, brought golf clubs down on my back, breaking my spine and murdering my baby. I am legally blind and almost deaf, so I neither heard nor saw them coming. I read lips, so you must be facing me for me to hear you. Bring legally blind, you also must be less than 3 feet in front of me for me to see your lips, to know you are talking. Because of this it was very easy for them to sneak up behind me while I leaned into my car, putting bags on the seat.

They broke 3 vertebrae in my spine, the shattered bones severing my spinal column, permanently damaging many nerves. Because of this nerve damage I have limited use of my left arm and hand, difficulty breathing, my bladder and intestines no longer function properly requiring adult diapers, massive tremors in both hands prevent me from being able to do basic things like brush my hair or hold a spoon to eat. These are just things from the nerve damage. 

Additionally they broke my pelvis, my hips, and my knees.

I was paralyzed for 5 months. It took me 18 months to relearn to walk. Today I can walk on a very limited basis, aided by a cane, but every step is seeking pain, like lightning bolts going through my leg, across my pelvis and up my spine.

Because of this I was bedridden from 2013 to 2015. And all of that time I had no use of my hands, so I was not online either. And thus was unaware that during that time, a group of locals set to social media to build up massive slanderous rumors about me. They created a huge fairy tale meme of me being an Erotica author, a porn star, a transvestite, a male to female transgender, gay, and an alien abductee. I am none of those things but they spent 3 years, on hundreds of accounts on Facebook and Twitter, many of them fake "Eelkat" accounts where they were pretending to be me, building up this massive slanderous web of lies about me, and I had no idea they were doing it, until October 2021, 9 years after they started doing it.

April 10, 2015 a group of 74 locals, many of them wearing ku klux klan white hooded robes, arrived at my farm. 14 of them held me, Ben, my mother, and one of my 3 younger brothers down on the ice and snow while holding guns to our heads, while the others used cinder block bricks and a metal pole device with wire loops on the end, to beat and behead, 10 of my 12 foster children, then nail their heads to my door. The youngest was 4 years old. The oldest was 16 years old. They chanted "too gay for the family friendly town of old Orchard Beach" while accusing me, my pink Volvo, my pink motor home, and Ben of being gay, transgender, transvestite, and citing that guys were not allowed in Maine.

THIS is what gay haters in Maine do to people they THINK, might maybe, be gay, even though they are not.

No man, woman or child is safe in Maine, so long as these murders walk free. They will kill anything they determine to be gay, even if it is not, as can be seen my the murder of my children.

They also had hundreds of paperback copies of my books, burning them in a huge bonfire on my lawn while calling them gay Erotica and calling mean Erotica author and porn star. (I'm an author, I write a travel blog style series about a homeless man who backpacks his way across Maine, there is no sex in the series. I'm a Mormon, I've never written a sex scene.)

My family was murdered and I am crippled for the rest of my life, because of this group who has been slandering me on social media. But, at the time of these two attacks (November 14, 2013 and April 10,2015) me and my family were unaware of these slanderous rumors the locals of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine were spreading not only on Facebook and Twitter, but by word of mouth around town as well.

May 2021, I started walking around town again, for the first time since being paralyzed 9 years ago on November 14, 2013, and it quickly became apparent something was seriously wrong with the locals.

I was unable to walk my dog on Main Street, Bradbury Street, Harvey Street, or Cutts Street Biddeford, where I have lived since becoming paralyzed, but not before gone outside, because of being paralyzed and bedridden and unable to walk until now…

I was unable to walk my dog on Main Street, Bradbury Street, Harvey Street, or Cutts Street Biddeford without being attacked, pushed off the sidewalk by random strangers running up to me and grabbing my cane and using it to push me in the road in front of cars while accusing me of being gay, transgender, or transvestite. Screaming "transvestite freak" while throwing rocks at me. Group of women joggers stopping to surround me and harass me while saying guys aren't allowed on their street. 

October 2021, my Volvo returned to my driveway after 3 years of being completely rebuilt, after the February 2019 attack on it with baseball bats completely destroyed it. Within 5 minutes of starting to repaint it, 2 men showed up in my driveway yelling about aliens and demons and Etoile and because of this I stopped painting fish on the door, painted over the fish and painted a portrait of Etiole instead. 

November 19, 2021 the red haired American woman from the 2016 High Street attack on my navy blue pick up truck, showed up on the porch here on Main Street. 

The location is 409 Main Street, the big white farmhouse Victorian on the 3way corner of Harvey Lane and Cutts street, right at the train tracks. It has 2 driveways one on Main Street and one on Harvey. There are multiple porches. It's the porch on the Main street side, that goes up the driveway alongside the abortive cedar tree hedge, where I park my painted Volvo. That porch is the one this woman shows up on. 

It's an elderly couple and mother in law who live there at that porch.  When they leave for work, this woman shows up when they are not home and stands on the porch bellowing like a fog horn screaming death threats at me, yelling crazy demon and alien slander about Etiole, making the claim of putting a bomb in the tail pipe of my car, screaming about suicide demons and evil eye curses, and yelling about someone named Todd Murphy (I don't know who that is, I get the impression he's a relative or boyfriend or ex of hers or something, but I don't any one by that name, so I don't know who he is. I don't know who she is either.) She looks to be maybe 30s to 40s aged. 

She was here again yesterday. She was bragging that she got a fight started with my mother and the Atwaters on Facebook, laughing about how easy it is to get my mother and her ex fighting and the old woman was giving her hell and telling her to get off the Atwaters Facebook and leave them alone. 

This happened less then an hour after my mother made the claim that a woman of the same short haired blond description, assaulted her and my father at an ATM machine, the blond woman claiming to my mother to be my father's girlfriend, my father claiming he never saw her before. 

All this happened on April 10, 2022, the 7 year anniversary of the murder of my foster children, and the blond woman who was here in my driveway after the ATM attack was bragging the anniversary is why she is instigating the fighting between my parents. 

I did not see the ATM attack, so, I do not know what happened other then what my mother and father are saying. 

I did however see her here in my driveway.

She does not live here. She's shows up in a silver pick-up truck driven by a small skinny blonde man. No one here at this building knows who she is.

There is another blonde woman, older sometimes with her. I do recognize the older woman. She's one of the November 14, 2013 golf club attackers. The one the others who were with her called "Claire". She looks to be in her 60s. Usually wears a blue denim button down man's worksheet as a coat. She sometimes drives a gold Volvo suv around 2004vintage, sometimes a silver Subaru suv, sometimes a mega sized white Nissan 4 door white pick-up truck, and sometimes a pine dark green pick up truck. She frequently has another older woman with her, who calls herself "Kendra" and has very, very long natural red curly hair, sometimes she wears big Janis Joplin glasses and sometimes cyberpunk cyclops lime green glasses, she frequently carries a small white poodle dog. The dog is often wearing either a purple dragon or a black skeleton costume. These 2 older women and a younger bald man are the 2013 golf club attackers who murdered my baby. This new younger blond woman and the 5 who are often with her, appear to be their relatives. The FBI believes they are part of a drug gang from Connecticut that call themselves "The Cyr Clan". According to the FBI the Cyr Clan was a gang that my uncle Bruce was involved with back in the 1960s in Boston before I was born. The FBI believes Bruce pissed them off in the early 2000s and that's what brought them up here to Maine.

The FBI believes they were after either one of Bruce's daughters or one of Bruce's sisters with both the November 2013 and April 2015 attacks.

One of Bruce's daughters also lives on Portland Ave in Old Orchard Beach and she also has a pink motor home. So there are TWO pink motor homes on the same street. This particular daughter of Bruce IS in fact a porn star. She's a pole dancer for a top less bar.

In 2016, there was another large scale attack, near duplicate to the April 10, 2015 attack. I never talk about it because it didn't happen to me. It happened to Bruce's daughter across the street from me. The attack on her family was bigger, bolder, and bloodier, than the attack on my family the previous year.

In 2017, a third similar attack happened in Biddeford to one of Bruce's sisters. Again I don't talk about it because it didn't happen to me.

Like I've said before there is A LOT MORE going on, then what you hear me talking about. I don't talk about what has happened to several of my cousins and their families both the Atwater cousins and the Murphey cousins- because it is not my place to do so. That's why you ONLY hear me talking about what directly happened to me personally and never mentioning the rest.

And I've not said everything that happened to me. A lot more has happened to me then you hear about because the FBI has specifically requested I don't talk about specific aspects of what happened to me and my children, because a lot was never released to the public, because they want to see who knows what. Certain things no one in the public should know about and knowing those things marks you as involved. This new young blonde woman KNOWS several of those things that were not released to the public and yells those things. Which means she is VERY INVOLVED with the murder of my children. 

Like I said until summer and fall of 2021 when started walking again for the first time in 9 years, I was unaware of the local gossip that was falsely accusing me of being gay, falsely accusing me of being transgender, falsely accusing me of being transvestite, falsely accusing me of being a porn star, falsely accusing me of being an Erotica author, or falsely accusing me of being an alien abduttee. 

I have lived here since 1975. You people know me. You people knew my murdered children. You people know I'm a cis female. You people know I'm not gay. I have published 138 novels and more then 2,000 short stories since 1978, and I  have sold 27k copies of every one of them to you people who come to my house and buy them in person, so you've read my books and know they are not Erotica. You people know I've been a devoted orthodox LDS Mormon my whole life, and that I've been with Ben for 37 years, so you know I'm not a porn star. 

What is wrong with you people? My family was murdered and I have spent 9 years recovering from medical hell, and I go outside for the first time in 9 years and find you people who know me have all devolved into gay hating, sex spewing, gibberish slandering gossips spreading vile, evil, malicious rumors and lies that you yourselves know to be untrue?

No wonder not a single one of you have helped my family through any of this. No wonder not a one of you ever once visited me at the hospital or my home after I got out of the hospital and couldn't go outside because I couldn't walk. 

You don't see me for 9 years because I'm bedridden and you're all to cold hearted to stop by and check in on me, and you spend that 9 years spinning wild, crazy transphobic, gay hating, sex filled lies about me?

What is wrong with you people?

You all let some stranger, who very likely IS the murderer, convince you of crazy ass slandering lies, that you people know to be untrue. 

You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves. 

Every resident of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine,  you all ought to be ashamed of what you have spent the last 9 years doing.

This new younger blonde woman, she's the one who keeps saying my car has a suicide demon in it and yelling about Todd, saying my car caused him to die.

I don't know who she is, but she's the same one who used to show up at 27 High st, also Biddeford and scream "nasty bitch" at me and acuse me of being an Erotica author and porn star. (Which she did during several Witcher 3 livestreams on Twitch, you can see her doing it if you go back and watch my VOD). I am neither an Erotica author or a Porn star, and she had throughout 2016 to 2019 arrived at High st with 5 others, one a blond man with a silver pick-up truck, one a black man with a yellow Mitsubishi with new York plates, one a very obese woman with blond Shirley Temple sausage curls, and the other two hooded men with a navy blue Buick sedan. If you remember the Christmas Eve 2016 livestream when the gang attacked my high st apartment and screaming "transvestite freak" that's them. This that same woman who also slanders me by calling me transvestite and transgender, which I am neither. I am a cis female, I've had 7 miscarriages, and the 1 baby that made it full term was murdered November 14, 2013 by 3 people with golf clubs, who are suspected to be, these same people. 

One day when I went downstairs to get the mail on high st, a mailbox that was in the lobby and you had to go through 2 sets of doors and foyers to get to, she had her hand in the mailbox and when I came out the door she yelled "I wasn't stealing your mail" threw our mail on the ground and ran off.

She knows the Martals, (Aunt Barbara ex, uncle Paul Martal,  the one in prison for building the Boston Marathon bomb in 2013, Mike's father, those Martals) she was staying with them for a few months in 2016. Is somehow connected to Barbara (the one who wrote all those emails in 1997 pretending to be me, when I did not yet have email or internet or a computer at the time, and I had not yet heard of email and didn't even know what email was, back when Barbara wrote all those alien abduction emails about Etiole and pretending I wrote them.)

She has short straight blond hair and sometimes dyes it dark red or purple. I know she follows both me and my mom and most of the Atwaters and my 3 younger brothers (though not my 2 older brothers as the oldest is in prison and the 2nd oldest is dead) on Facebook because she keeps saying that "I read on Facebook…" when she's in my driveway.

She shows up at Walmart to yell at me sometimes, and sometimes shows up while I'm walking Mickey. She talks about Etiole and White Monkey a lot when yelling, which is strange because that's stuff Brucie and Daddy used to write in their letters to Bishop Morgan back in Cape Elizabeth in 1990s. 

I'm not the one who calls him Etiole that's always been Bruce and Barbara who did that. I know his real name and use his real name.. They don't know his real name. And my father is only one who uses the term White Monkey. The white monkey was Helen Pearlys pet back in 1970s, it had nothing to do with Etoile, I don't know why he keeps saying it does.. My father is the only one who ever makes that connection. I've never called Etiole a demon or alien, again that has always been my father, Barbara and Brucie who said the alien and demon stuff. I don't believe in aliens or demons, but they do. (Etiole if you don't know is a local elderly homeless man who has backpacked around New England since 1953, and since 1978 I let him camp on my farm in Old Orchard Beach when he's in the area. He's covered with scars from WW2 and they call him an alien and demon because of his scars. They refuse to believe he is a human, which just goes to show how absolutely stupid they are.)

In November an elderly man came over and started asking me why I was emailing him about Etiole and I'm not, I don't use email. He said he was getting over 300 emails a day about Etiole all claiming to be from me. He said there are hundreds of email addresses getting copies of this email. You remember when Barbara and Brucie used to send emails back in 1997 claiming they were from me but we didn't have computer or internet back then? I think it might be Barbara sending those emails again like she did back then. I can't think of who else could be doing it.

This sometimes blond, sometimes red hair, sometimes purple hair woman, also mentions these emails when she is in my driveway yelling at my Volvo at 409 Main street. 

FBI agent Andy Drewer has found and shut down, so far 27 Facebook accounts, all pretending to be me. He said all of them were owed by Brucie. These fake "Eelkat" accounts appear to be the source of a lot of what this blond woman says and is suspected that she may be one of the people behind writing them.

Keep in mind, Brucie is dead. He may have started those Facebook accounts, but he ain't the one writing them. He died 3years ago.

Mervin Bruce Atwater died from Covid19 on November 24, 2019.

The fact remains you ARE impeding an FBI investigation into the murder of my family, and only someone involved would have any reason to do that. ONLY someone connected to the murderer would have a motive to try to stop the FBIs investigation. That makes you an accessory to murder. You make yourself look VERY GUILTY of being involved every time you spread slanders about me, my car, or Etiole. 

Do consider that the source of your slander in all likelihood is the murderer, please tell FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street, the name of the person who is telling you to slander me.

And now tomorrow is Easter. 

A day when mothers take their children on Easter egg hunts.

My children are dead.

My children were murdered. 

And you people have spent the last 9 years making fun of that.

Think about THAT tomorrow when you are out on Easter egg hunts with your babies.

Think about how YOU would feel if it was YOU. How would YOU feel if it had been your baby who was murdered and this entire town was spreading bullying slanderous lies about YOU.

If you know who this blond woman is, please tell FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street. She is wanted for questioning about her connection to the November 14, 2013 murder of my baby and attempted murder of me, and the April 10, 2015 murder of my foster children and the September 26, 2016 hit and run attack on my car and the February 2019 vandalism to 27 High st apartment building, and the November 2021 attack on my Volvo and the March 10, 2022 attack on my Volvo and the April 10, 2022 ATM attack on my parents. 



Update April 11, 2022: Do you know who this woman is?

This woman that my mother is talking about, have any of you ever seen her? Does anyone know who she is?

It isn't that woman who keeps coming on the porch and yelling at my car is it? Do any of you know who the woman attacking my car is?

The location is 409 Main Street, the big white farmhouse Victorian on the 3way corner of Harvey Lane and Cutts street, right at the train tracks. It has 2 driveways one on Main Street and one on Harvey. There are multiple porches. It's the porch on the Main street side, that goes up the driveway alongside the abortive cedar tree hedge, where I park my painted Volvo. That porch is the one this woman shows up on. 

It's an elderly couple and mother in law who live there at that porch.  When they leave for work, this woman shows up when they are not home and stands on the porch bellowing like a fog horn screaming death threats at me, yelling crazy demon and alien slander about Etiole, making the claim of putting a bomb in the tail pipe of my car, screaming about suicide demons and evil eye curses, and yelling about someone named Todd Murphy (I don't know who that is, I get the impression he's a relative or boyfriend or ex of hers or something, but I don't any one by that name, so I don't know who he is. I don't know who she is either.) She looks to be maybe 30s to 40s aged. 

She was here again yesterday. She was bragging that she got a fight started with my mother and the Atwaters on Facebook, laughing about how easy it is to get my mother and her ex fighting and the old woman was giving her hell and telling her to get off the Atwaters Facebook and leave them alone. 

This happened less then an hour after my mother made the claim that a woman of the same short haired blond description, assaulted her and my father at an ATM machine, the blond woman claiming to my mother to be my father's girlfriend, my father claiming he never saw her before. 

All this happened on April 10, 2022, the 7 year anniversary of the murder of my foster children, and the blond woman who was here in my driveway after the ATM attack was bragging the anniversary is why she is instigating the fighting between my parents. 

I did not see the ATM attack, so, I do not know what happened other then what my mother and father are saying. 

I did however see her here in my driveway.

She's the one who keeps saying my car has a suicide demon in it and yelling about Todd, saying my car caused him to die.

I don't know who she is, but she's the same one who used to show up at 27 High st, also Biddeford and scream "nasty bitch" at me and accuses me of being an Erotica author and porn star. (Which she did during several Witcher 3 livestreams on Twitch, you can see her doing it if you go back and watch my VOD). I am neither an Erotica author or a Porn star, and she had throughout 2016 to 2019 arrived at High st with 5 others, one a blond man with a silver pick-up truck, one a black man with a yellow Mitsubishi with new York plates, one a very obese woman with blond Shirley Temple sausage curls, and the other two hooded men with a navy blue Buick sedan. If you remember the Christmas Eve 2016 livestream when the gang attacked my high st apartment and screaming "transvestite freak" that's them. This that same woman who also slanders me by calling me transvestite and transgender, which I am neither. I am a cis female, I've had 7 miscarriages, and the 1 baby that made it full term was murdered November 14, 2013 by 3 people with golf clubs, who are suspected to be, these same people. 

One day when I went downstairs to get the mail on high st, a mailbox that was in the lobby and you had to go through 2 sets of doors and foyers to get to, she had her hand in the mailbox and when I came out the door she yelled "I wasn't stealing your mail" threw our mail on the ground and ran off.

She knows the Martals, (Barbara ex, uncle Paul Martal,  the one in prison for building the Boston Marathon bomb in 2013, Mike's father, those Martals) she was staying with them for a few months in 2016. Is somehow connected to Barbara (the one who wrote all those emails in 1997 pretending to be me, when I did not yet have email or internet or a computer at the time, and I had not yet heard of email and didn't even know what email was, back when Barbara wrote all those alien abduction emails about Etiole and pretending I wrote them.)

She has short straight blond hair and sometimes dyes it dark red or purple. I know she follows both me and my mom and most of the Atwaters and my 3 younger brothers (though not my 2 older brothers as the oldest is in prison and the 2nd oldest is dead) on Facebook because she keeps saying that "I read on Facebook…" when she's in my driveway.

She shows up at Walmart to yell at me sometimes, and sometimes shows up while I'm walking Mickey. She talks about Etiole and White Monkey a lot when yelling, which is strange because that's stuff Brucie and Daddy used to write in their letters to Bishop Morgan back in Cape Elizabeth in 1990s. 

I'm not the one who calls him Etiole that's always been Bruce and Barbara who did that. I know his real name and use his real name.. They don't know his real name. And my father is only one who uses the term White Monkey. The white monkey was Helen Pearlys pet back in 1970s, it had nothing to do with Etoile, I don't know why he keeps saying it does.. My father is the only one who ever makes that connection. I've never called Etiole a demon or alien, again that has always been my father, Barbara and Brucie who said the alien and demon stuff. I don't believe in aliens or demons, but they do.

(Etiole if you don't know is a local elderly homeless man who has backpacked around New England since 1953, and since 1978 I let him camp on my farm in Old Orchard Beach when he's in the area. He's covered with scars from WW2 and they call him an alien and demon because of his scars. They refuse to believe he is a human, which just goes to show how absolutely stupid they are.)

In November an elderly man came over and started asking me why I was emailing him about Etiole and I'm not, I don't use email. He said he was getting over 300 emails a day about Etiole all claiming to be from me. He said there are hundreds of email addresses getting copies of this email. You remember when Barbara and Brucie used to send emails back in 1997 claiming they were from me but we didn't have computer or internet back then? I think it might be Barbara sending those emails again like she did back then. I can't think of who else could be doing it.

This sometimes blond, sometimes red hair, sometimes purple hair woman, also mentions these emails when she is in my driveway yelling at my Volvo at 409 Main street. 

FBI agent Andy Drewer has found and shut down, so far 27 Facebook accounts, all pretending to be me. He said all of them were owed by Brucie. These fake "Eelkat" accounts appear to be the source of a lot of what this blond woman says and is suspected that she may be one of the people behind writing them.

Due to the incident yesterday it is now also believed that she is the mystery blond woman who pretends to be my father's girlfriend and harassed my mother for no reason other then to get a laugh on watching my mother fight with my father (something they do quite violently in public places, in stores, just everywhere.)

If you know who this blond woman is, please tell FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street. She is wanted for questioning about her connection to the November 14, 2013 murder of my baby and attempted murder of me, and the April 10, 2015 murder of my foster children and the September 26, 2016 hit and run attack on my car and the February 2019 vandalism to 27 High st apartment building, and the November 2021 attack on my Volvo and the March 10, 2022 attack on my Volvo and the April 10, 2022 ATM attack on my parents. 



Update: April 10, 2022, big violent attack, as police and FBI expected.

Today is the 7th anniversary of the murder of my family. Remember I said to watch who does what today?... My father just beat the hell out of my mother, tried to kill her. She is right now refusing to call the police. My mother claims she caught my father with a girlfriend he's had for several years now. But near as I can tell, all he did was stop to tell some random stranger how to use the ATM machine. Note, they got divorced in 1994, my mother left my father for another man, left the other man for another man after that, and left the next man for Wayne. She's been with 2 other men (possibly more) since Wayne. She has not been a part of my father's life for 30 years, but feels the need to control his life and harass him on extreme violent levels. If he does have a girlfriend, so what? She left him 30 years ago.

Wayne died during the cat court case, the 2nd one, when he sued my mother for stealing his cats and putting them in my motorhome. Wayne's father, 8 of his cats, and then Wayne himself each died a few weeks apart all from rat poison. Wayne's daughter sued my mother claiming my mother put rat poison in their food.

The fbi believes my mother did kill Wayne and his cats and believes that's why she put his cats in my motorhome. Fbi believes my mother was one who called police April 10, 2015, expecting them to arrest me, take the motorhome, and return the cats to her. She did not expect police to take cats. All the harassment and vandalism of my mom's cars is believed by fbi to be Wayne's daughter friends and relatives and family.

My family, my children were murdered in 2 attacks, one on November 14, 2013 and one on April 10, 2015, both attacks are believed by the FBI to have been attacks that were intended on my mother and the people hired mixed me and her up.

April 10, is my mother's father's birthday by the way, David Henry Atwater, it's WHY she does everything she does, all her wild crazy vandalisms to people on April 10 every year since the 1950s.


April 6, 2022 update, as the attacks on my family and property continue and now more people are in the hospital

Daddy has sepsis and they keeping him in hospital for a few days.

Sepsis is very bad.

That's what I had.

You can die a few hours after it sets in if not treated.

When I was in the hospital in 2014.

That's why I was in the hospital.

I had surgery for it in march 2015.

That was the surgery on my arm.

Sepsis was in a major artery in left arm to heart. 

Side effect from when I was in hospital November 2013 when I was in wheelchair and February 2014 when I was on crutches relearning how to walk. Doctors was focused on my hip and not my spine. They didn't find the source of infection until until the mri in June 2016. 

Sepsis is why I can't walk without cane and why my lungs are messed up and why I have tremors and can't use my hands good anymore. Sepsis infection was so back it damaged my nerves. I was scheduled for spinal column surgery September 2016, they sent me to a neurosurgeon who was supposed to be top brain surgeon in New England and he did more mri and then canceled surgery because damage to my vertebrae (from golf club attack November 2013, which is what caused all of this, including the Sepsis and is the attack that brought the fbi here they think Mark wife did it but college had no security cameras at the bug light parking lot, they investigating Mark family, Barbara family,  and Brucie family. Charges of murdering my baby and attempted murder of me) is so bad. Shattered vertebrae bone fragments are severed into my spinal column nerve bundle at the sacroiliac joint where the hip and pelvis connect to spine. Neurosurgeon said he can't operate because of how nerve damage is, said if he removed bone fragments I would be paralyzed from neck down. But that is also when the source of Sepsis infection was found to be in my spine and not my hip, and that is when it finally went away because they were able to target the correct place to fix the infection.

Mark’s wife is the #1 suspect the FBI is watching, because, according to the FBI, this mysterious Mark guy, whom I have never met, never heard of prior to this, have never talked to, and have never seen, so I have no clue who he or his wife are… according to the FBI, he is friends with my mother, but only via her FaceBook account, where she hired him to put in a septic system, then gave him MY address in Old Orchard, while making the claim that SHE owned both MY land and MY motorhome, and when he asked for a picture of her so he would know who she was, she gave him a picture of ME, not herself.

According to FBI agent Andy Drewer THIS is the reason why the backhoe was driven over my house August 8, 2013 and why the golf club attackers attacked me on November 14, 2013.

According to the FBI, my mother was trying to get my land so she could sell it to use the money for a down payment on a house in Kennebunk and she used this Mark guy as her pawn to do it, by fighting with him on social media using “fake EelKat” accounts to convince him that he was dealing with me, even though I had never heard of him before.

According to the FBI, my mother started sending his family death threats, in the same way she is currently sending Todd Murphey’s family death threats, and that this is why Mark’s wife attacked with the golf clubs, murdering my baby and crippling my spine. According to the FBI, Mark’s wife thought she was attacking my mother and was unaware that both my mother, her sister Barbara, and her brother Bruce’s wife Doris were all impersonating me, using 27 different “fake EelKat” FaceBook accounts to scam Mark’s family about a septic system.

This was confirmed by the Old Orchard Beach police in October 2016, when Mark attacked my mother in person and was arrested by OOB police, that day. He made the claim, that she, my mother, was me, but the officers in question, Robin and Will, both know me and my mother and informed Mark that this was not me that he was fighting with, it was my mother, to which he said this was the woman he had been dealing with since June 2001 who had called herself EelKat in every correspondence. The police showed Mark pictures of me and he said he had never seen me before and had no clue who I was.

This event October 2016, is when both the police and FBI started expanding their investigation, now looking for people who were friends of my mother, her sister Barbara, and her brother Bruce, and that is when they found the identity of long time stalker and bomb builder Kendra Silvermander who turned out to be a FaceBook friend of all 3 of them.

After Mark’s gang found out October 2016 that I was NOT the person they had been fighting with online, but rather it had been my mother impersonating me, the attacks on my family stopped but the attacks on my mother’s family started February 2017 when a road grader drove 75 feet up her driveway and flattened her car. Since then this event was repeated with 3 more cars.

In August 2021, My mother and her sister began impersonating me on FaceBook and with emails, yet again, and as they had done in the past, used my friend Etiole to do it. Once again, calling him a demon and an alien and a cryptid, and once again pretending to be me, they wrote a lot of emails and started mass spam sending them to every Maine email address they could find, at a rate of sending them to several thousand people a day.

I found out about this in November 2021, after Etiole was shot, gunned down by 6 people at Rotary Park in Biddeford, Maine on November 21, 2021, by people who claimed to be from Scarborough, Maine and claimed to be the mother and in laws of some guy named Todd Murphey.

I still have no clue who Todd Murphey is, but apparently he used to work with my mother and commit suicide recently and my mother and her sister took advantage of his suicide to yet again pretend to be me, and this time, calling Etiole a suicide demon, started harassing this Todd guy’s ex wife, son, and mother on FaceBook and via emails while pretending to be me. Which caused these people to show up at my 409 Main Street/Harvey/Cutts street Biddeford apartment to vandalize my car and cut all the wires off the apartment building, not once, but twice: on Thanksgiving day 2021 and again on March 10, 2022, because these friends and family of this Todd guy are 100% convinced the nut they are dealing with on FaceBook is me, when in fact, the one they are dealing with is no me, but rather my mother yet again pretending to be me.

This is also what led to the December 2021 and January 2022 FBI raids in the Cutts Street are of Biddeford, just a few weeks ago, which led to the arrests of 8 people.

Back to sepsis…

On December 24, 2021, my mother arrived here at 409 Main street and stole my father’s 14 medications that he takes for his triple by pass, his kidney dialysis, his diabetes… and then, she took him in her car, drove to his doctor, and told his doctor, he’s not allowed to have medicine, because he has to do what she says.

He has not taken his medicine since December 24, 2021, it is today April 6, 2022, and he is struggling to stay alive.

All of this is because she is hell bent on a house in Kennebunk and doesn’t give a shit that she has caused my baby to be murdered November 14, 2013, my foster children to be murdered April 10, 2015, me to be going through a decade long medical nightmare after being crippled November 14, 2013, 5 of my cars to be destroyed including The real Cristine The World’s Most Haunted Car that Stephen King based his Cristine off of, my house -the one that was in the Thinner movie- to be driven over by a back hoe, and now my father dying in the hospital.

Death and destruction at every turn, and she doesn’t give a shit because, as she puts it: “What are we going to do about Wendy? She can’t keep that land, I need a house in Kennebunk!”

Her obsession with getting a house is utter ludicrous insanity, that needs to be stopped before anyone else dies at the hands of her fucking retarded FaceBook friends who blinding attack, vandalize, and beat up anyone and everyone on her command.

I am so fed up with her blind devotion to a fairy tale house she thinks she has to have, at the expense of the lives of everyone around her.



March 30, 2022, update on yet another attack on my family and land

Police take notice. 


Scam artists have been bringing real estate agents onto my property in attempt to illegally sell my land. They have no right or permission to be here. My land is NOT for sale. If you see them doing it, please arrest them.

These are the Scottish Travellers. They arrive here every summer, harassing my family for four decades now. They are the same ones who drove a backhoe over my house August 8, 2013. The same ones who crippled me and murdered my baby November 14, 2013 with golf clubs, leaveing me paralized with a broken spine ever since. I am cripled with a shattered spinal column since the golf club attack and am bedridden weeks to a time unable to sit up or get out of bed. I have rebuilt my house 5 times in the past 9 years, and their attempts to steal my land and sell it have been barbaric and violent, and icluded a bomb that blew up my house October 18, 2006, and most of my family is now dead, murdered at their hands. These are the same people who cut my 1964 Dodge 330 in half May 10, 2010. They arrived back here September 19, 2020 and illegally cut down most of the trees across my lawn, and arrived again November 19, 2021 and for the last 20 years they arrive every summer with a green dump truck and dump garbage on my lawn. In 2014 they left a pile of garbage 175 feet long, 30 feet wide and 12 feet tall and it cost me $12,000 to have it removed. I am crippled and elderly and there is no one to help me against their harassment.

There should NEVER be anyone other than me EelKat Wendy C Allen (with the painted Volvo) or my partner Benjamin Wildes (with the blue Honda) in my yard at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where the ink motorhome is parked. If you see ANYONE ELSE or any other car in my yard, please call the police immediately. There is no one else who has permission to be on my land.

My land is NOT for sale, if you see real estate agents, please inform them they are being scammed and the people trying to sell my land are NOT the legal land owners.

The FBI are on the look out for them as are the local police. If you see them in my yard, please notify both the Old Orchard Beach Police Department at 207-934-4911 and FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street.





March 10, 2022 update on the most recent vandalism of my car

This is a copy of the letter that has been forwarded to the police departments involved. For this online edition some parts have been removed (so if you get to a place that seems like the topic changed abruptly, that is why) and the names are removed from the online version, but the version the police have, includes all the full names and contact info of all the people in question. And for those who have asked: yes, the police and FBI have talked to Etiole, they are fully aware of him, his health, his homelessness, etc.

Dear Sirs,

I feel I need to tell you what has been happening as it has gotten very much out of control the past few weeks. It's been slowly escalating for a few years and, if you look at my police record for both Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, you will see dozens of reports for vandalism of my 1992 Volvo 240 (the painted one) at now 3 apartments in Biddeford, and vandalism of my land in Old Orchard Beach. In the past 6 months, a hyper escalation started with has become very out of control the past couple of weeks.

Last night, my car was vandalized again.  

As these events are taking place in both Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, I'm giving this same letter to both departments, so events from both towns are listed.

I am Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine and 409 Main Street apartment 101 Biddeford, Maine.

There appears to be someone fairly local impersonating me online, and is raising hell with a lot of local people, inciting them to do very violent physical attacks on me, my Biddeford apartment, my Old Orchard land, and my car.

It's reached the point where I can not go to the store without having my car towed home, because it gets vandalized so bad while I'm n the store shopping. EVERY TIME I go to the store. I've been at a loss to understand why this is happening. I don't know who these people are or why they are attacking. On Thanksgiving day they cut all the wires off the Biddeford apartment building so we had no internet or heat or anything for a while. There is a "redhaired" woman who shows up on the front porch to cream at my car, every time the family who lives in that apartment goes to work. She stopped a few weeks ago, because the man who lives there fell on the ice, broke his shoulder and has not gone to work since. It appears she knows that family who lives there and does not want them knowing she does this while they are not home.

A few weeks ago an old man walked up to me, asked if I was EelKat and then asked me why I kept emailing him, and I said I don't email anyone cause I don't use email. He said some days he gets over 300 emails a day from someone claiming to be EelKat.

 

We are Gypsies, and though I've lived in America my whole life, I know very little of American habits and laws or what specifically to do in this situation. We are the Gypsies who were in Stephen King's Thinner movie and my 146 Portland Ave land was one of the filming locations of the movie and, the cars in the opening scenes were our cars, one of which I still have. I mention this, because, there are two Gypsy clans, The Atwaters (Scottish Travellers) and the Cyrs (Irish Travellers) fighting over my land and the fight centres largely around the fact that it was the filming location of Stephen King's the Thinner movie.

I own the land. From the 1940s it was owned by my grandmother Helen Ricker Allen. She left it to me in her will in 1983. Unknown to me, at some point after 1983, the Atwaters had the land illegally transferred into their names -they steal land this way as a full time career and many of them have illegally deed swapped land in all 50 states in America.

In 2014, I found out they are done an illegal deed swap, when an auction group showed up on my land to sell it. Upon discovery I had been living on the land since 1975 and paying taxes on it since 1983, but my name was not on the deed, the auctioneer (and member of the OOB town hall) cancelled the auction and ordered a town hall meeting to review the situation. Upon investigation it was discovered that when the land went from my grandmother to me, my father signed as "joint witness" and then a year later, went back to the town hall to have my name removed from the deed and his put on it, even though he had no legal write to do so. After that, the record shows that every 3 to 5 years, he and my mother swapped names on the deed, sometimes his name, sometimes her name. The land changed ownership names more then 30 times between 1983 and 2013. 

Because I have severe agoraphobia, I had not set foot off of my land since the 1970s. When it came time to pay the taxes, I gave my father the money and he delivered it to the town hall, or so I thought. In 2014, I learned that in spite of my paying my taxes like clockwork, since 2006, the town hall had no record of receiving any money. It is unclear where the money went. On one hand it looks like my father spent the money and never paid the taxes. On the other hand it looks like he sometimes did pay the taxes but instead of going to the tax office he gave the money to Kathy BR in the permits office and she gave the money to a guy called JB who went to prison for embezzling $3million in OOB tax money from the town hall. JB did not work for the town hall, he was a software designers who built the online banking security for the town hall to direct deposit money to the bank, and according to the FBI the money was going to his bank account not the town hall bank account, but he was only found with $30k not $3million. I don't know the full details, I only know this part, because when we tried to find out why my land was being auctioned this is the info we were given.

In any case, at some point my dad stole my land via just walking into the town hall and asking the desk clerk to remove my name from the deed and put his name on it instead. The whole thing was done illegally and without my knowledge or permission.

There were 3 lands originally. 144, 146, and 146a. My father stole all 3 of them. 144 was auctioned off to the Collard family in 2007, even though I was still living there until 2015 without any knowledge of the auction happening. No one informed me. I've since spoken with the Collards and they were unaware of the situation. They actually bought the land legally even though it was stolen land they had bought, they were unaware the land had been stolen. Everything has been straightened out between me and the Collards, they are not part of the current problem.

My mother owns 146a, but she owns it illegally. She claims it's rightfully hers because my father gave it to her, but, he stole it from me via illegally rewriting the deed, so he had no right to give it to her.

In 2014 and 2015, all the court and legal work was done to restore 146 back to me.

The current situation is my parents are in an active attempt to remove my name off the deed again, like they had done back in 1983.

On a daily basis my mother shows up and first words out of her mouth every day is: "What are we going to do about Wendy? She can't keep that land. I need a house in Kennebunk." to my father.  She started doing this in August, originally bragging that she was going to take my land out of retaliation for my refusal to cast death curses on Chris at work. I don't know who "Chris at work" is. It was one of the names on her list of people she wants me to kill via death spell curses. I was live streaming on Twitch the day she came in yelling about "Chris at work" and my need to kill him for her, so a lot of people online heard her saying these things. I'm a YouTube gamer, I have a livestream going almost daily for 12+ hours a day, so when she comes in, #1 it's breaking and entering because I didn't let her in, and #2 she is interrupting my live streams quite regular so I have hundreds of video footage clips of her saying these things and making these threats. The day she and my father cut the cable/internet wires off my apartment building - I have that on livestream footage as well. My father cut the wires off the house while my mother was ordering him to do it. In November 2021 and again 2 days ago March 9, 2022.

They both make the claim I don't need internet, because I am as they put it "being a bad daughter" because I "won't sell your land and give me the money for a down payment, I need a down payment, you are supposed to give me the down payment money for a house, I'm your mother!"'

As for what happened to my car March 9, 2022 - my father, my father vandalized my car and tried to make it look like my brother  did it. My father stuffed the tailpipe full of McDonald's ketchup packets that he stole from the Biddeford McDonald's where my brother works, which is what caused the fuel line to blow up. I could have died. My car is now being repaired again, for the exact same thing I had to have it repaired for in November 2021. My father tried to kill me and make it look like my brother who works at McDonald's did it so my brother would be blamed. Twice. Once in November 2021 and again 2 days ago.

My father did the same thing in November, because of some guy named Todd who I supposedly convinced to kill himself via may painting a "suicide demon" on my car. There is a picture of Etiole on my car, that is what they are calling "a suicide demon"

I don't know who Todd is, but I assume the Biddeford police know as they did spend a week scrapping the thousands of exploded parts of him off all the houses around Cutts st and South st, after he jumped in front of a train November 19, 2021 at 6:27PM. I was walking my dog and saw him, he was gibbering a lot of wild nonsense stuff like: "fibbery-gibbit-beebydi-booop-bop-boop-bop-booop-beeeeeeeep!" I amused he was either very drunk or very high on drugs or both and was attempting to make train sounds while he ran up and down the train tracks. I thought nothing of it, as he did this on a daily basis all summer long, he was a homeless man who lived in the ravine by the train tressal bridge over the river, the one the police kept chasing out of the black grain building turned storage units. There were 4 people on bicycles, driving circles around him bullying him, teasing him, taunting him daily around 3AM every morning. I saw them while I was walking my dog. It appeared to be his girlfriend and her friends based on the stuff she was yelling at him. Stuff like "You run off with that whore will you! WW I showed you! I killed your dog! Hahahahahaha! I killed your cat! Hahahahaha! And you ain't never gonna see your baby again! Hahahahaha!" I know every one says he commit suicide, but I think he was just running to get away from the harassers on the bikes and was too drunk to see the train. That's certainly what it looked like to me.

THAT was not a suicide, not what I saw happen. That was a man being bullied and chased down by four harassers riding bicycles up the tracks, driving him head on into a train on purpose to try to kill him so they could laugh about it. I wouldn't call THAT a suicide.

Anyways, I didn't know his name or that my mother was best friends with him. Though I had told her about the homeless man being bullied and her response was "Why should I care? It's just a homeless man!" She changed her tune quite a lot after he got hit by the train, and found out his name. The police contacted her or something, when they were trying to find his family. I guess she knew his family on FaceBook or something.

Since his death, me, my car, and my apartment have been attacked on a near daily basis from people who are making the claim that I am online spreading rumours and lies about Todd. I kept asking them who Todd was (because at that point I did not yet know they were talking about the homeless man hit by the train - though I saw him daily for about 4 months, ever since the police kicked him out of the storage until he'd been living in and he lived under the train bridge and in Rotary Park instead - he only ever spoke to me a few times - once to pet my dog and say "they took my dog" and saying "hi" as we passed on the sidewalk. So I never knew his name. He lived in a yellow pup-tent beside the tracks for a while, but one day it was laying out there cut to ribbons by a knife or scissors.)

Even though I only knew him from saying "hi" each night as we passed each other on the sidewalk and I never knew his name until after his death, more then a dozen people have arrived in my driveway (both the Biddeford and Old Orchard addresses) to accuse me and my friend Etiole and the words painted on my Volvo of being the cause of this Todd guy's train death.

They are focusing heavily on the words on my car, which say: "Have information about the murder of my family? Call FBI @ 207-774-9322"

There is a sign in my Old Orchard driveway which says: "Have information about the murder of my children? Call FBI @ 207-774-9322"

On November 14, 2013, at Southern Maine Community College, while I was 8 months pregnant, I was attacked by 3 people with golf clubs. A man and 2 women.

There is no reason for anyone who is NOT involved in the murder of my baby, to be upset about either the sign in my yard or the sign on my car, both of which are nothing more then the FBI phone number with the request for anyone who has information to call.

I don't understand why me asking for people to help find my baby's killer, is seen by my parents as such a huge threat. The only person who who feel threatened by that would be the person who hired the golf club people - Claire, Kendra, and the bald man - who have still not yet been found/caught/identified to this day 9 years later.

Both my mother and my father keep saying and I quote "take that shit off your car, you are only trying to start trouble!" and "get that sign out of your yard, you are only trying to stir stuff up". I'm trying to find the people who murdered my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not trying to cause trouble. How is me asking people to help identify the murderer, me trying to start trouble?

I was paralyzed for 5 months. I had to relearn to walk. I crippled the rest of my life, and my baby is dead. No one should have to live through this type of agony. And no one who commits crimes like this should be allowed to walk free. Would you stand back and do nothing, say nothing, while a criminal like that walked free? How is my asking people to come forward with any information they know, me trying to start trouble? You tell me that!

I'm not allowed to ask for help in finding the psychopath who murdered my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life? What kind of logic is that?

Someone out there knows the names of these people. The older blond woman they called Claire, the younger blond woman with the Shirley Temple sausage curls, the red haired woman they call Kendra, the white haired man with the green pick up truck, the bald man with the 4door white pickup truck, the new redhaired women who screams on the front porch. These people, this group, they are the ones who were wielding golf clubs and murdered my baby. They are being allowed to get away wit murder and I'll spend the rest of my life demanding justice if I have to. You tell me, how is my asking if you know who they are, don't let them kill again, tell the FBI everything you know, by painting that request on my car and a sign in my yard, me looking to start trouble? My mother's priorities are fucked up. All she cares about is money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money! 

I'm the bed ridden, crippled by multiple attacks. The November 14, 2013 golf club attack, I was almost healed from, but the June 2016 shopping cart attack at my workplace at Scarborough WalMart re opened the 2013 injury and doctors can't operate this time because of the bone shards severing my spinal column. I'm crippled for the rest of my life and no one in this family ever cared. 

Both attacks the FBI wanted to talk to my parents and they refused to talk to him both times. My baby was murdered in the first attack. I was 8 months pregnant and all any of them would do was gibberish about "rosemary baby" and say there was no baby because it was a demon because it was Etiole's. My parents and the Atwaters hate Etiole that much, that they shun the existence of my baby and act like it was never there. That's how much they hate me. That's how cruel and hate filled they are towards me. They spent the last 50 years calling me demon possessed and them saying that is WHY local people attack me and killed my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life. 

I am in bed 15 or more hours a day, I can barely sit up, I can barely stand up long enough to cook, I have to wear adult diapers since 2013 because half my organs don't work any more because the nerves from those organs to my spine are cut off. My hands shake so bad that it takes me hours to eat a single meal. I can't go back to college, I can't go back to work. But do they care? No. Not my mother. Not my father. Neither of them give a shit. They are both too damned selfish thinking about their own greed to ever once lift a finger to help me. Daddy treats me like a fucking slave and my mother is so far out of my life shunning me because bishop kenning in Saco ward told her too that she hasn't got a clue how bad things are.

I'm not doing a damned thing to any of them. I mind my own business. I write my novels. I don't contact them. I don't talk to them. I don't talk about them.  Someone is clearly pretending to be me online and is slandering me and getting sick of it. My mother flips out about everything thing under the sun and I never have a clue what she's talking about, because I never did or said any of the things she accuses me of. And my father and the Atwaters do the same thing. Some one is out there pretending to be me to get them worked into a frenzy just to sit back and laugh while watching my mother, my father, and the Atwaters be too damned stupid to think. My mother and my father and the Atwaters are all filled with so much pure hatred for me that it takes nothing to convince them to attack me. And whoever it is posting online pretending to be me, knows that and is taking advantage of it. 

They are obsessed with my land, because my mother's father used to tell people there was $7million in gold buried on my land. Several times over the years the Atwaters have invaded bringing with them shovels, pickaxes, and construction equipment, to illegally dig up my land. They've ripped up flowers, dug up bushes, cut down trees... usually they do it while I'm gone to the store, so I come back to find my property ripped to shreds. They've been doing this on an almost yearly basis since Grammy Helen died in 1983. According to what David Henry Atwater claimed, pirates buried treasure on my land in the 1500s. There is ZERO evidence that pirates ever buried anything on my land. Later he changed the story and said that the gold plates of the Book of Mormon Part 2 were buried on my land, this time he claimed an angel from god told him. So the Atwaters have multiple excuses for why they arrive to dig everything up, but it's always that they are gold crazy and have gold fever and are convinced if they dig long enough they'll find gold on my land.

The other obsession they have with my land is a homeless man they call "Etiole". They sometimes claim he is a demon, they other times claim he is an alien, for a few years they called him a cryptid, they often say he's the Mememegwasi spirit of the Saco River Curse, a few of them say he's a watcher/fallen angel, some say he's a ghost of an Indian chief, some say he's the ghost of a French solider, some have called him a Faerie/Leprechaun/FarDarrig ... and a whole slew of other claims. Regardless of what they call him, they all adimintly refuse to believe that he is just an ordinary human, an elderly homeless man who keeps to himself and desperately wants them to leave him alone. That's all he is. He's just a homeless man who lives in the woods and wants them to leave him alone.

The Atwaters are obsessed with Etiole on severe levels and have gone to alarming levels of monstrous harassment of him through the past 50 years. Part of their obsession with him, is caused by their previously mentioned gold fever. You see, Etiole travels all over Maine, I never know where he is at any given time, but when he's in the local area, I let him camp out on my land. I've let him stay with me like this for over 40 years. In the 1980s, one of the times they arrived to dig up my land, Etiole was sleeping in my 1964 Dodge 330, and according to them, he jumped out of the car and "threw blue lighten bolts" at them causing a tornado to destroy their construction equipment. They claimed he turned into a black serpent with red eyes and 6 blue wings that was hundreds of feet long, surrounded them and killed several of them by summoning lightning bolts. . . . uhm . . . yeah. I wasn't home so I didn't see this event, of Etiole supposedly attacking them. But it's pretty clear they had some sort of massive LSD hallucination, given many of them heavily used LSD back in the 1970s and 1980s when this event happened. According to Etiole, he just jumped out of the car and ran into the swamp to hide, he didn't see any of the stuff they described.

After that they got it into their heads that I had summoned a demon (and that Etiole was said demon) to protect my secret cache of pirate gold, and their battle cry of "kill the demon" is what caused them to blow up my house with a bomb October 18, 2006, drive over my house with a backhoe August 8, 2013, beat me up with golf clubs and murder my baby November 14, 2013, cut my 1964 Dodge 330 in half May 10, 2010. All those things you have all those police reports about.

They are convinced Etiole is in my yard to keep them from my gold. The only problem is, there is no gold on my land. Etiole is not a demon, and their extreme levels of harassment are utterly insane! 

But then, when they get caught on my camera, because I'm a daily vlogger, so the camera is running all the time, them they accuse me of harassing them, because their faces showed up on my livestream. Uhm... I'm on y own land, in my own bedroom, usually a few hours into my daily livestream when they get caught in the background trespassing. That's NOT me harassing them. That's them trespassing and vandalizing, and breaking and entering while not realizing I was home and them getting caught in the act of vandalizing and trespassing.

Then they run to FaceBook and make all kinds of wild claims about me stalking them. I'm crippled. I can't even get out of bed. Every time I have them on camera, it's because they were trespassing and breaking and entering. I'm in my bedroom livestream a game on my computer and they'll be smashing out windows and get mad that it happened to be the window in line with my livestream webcam on my computer. That's NOT be stalking them. That's me laying in bed playing Witcher 3 and them breaking in.

I'm too damned sick and crippled to even attempt to do half the crazy shit my mother and my father are accusing me of. And what's worse, my father is right here in the same apartment with me. He sees me every day, he knows how bad off my health is. 

Look how much I'm bleeding all over the house every day. Massive nose bleeds that last for hours to a time, not bleeding from my nose. Just coming out of my nose. I'm so dizzy I can't sit up for weeks to a time. I faint and blackout when I try to get up to go to the bathroom. The pain in my hip and pelvis and knee and spine is so bad I can't even move my fingers to type my novels. 

And look at what they do. Do they really think I'm physically capable of doing the things they accuse me of? They are so damned self centred and paranoid. It's all I can do just to sit up and eat something, how the hell do they think I can do the stuff they accuse me of? My day is spent focusing on trying to get my leg to move so I can make a meal, I don't even have time to think about them. 

It looks more and like my mother and my father are doing this stuff on purpose to try to kill me. My father knows how bad off my heart and lungs are and how difficult it is for me to breath after just a couple of steps. His mother left that land to me in her will in 1983. He stole it, had it put into his name illegally. He's been pissed ever since her death, because she gave everything to me not him. That's been a big problem for him for the last 40 years. He raves about it alongside his ravings about going to Utah taking him off the fire department. He hates my mother because of Utah, blames her every day for losing his fire department pension. He raves about it all night long every single night. He blames me for his mother disinheriting him. He raves about that all the time too. I was only grandchild That's why she left everything to me. Including the land that he stole and put in his name. That land is rightfully mine, his mother gave it to me, and he can't stand it. He's needling my mother about the land just to spite his mother.

He's only trying to get the land away from me because he is mad that the town didn't take it. His mother wanted it to stay in the family. It had been in her family since 1530. Her family was the original settlement family of Old Orchard and my land is that spot that the first house in Old Orchard was built.  My father stopped paying taxes to spite his mother and lose the land. He said so many times. He was angry when I bought the land back from the town. He still is. He wants it out of the family because his mother wanted it in the family. That's why he's trying to turn my mother against me over the land. Because he gates his own mother that much.

Keep in mind the 4 door white truck showed up at my workplace daily. Even though I never knew ahead of time what store I would be working at. I was a retail merchandiser and stocked shelves at dozens of stores all over the state. Walmart's every where, CVS, khols, sometimes local, sometimes as far as Freeport and once in Vermont and once in Massachusetts.  I got the notice of which store to be at 15 minutes before I left. So the only person who ever knew where I was going was my father. 

And yet the 4 door white truck would also arrive ahead of me and be waiting. They didn't follow me, they got their first.

And the police caught the truck and the driver in 2017. Kathy BR owned the truck. Her son was the driver.

The smith's are my parents friends. My mother's visiting and home teachers for years.

Kathy was the district emergency dispatch for all the towns in the area, not just old Orchard. That's why none of the 911 calls went through during the attacks by the 4 door white truck. He only attacked while she was on duty. She never forwarded any of the calls so officers never were told to come help me.

That includes the November 14, 2013 golf club attack in South Portland. But the college security officer made a report even though the police never arrived. That big black officer who was head of security was on duty and him and 2 student officers from the police academy made the report.

And FBI found the data from the calls, that never got forwarded to police, that's why Kathy BR lost her job. Because she's the one who tampered with the 911 call files.

Tim and Kathy BR both, not together, individually, arriving separately, both arrived at my tent multiple times throughout the entire year of 2013, saying they were coming to speak to me on behalf of someone who wanted to remain anonymous. So I never knew who sent them. Each time they arrived all they would say was that I had to tear down "the little yellow house" as they called the shop. 

August 8, 2013 the backhoe drove over the shop while I was at work on the food truck down by the pier.

I never saw Tim or Kathy again after that. Not once. And these were people who stopped by to visit my parents daily for over 40 years. Since August 8, 2013 and the backhoe attack on my house, Kathy and Tim have gone to alarming extreme levels to avoid running into me. They just down the street, on one of the private drives, so it's difficult to avoid running into me, and we used to see them a few times a week at local grocery stores. They both, if they see me in a store, literally throw whatever they are carrying across the store and run out of the store like they have a pack of rabid wolves on their heels. It's pretty fascinating thing to see.

My cousin and next door neighbour Tim Murphy was murdered that same week, a few days before the backhoe. His body was left at the cascade Ross road crossroad. 14 days later his head was left at the Portland Ave Ross road crossroad road. His mother put up the big white cross a month later. 

Note that there were THREE 4-door white trucks, a smaller one, a larger one, and a mega-sized giant one -like a Dodge Power Wagon type only it was not a Dodge Power Wagon it was one of the look alike brands, possibly a Nissan. The owner and driver of the big-big-super sized one is still unidentified. The other 2 were both caught in 2017, Kathy BR's truck being the larger of the 2. The 3 trucks often showed up together and drive circles around me, on Rout 1/Portland Rd, while I was driving. They would slam my car from back and sides and push me off the road. Several times they did damage to the frame of my car with had to be repaired multiple times. They've done several tens of thousands in damages to my Volvo over the years. You already have a lot of the smashed up car photos on file, at both Biddeford and Old Orchard police departments, you each have more then a dozen reports for attacks on my car -though the FBI has said someone attempted to destroy several of the records with my name, at the Old Orchard police department. FBI said they arrested the officers who did that. I don't know which files were damaged or how. 

For several years/decades now, I have had multiple people trying to buy my land. The same people over and over again. Only buying my land is not what they are asking for. Rather, they claim my land is cursed and I have to sell it to break the curse. Crazy, I know, but that's what they say. The crazier part is they say that after I sell my land I have to hand the money over to them so they can use it as a down payment on a house they want to buy in Kennebunk. The people in question are my parents and they've been doing this for well over 20 years now. I've always said "no, I'm not selling my land" and left it at that.

My mother (she changes her last name often, I'm not sure which she currently uses) and my father my father both have become extreme hostile and violent the past 2 weeks, and I'm not sure what set them off, but they are hyper infuriated on my refusal to sell my land and give them the money for a down payment of a house in Kennebunk. 

I did not suspect them, all these years, because always been other people showing up and say they were contacting me on behalf of someone who wanted to remain anonymous, but now they are directly doing it themselves.

Starting in June 2001, lots of harassment started and at first, I did not suspect them, or think there was a connection. But now they are outright bragging to my face, that they are the ones behind the vandalism. Like I said, check the police records for 144, 146, 148 Portland Ave from June 2001 til current date. There have been dozens of attacks, including drive by shootings, the bombing of my house, the backhoe driving over my next house, me being beat up with golf clubs which is why I am crippled now for the rest of my life and how my baby died.

The FBI is involved. If you need more information beyond what I've written here,  FBI Agent Andy Drewer can be reached at 207-774-9322 he is at the Portland Office on Middle Street, he is in charge of the investigation, of several events, namely the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, which my uncle Paul Martel went to prison for building the bomb and selling it to ISIS. The 2006 bombing of the house at 144 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine. My baby was murdered November 14, 2013, a backhoe drove over my house at 146 Portland August 8, 2013 that's why I'm at the Biddeford apartment right now, because we can't get Kathy BR at the town hall to get a building permit, even though she's not the one in charge of that, she takes over our application and won't let it be approved, because she claims I shouldn't be allowed to live in Old Orchard, due to my having left the Mormon church to become a Voodoo Priestess, she says that makes me a witch and I'm not allowed to apply for a house building permit on those grounds, so, it's been 9 years and I'm still without a house on my land in Old Orchard and still stuck in a Biddeford apartment.

It is a long list of a lot of things happening. I'll try to organize it all in order:

At it's start, the whole thing goes back to a homeless man who wishes to remain anonymous, so I'm not using his real name here, nor have I ever used his real name anywhere online or offline or with any conversation with any one.

He, didn't do anything wrong. Quite the contrary, all he's ever done is live in the Ross Forest and surrounding swamps and marshes along the Saco River in Pine Point, OOB, Saco, Biddeford, and probably other areas, he moves around a lot rotating where he sets up camp, something he's done since 1953. I know quite a few people have seen him and talked to him, I don't know if any police officers have ever encountered him or not. Because he is elderly and in frail health, I often let him stay on my land. He's the ONLY person who has permission to be there. Herein lays the problem: he's deformed from acid burn scars covering most of his body. Churches around the area have spent decades accusing him of being a cryptid, alien, demon, watcher, fallen angel, you name it, someone has called him some weird conspiracy. According to him, himself, he was a Jewish WW2 concentration camp survivor, who arrived in OOB with a bunch of other refugees in 1953. Because he's so deformed by his scars, he was bullied by the locals who refused to believe him a human, and that's why he fled into the forest and never set foot in society again. The problem is, the people harassing me have made up this wild conspiracy that he's a demon and I'm protecting him, and they claim they need to get me off my land in order to get to him.

This all started in 1978.

My parents (my father and my mother), uncles (12), aunts (12+), and cousins (64 at the 1970s/1980s time - more then 400 today), teased and bullied me throughout my childhood about him, but they teased and bullied everyone about everything, so I didn't think that much of their bullying back in the 1970s and 1980s when it first started happening. It was just them being the toxic bullies that they are to everyone.

It wasn't until the 1990s and 2000s that it started to become a problem. And 207 is when I first realized how big of a problem it really was.

In 1996 and 1997 Aunt aunt B sent out lots of emails to the family claiming the emails had been written by me. I did not have email, internet, or even a computer yet. She got Dickie (Richard Merlin Atwater) and David (Atwater) and Joey (Atwater -the one who lives in Australia and is wanted by the FBI for kidnapping and selling babies back in the 1980s- FBI can't arrest him until he leaves Australia -I'm not sure why- so he became a citizen. I don't know the details of what he's wanted for.) in raving warpath over it. All three of them showed up in OOB -even Joey from Australia-though I didn't know he was wanted by the FBI back than. But they arrived here in OOB to yell at me in person, because aunt B made the claim that the emails were from me, so they were all mad at me for having written them, but I never did know the contents of the emails because I didn't write them.

I did not see the emails. I didn't have access to a computer back then ad I didn't have internet until 2007 a full 11 years later. Dickie had several of them printed out and waving them around, but I never got a chance to read what they said. One of the emails was 64 pages long, and according to Dickie was all about aliens. I know nothing about aliens, so most of what he said was just gibberish nonsense to me. This was in 1996, shortly before Heaven's Gate killed 39 people in California and at the time, all 3 of those uncles, plus a few other uncles were members of Heaven's Gate, and one uncle -Mervin Bruce Atwater-made the claim to be "the leader of the Maine division of Heaven's Gate"- I don't know if he actually was a Heaven's Gate leader or not, but he maintained that he was right up until 2019, and in April 2019 he was making the claim to be following Comet Wormwood because HaleBop was the wrong one. Like I said, they were coming up with some pretty wild alien and UFO claims and I'm not sure how much of what they claimed was true.

Well, this was the first time I heard the word "Etiole" which was the nickname they had given to the homeless man who sometimes camped out on my yard. Etiole is not his name, it's always been just the word the Atwaters call him (they say it means man from the stars or alien and that it's a French word. I don't know French, aunt B is the one who knows French, so I never would have given him a French name.) Somewhere in the emails, aunt B had called the homeless man "Etiole" and "amphibious alien" and made the claim that he was an "alien grey" who had abducted me to some mother-ship.  

I have never been abducted by aliens and never made such a claim. I never heard such foolishness. But, that this point, I wasn't fully aware of what they were talking about, so I didn't yet realize they were saying that I was making the claim to have been abducted by aliens.

That's the summer they all showed up talking about Etiole and amphibious aliens and alien abduction. aunt B was the one who started all of that stuff about Etiole, who I never called Etiole. But that was how it got started...all this stuff that is happening now with the vandalism and threats going on this week March 2022.

Bruce and Dickie went to a bunch on MUFON forums from 1996 to 2007 spreading lies about me and Etiole calling him a demon and alien and claiming I was an alien abducted. I found out about what they were doing in 2007 after they'd already been doing it for 11 years. 

I don't think aunt B has ever stopped sending out emails about Etiole while pretended to be me, I think she is still doing it. I think this, because in December 2021, I was at the Biddeford library when an elderly man came over to me, asked if I was EelKat and asked me why I was sending him hundreds of emails about Etiole, and who was Etiole? I told the man I don't use email, I've never emailed anyone, I don't know what he's talking about. He says he gets over 300 emails a day about Etiole from someone claiming to be EelKat. But here's the thing: EelKat is not something I call myself. I'll explain that in a bit.

First, let's go back to 1994. Before aunt B started sending the emails out, while claiming they were written by me. My father (my father) was the one who told the Atwaters about Etiole. My father and Dickie both called him "the white monkey". 

In 1994 and 1996 Bishop Paul Morgan asked me to his office and showed me a bunch of letters, all of them signed "The White Monkey, OST". He said the letters were written to sound like I had written them but he said he'd seen my handwriting before and knew I hadn't written these. The Bishop wanted to know if I recognized the handwriting. Some had been written by my father. Others had been written by Dickie. One was written by my mom's father David Henry Atwater who died several years ago now. This was the Mormon bishop in Cape Elizabeth. This bishop had more then one hundred letters laying on his desk, and he had several boxes more around his desk. He said he received no fewer then 5 letter every day for several months, and was quite concerned for my safety as he felt the letter writers may be "mentally unhinged" and "highly dangerous" based on what he called "several homicidal rants" contained in the letters. He said he was giving the letters to Paul Peterson, at Pine Land Centre Mental Health Institute in New Gloucester, because he felt my father and my uncle Dickie should be committed due to the contents of the letters.

The letters looked physically bizarre. Each one started like a normal letter, straight across sentences, line by line, but upon reaching the end of the page, the words spiralled around the outer edge and into a circle around the page, then upside down bottom to top between the first rows.

Each letter contained codes and cryptographers, and large portions of the letters were unreadable unless you cracked the "secret code" that was included with them.

Both my father and my uncle Dickie frequently wrote in that weird spiral and zigzag of lines fashion. My father's letters were the ones that included the cryptography and hidden codes. Dickies letters were just weird spiralling but no codes to solve.

I did not read any of the letters, but the Bishop was deeply upset by them, and stated that he used to be Catholic before becoming Mormon and said that if he was still Catholic he'd recommend my father had an excorsim down, because as the Bishop put it "the white monkey letters are the closet thing I've ever seen to demon possession".

Later that same year Paul Peterson from Pine Land Centre arrived at church and asked to talk to me. He had with him, some of the White Monkey letters and like the Bishop asked me to id the handwriting.

Stake President Earnshaw (of the same church) later called me in to his office for similar letters he had also received and again the white monkey letters were written by mostly daddy and some Dickie all pretending to be me, trying to make it look like I was pretending to be Etiole. 

In total 16 Bishops and 2 stake presidents had contacted me over the years about white monkey letters, all citing they were receiving them daily. Some said members were receiving them. When I stopped attending the Mormon church, my mother's minister's at the 15 churches she was attending at the time, all started getting the letters. (At the time my mom had a belief that she had to be in church as close to 24 hours a day as possible, so she was attending week day church services at every church that had them, even though she was not a member of most of those churches. She became an atheist last I had heard and attends no churches at all anymore as far as I know.) 

My father was in and out of the hospital a lot during this time period (1991 to 1996-ish), due to the violent fights between him and my mother which included him twice being hospitalized due to blood gushing head injuries from a brick, which also included OOB police arresting my mother for beating him said brick. The psychiatrist from Pine Land Centre felt that my dad suffered serious brain damage from one of the brick beating attacks, and wanted him to press charges against my mother, but he refused. The psychiatrist said he felt that my dad's White Monkey letters was a side effect of the multiple head injuries he was hospitalized for. 

The white monkey letters stopped in 2007 when the psychiatrist at Biddeford hospital diagnosed my father as having schizophrenia and put him on psychiatric medicine. The Biddeford police have this arrest on record. We were living at Water st at the time and my father had tried to kill me and my brother Joshua and also himself. The police arrested him. He was in the psych ward for around a week, and released because of the drastic change in his personality that was caused by the medication. He was only released on the condition that he maintained the meds.

Since 2007 no one has mentioned Etiole or the white monkey, until November 19, 2021, when things (the vandalism and harassment and threats) started escalating, the week Todd Murphy died when people started showing up in Biddeford driveway yelling about Etiole and calling him a suicide demon, claiming my Volvo was demon possessed, and accusing me of driving my car around town to drive people to suicide. I don't know who these people were. The one doing most of the yelling has very unique and very identifiable hair: it's a "high fashion" stick straight bob, like what you see in Italy Runways, super stiff as a board, stick straight, like she uses a few jars of jell to get it so straight. And a weird dark-purple tinted red. Very anime cartoon looking hair. You can't mistake it. She always wears big dark glasses, and usually has a little skinny blond man with her, who appears to be her husband or boyfriend. She frequently is beating him over the head with a baby car seat, while yelling at me and my car, while standing on the front porch of our building. They don't live here, I don't know who they re or where they come from. She did it almost every day of December, and most of the last week of November 2021.

This is the first time anyone has mentioned Etiole in years.

They call him Etiole sometimes, White Monkey other times. 

I should tell you where the term "white monkey" come from.

There was a white monkey, in OOB in the 1970s. It belonged to Helen Pearly of Pine Point and was part of her "White Animal Farm" zoo that she ran, which was a little petting zoo of all albino animals. I think it shut down in the early 1980s. Most older folks of the area remember Helen Pearly and her albino zoo animals - which included an elephant, and other such animals. Well, one day the white monkey escaped and Helen Pearly was a friend of my grandmother's (Helen Ricker Allen) and Helen Pearly showed up at 146 Portland Ave (than 862 because the road was renumbers in 1982) to tell my Grammy Helen the monkey had been seen nearby and to let her know if we saw it. Well, after that me and the other neighbour kids started going out into the swamps looking for the white monkey because Helen Pearly was offering a reward for it being returned. And one day we saw it, and tried to catch it and we followed it into the swamps and we found a homeless man out there. He was sick and starving to death. 

The white monkey belonged to Helen Pearly and has nothing to do with Etiole at all. In 1978 Helen Pearly had a pet white monkey that got lost. Me and Atwater cousin Micheal and my Murphy cousin Timmy (the one whose white cross is on the Ross rd he died in 2013) saw it in the woods out back and tried to catch it. We found Etiole the same day. Etiole is a homeless man who lives behind my land in the woods. Me and Micheal and Timmy took him food. And to this day, we still do, except Michael moved away and Timmy died in 2013 so that left just me taking care of Etiole today. Etiole is very old, probably 80s or 90s today. He's very small, not much bigger than a child, maybe around 5'1"-ish. He's covered with acid burns, scars, and tattoos. He has extreme PTSD and is terrified of the sight of people. He's very skittish, almost mute, speaks mostly with his hands, and run terrified from any people who try to get near him. The only reason he didn't run the day we found him, was because he was very sick, probably pneumonia or something like that. Had we children not found him and taken him food for the next several weeks, he probably would have died that same summer. He must have been in his 50s or 60s back then in 1978.

We told the adults about him, and they went to find him, but, they found some plants instead out there in the swamp, and my mom called the police, and the OOB police called the state police, and the state police called the FBI and the entire rest of the week was lots of police digging up lots of plants. Adam and the Babe, were 2 police officers who were left to stand watch over us children while every one else hauled out the plants. News reporters showed up and the news stations called it "Maine's largest drug raid". I don't know what drug plants look like so I don't know what kind of drugs they were. According the the FBI agents who talked to use kids (we were all 5 to 10 years old at the time) a "bad name named Bryan Cyr put those bad plants in the swamp". The FBI agents said they had been looking for Bryan Cyr and his Cyr Clan from Connecticut for several years and wanted to know had we seen him.  We had not, though we did see him about a year later when the big shoot out happened at 142 Portland Ave in front of the Dome house - the day the dome house blue up because Anne Cyr set fire to the meth lab inside- I saw her poured 3 gas cans on the house then throw several matches. Bryan fled in a robin egg blue micro-mini pick up truck, screaming that the meth lab was gonna blow. The whole house went up like a mushroom cloud. It's the only time I ever saw the Cyr Clan.) 

Adam and the Babe went with us kids to look for the sick homeless man/Etiole as he's now called by locals, but he was gone by then, because it had been 5 or 6 or more hours since the adults found the plants. The 2 police officers looked all over the forest for him, and stopped when they found a human leg bone in the Bachelder Brooke and took that with them and left to join the other officers. (144, 146, and 148 Portland Ave and the swamps and forest behind it is a massive Native American grave - there are at least 500 graves, that back in the 1970s all still had markers, most of the dates are 1400s to 1500, but in the mid 1980s someone stole most all of the slate grave markers, so they are unmarked today. I assume the leg bone was from one of those graves - human bones wash up out of the ground all the time on these sections of land because there are just so many Native American graves all over the place here, on my land and the lands abutting me. It's why the Powder Horn campground can't expand any closer to my land - they hit Native American graves last time they expanded the campground.)

So, because they got sidetracked by all the drug plants and all the police everywhere for the rest of the week, the adults never saw the homeless man or the white monkey as both had been scared off by the huge crowd of drug raid crews.

For some reason because we found him while looking for Helen Pearly white monkey my father and the Atwaters got it in their heads that Etiole was a demon alien shape shifter who turned into a white monkey to lure me and Micheal into the woods. And that's how their stupid ass alien and demon rumours got started.

I should point out, her family, The Atwaters, are the Scottish Traveller Gypsies, aka as The Scottish Mafia by several white Americans, her brothers Bruce and David and several of Davids adult children, grandchildren, and great grand children call themselves Scottish Mafia  and act every bit fitting on that title, which is both why the FBI is investigating and why I have nothing to do with them.

Right after the June attack on her car, a large group of Irish Travellers showed up from the Carilinas and Tennessee and were setting up squatting camps all around the area, The had set up a large camp on BB street behind my Main st/Cutts St apartment in Biddeford, setting up in the big chain link fenced yard on the corner (which is why the owners have since roped the land off.) I didn't think anything of it at first, because the Irish Travellers show up in Southern Maine every year for decades now, so there's nothing unusual about seeing them setting up camps on any space they can find, you see it every year. Usually they camp on the cow farms in Dayton/Buxton/North Saco area, so seeing them in Biddeford was a bit strange.

I point this out because the week they arrived on BB, my mother and her Atwater siblings and their families flipped out big time. They put heavy focus on "the brown house on the corner and the chain link fence yard across the street" and laid out to harassing the landlords of those two locations. They had a list of around 100 addresses in Biddeford, Cape Elizabeth, and many other places included Rhode Island and Connecticut. I saw the list because my mother showed up at my yard waving it around and demanding I help her and the Atwaters stage an attack on the Irish Travellers, whom she claimed was family of the man in the green truck with the 2x4 attack on her car.

A war between the Scottish Travellers/Scottish Mafia/The Atwaters and the Irish Travellers -which include The Cry Clan drug gang from Connecticut - the one the FBI is here looking for-, is the last thing I want to get involved in. Those same two clans are the ones who did the 4-5-8 shoot out back in the 1970s/1980s, when they blew up the dome house at 142 Portland Ave. They were armed to the teeth with truck loads and school bus loads of illegal military guns back in the 4-5-8 shoot out and I don't want to see what kind of weaponry that same group lugs around now 40 years later.

I am a Voodoo Priestess. Voodoo is also known as Folk Catholicism. It is a branch of the Catholic Church. Voodoo is a Christian religion, that focuses on reverence the ancestors. Hollywood Horror movies have slandered our religion to such an extent that the average person thinks Voodoo is dark magic, death spells, curses, and voodoo dolls. Those are all things that exist only in Hollywood and do not exist in real world Voodoo. The problem is made worse, when teens and young adults, not knowing the actual religion, call themselves Voodoo while practising things they see in movies.  While the older generations of Gypsies and Travellers know the difference, younger generation have fallen far from the old traditions, especially the old religion, and sadly, even among Gypsies and Travellers today, many in the age group of 60 years old and younger, only know Voodoo from Horror movies and not from their grandmother's actual practice.

I say this because my mother and her Atwaters wanted me to join then as a "figure head" for their cause. They specifically demanding I summon demons, make voodoo dolls, cast curses, and use magic to kill the list of people living at the addresses on the list they had. In short they attempted to hire me to be a quasi-hit-man for them.

When I explained to them that this is not what Voodoo is about, Voodoo is peaceful, non-violent, we shun weapons and hurtful acts of all types, they lashed out at Etiole -who was not here, it was just me they were yelling at, yelling about him. My mother called Etiole a demon, said he was my familiar, said "I know you work with demons, you can't lie to me" and "you cast death curses on people all the time you lying little bitch, you just won't do it for me because you want to spite your mother, after all I do for you!

I made a Twitch livestream video that same day, telling what was going on and what I feared was about to happen, because I have seen these same two Gypsy clans go to war with each other before.

Well, I have too much to deal with with my health. I'm bedridden 15+ hours a day, so I do nothing but play video games and write novels and edit novels, ALL of which I do on livestream - yes, I livestream for 12 to 15, sometimes 19 hours each and every single day, and I have 92TB of hard drive full of that video footage all the way back to 2015 - I have every minute of every day of my life not only live streamed on Twitch, but I have ALL the video footage files, which mean I have footage of all the attacks, all the yelling at my car, all the demanding I cast death spells, all the trying to hire me as a hit man - all of it. I have over 15k hours of video footage. And because most of the attacks happened during a livestream, there are also hundreds of witness online who saw and heard the attacks and threats already, seeing and hearing them as they were happening.

Going back to the suspecting someone is impersonating me... My mother makes the claim that it is her right to cut the wires off my Biddeford apartment building, because she claims I've put her name, address, and where she goes online. I've never put her address or name or where she goes on the internet. Don't know what she's talking about. I gave her the FBI contact info and told her that if she actually is seeing "me" posting this stuff she claims I'm posting online, then she needs to forward that stuff to the FBI because it's someone impersonating me, and that was one of the things the FBI has suspected was happening so they are actively looking for that kind of stuff. They are trying to get to the bottom of who it is spreading these wild, crazy ass rumours and lies, both doing it in my name and doing it about me.

They've already located a shut down a few dozen impersonation of me, social network accounts, and so far, to date, all of them have belonged to just one person: my mother's brother Mervin Bruce Atwater. Well, it makes sense that HE would know her home address and where she goes, seeing how, for the past decade they were kind of joined at the hip and did everything together. Yeah, of course he knows where she lives and what car she drives and where she goes. 

Also, I never went to school, she did not allow it, There were several legal/court battles between my mom and the OOB school and the state of Maine ad the department of education throughout the 1980s, over the fact that she was actively refusing to allow me to attend school. So I never learned to do math or numbers. I don't know how to count or do money or any stuff like that. And numbers don't register in my head for some reason. People will tell me a phone number or home address and 5 seconds later my mind is blank on the numbers. I can't remember them. That's why when something like an attack happens I write down the tie and date immediately and keep it on a chart - I have a list, day by day, all times and dates of every attack since June 2001. I wouldn't be able to remember what happened when if I didn't keep a list like that.

Well, my mother knows all of this, so she knows even if she had told me her address, which she didn't, I wouldn't have remembered it long enough to even write it down.

In June 2021, I found out she moved, because I was walking my dog -we walk 3 to 4 miles a day, all over Biddeford, Old Orchard, and Scarborough, because I am trying to rebuild my leg muscles after having been bedridden since 2013, with only minimal movement- Doctors said I would never walk again and I aim to prove them wrong and well I have, because I am at least walking enough to walk my dog each day, but it is very difficult, and every step I take feels like a sword stabbing up my right leg and into my spine, because of the nerve damage. It is why I walk so slow and limp so bad, because it hurts terrible to step down.

Well, one day I was walking my dog and all of a sudden, there's my mother, telling me that I'm standing in front of her house and I was surprised, because last I knew she lived several miles away. I had no clue she lived 2 streets over from me and that she had done so for 3 years!

I don't know how she expects me to even know where she goes considering I've had no contact with her in almost a decade now, not since the stunt she pulled April 10, 2015 when she broke into my motorhome, filled it with feces, and then locked her 13 cats in it to frame me for animal abuse. She did not expect the Old Orchard Beach police to arrive and confiscate her cats and then not give them back to her and she has been in a social media battle with several animal shelters, veterinarians, animal control officers, and police officers ever since. Most of her harassment of these people has been targeted at former OOB town hall worker DF  and OOB police officer WW , both of whom she has been harassing on FaceBook for the past 7 years. You can ask DF  and WW  and their family and friends on FaceBook, how bad it has gotten. In recent months she added a new person to her FaceBook harassment, I don't know their name, just that it's the ex-wife and 15 year old son of someone named Todd Murphy who recently died from being hit by a train in front of my Biddeford apartment on Nov 19, 2021. Sometimes she says his death was a suicide, other times she says he was murdered and thrown in front of the train. I don't know which it is, I didn't know him, and only have her word for any of it.

In her mind, the way the whole thing was supposed to happen was: you police were supposed to confiscate my motorhome and she would take her cats and go home. 

What actually happened was: you police confiscated her cats, and I kept my motorhome.

She has spent the last 7 years harassing every pet shelter and rescue in New England, trying to find the cats.

In answer to questions about the cats from April 2015—those were cats belonging to Wayne Whitten of Biddeford, Maine. I was never able to talk about it because of the court case going on between Wayne's family and the Atwaters.

To make matters even worse, the cats were not hers, either. Rather, they belonged to Wayne Whitten and his daughter. My mother had stolen the cats from Wayne, in an act of retaliation, after Wayne refused to hand over to her, his father, William's land.

If you do not know, there are several polygamists in my family, all on the Atwater side. My mother is one of them. Wayne Whitten is one of her many Husbands, and therefore Wayne Whitten is also my stepfather.

In May 2010, my mother took a chainsaw to my 1964 Dodge 330. But it was not the ONLY car she attacked that week. Two days earlier, she took a chainsaw to Wayne's black 1970s vintage Dodge. AFTER, she locked her Old English sheepdog in the trunk and left it there for 6 months, and then tried to say that Wayne killed her dog, when in fact, she had.

Many people in Biddeford, Maine knew Wayne Whitten and his father William Whitten, and both men were known for the wild tales of Wayne's 5th wife, Jeannie, who daily beat him, gathered her older brothers to beat him, and hospitalized him several times, multiple times nearly killing him. That wife is also my mother.

Unfortunately for Wayne Whitten, no one would believe him about how violent and psychotically deranged his wife was and in the space of only a few weeks, his father, then his cats, and then Wayne himself all died. Because of the violent nature of Wayne's death, details were withheld from the public.

Three cats—the white cat Old Lady, and the 2 tabby's Trouble and Sassy, were already dead before the police arrived, and all three were diagnosed as having been force-fed rat poison. This is why, even though my mother put 13 cats in my motorhome, the police only took 10 cats.

Wayne's father, William, owned the cape house next door to Ben's Flooring in Biddeford, behind Walmart. In his 90s, with his health failing, my mother arrived demanding William sell his house and give her the money for a down payment on a mansion in Kennebunk. The exact same demands she is now making at me, these 7 years later. She did this to William Whitten in 2015, and Wayne's daughter to this day maintains that my mother's threats, demands, and harassment were the major contributing factors of William's death.

My mother took the Whitten cats, intending to hold them hostage, until William sold his house and gave her the money. This was why she hid the cats in my motorhome. This is also why when the police showed up asking about the cats, I had no clue what they were talking about and let them search the motorhome telling them there were no cats in it. My mother broke into my motorhome and hid the cats in there, apparently 3 days earlier, and I was unaware she had done this so was unaware the cats were there.

This is also why, when police officer Will Watson asked how many cats there were and what their names were, why I did not know how many cats there were and only knew the names of a couple of the cats that I had heard Wayne talk about.

William Whitten died while the cat fiasco was going on.

Wayne, realizing what my mother had done to his cats, tried to get them back, but he died a few weeks later.

Wayne, his father, and his cats all died a few weeks apart from each other.

My mother went around triumphantly bragging that she had gotten Wayne's father's land, via being Wayne's wife, and set about to the process of buying the house in Kennebunk. And got slapped with a reality check when the two wills got read and both William and Wayne had left everything they had to Wayne's daughter.

In raging inferno, my mom lashed out at Wayne's daughter, and a lawsuit happened, with Wayne's daughter charging my mother with kidnapping the cats, and using rat poison to slowly poison Wayne. A massive Facebook war happened between the Whittens and the Atwaters as my mother got her Atwater thugs involved, and the Whitten's fled in terror once they realized the rumours that my mother was part of the Scottish Mafia, was in fact, very, very, very true.

To this day, the remains of Wayne Whitten's surviving family live in mortal terror, daily vandalism, and barbaric levels of harassment at the hands of my mother, and her brothers Bruce and David and David's sons and grandsons.

More details of what happened can be found here: Amphibious Aliens: https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html

And no, for the people who are confused, Amphibious Aliens has nothing to do with aliens. It is about a homeless man whom my mother and her brother Bruce, over hyper focused on, and together my mother and Bruce created an elaborate alien abduction and demon possession hoax, so they could try to scam several dozen locals out of their houses.

This cat stealing, house stealing scam is something they have been doing to people all over Southern Maine since BEFORE I was even born. The earliest known attempt at this house stealing scam dates back to their father David Henry Atwater and a house he stole in the 1930s in Rumford Maine. At the time, my grandfather used the hoax of an angel from heaven coming down and telling him to take the Rumford farm. And at the time, my grandfather was a transport driver for Honey Fizt's ACTUAL Boston Mafia, which is WHY, the Atwaters make the claim to be the Scottish Mafia. Their claim is that because they are Scottish, and their father worked for Honey Fitz that they are Mafia. But the Atwaters are neither Scottish nor Mafia, both claims are outright lies that are nothing more than part of the scam they run.

As can be seen with BOTH what she has spent the past 5 decades doing to Etiole and what she is currently doing to Todd Murphy's family on and off FaceBook, you can see how much my mother hyper focuses on homeless people and abusing their friends and relatives and using the homeless person's homelessness as excuses for the scams she runs.

That she spent decades running a land stealing scam in Etiole's name, and now is running another land stealing scam in Todd Murphey's name is utterly deplorable.

And you people who wonder WHY I've not had contact with my mother in 30 years, WHY I shun her. WHY I hate her and her Atwater thugs so much... you are right now witnessing it live as they do it all over again, this time taking advantage of the pain and suffering of Todd Murphy's family to try to steal land from people in the name of a homeless man who was killed by a train.

I am thoroughly and utterly disgusted with my mother's vile abuse of the Murphy family and what she is doing in the name of a dead man.

I've said it thousands of times before and I'll say it again: The Atwaters are scum.

The Atwaters devote their lives to abusing homeless people and the families of those homeless people, just so they can run their filthy scams, and I’m fucking sick of the Atwaters and their filth.


She has had several retaliation attacks happen to her, done by family and friends of the people she's harassing on FaceBook. the retaliation attacks included a Biddeford Public Works road grader being driven into her yard and over her car in 2017. Two additional attacks on her next car, the following year. And in June 2021 a man driving a green pick up truck drove into her yard and beat her car with a 2by4. (Note, I did not witness any of these attacks on her cars and only have her word on what happened.)

All of these people she is fighting with on FaceBook, I don't know, they are people she knows and they are not on my FaceBook and I blocked her and all the Atwaters from my FaceBook back in May 2015, when her and her nieces and nephews and siblings were posting death threats on my FB profile. One cousin cousin name, posted pictures of herself carrying a machine gun (not automatic rifle - but a machine gun - the big type you put on a tripod and have a belt full of hundreds of bullets slung over your shoulder- similar to a gatland gun but not as big, though she had pictures of her gatland gun too that she was also posting on my FB) She'd write under the pictures "This is the gun I'm going to shoot you with"... her husband was one of the guys arrested after the Jan 6 attack, by the way - the guy in Florida with the Nancy something's ( forget her last name, I think it began with a P? I don't know American politics, I find it all confusing so I'm not sure who the Nancy woman was). He stole her pulpit and  he was posting pictures of him stealing on FB. Her mom is aunt L, and she and he were among the 23 cousins that the FBI has been trying to find because they supplied a lot of the guns for the Jan 6th attack, according to posts they made on FB. I don't know, I never saw any such posts because I have them all blocked n FB since 2015. Her brother cousin name was also posting pictures of him carrying guns and writing death threats underneath on my FB wall. His messages said: "I'm an ordained Aaronic Priest and god has given me permission to blow your brains out with this gun". cousin name and cousin name are 2 of David and aunt L's 15 adult kids -all are 40 to 60+ years old. David is my mom's oldest brother, he's in his 80s. He is very violent, there has never been an occasion of him arriving on my land in Old Orchard, that did not involve his trying to kill me, usually by strangling me. He is the most violent of all the uncles. Several times while he's been here he beat up his adult kids by hitting them in the face with weights off of dumbells. 

Most of the Atwater men are retired Marines, and all of them are over 6'2" the tallest, is 7'3". These guys are HUGE and are all weightlifters. You don't want to cross one of the Atwater uncles, they are former Marines trained in weaponless combat. David runs a compound in Palmyra.. . and you might have just seen his crew in the news - they were doing a squatter's rights takeover of that big mansion next door to Stephen King in Bangor and somehow the place caught fire. The news reports didn't mention Stephen King and went out of their way to get camera angles that kept King's house out of the news, but I'm as familiar with Bangor streets as I am Old Orchard and Biddeford streets, so I recognized which house it was on the news, that got attacked by the squatters doing a take over war. 

My uncle and his kids are trying to confiscate the land all around Stephen King - they say they have the right to because no one was ever paid any money for being in The Thinner movie. That happened about 2 weeks ago, the news did not list the squatters name, but like I said, it's my uncle and his crew, they been focusing on the 20 or so houses around King's big red Victorian, for over a decade now. They tried to get me to help them do it, that's how I found out. They made the claim that because I'm an author I should be able to reason with Stephen King and convince him to hand over his red Victorian house in exchange for his never paying them for being in The Thinner. I told them to get lost and burn in hell. Just because I'm an author and King's film crew filmed a part of Thinner on my land in Old Orchard doesn't mean I know King himself, I never even met him, and them being obsessed with stealing land from people is just out of control. 

The whole Atwater clan does this. They don't see anything wrong with moving in, setting up camp, and driving the rightful land owners off their land at gunpoint.

They act like it's a family tradition to steal land from people, via squatting, harassment, corrosion, death threats, and outright just forging deeds and switching the files, like they did with my land.

And that's the issue we have going on right now. My mother has gone on a psych crazed warpath vendetta of taking my land or else, and or else so far has included her twice now having my father shove things up the tailpipe of my car, both times doing lots of damage t the car when I started the engine and everything inside blew up because of the fuel line blocked. And twice now - each time the same day as attacking my Volvo cutting the wires off the Biddeford apartment as well, in the same driveway where the car was parked.

Both times they admitted to doing it and both times used the justification that I deserved it because I was refusing to sell my land and give my mother the money to buy a house in Kennebunk. She says she has to move to Kennebunk to "get away from the niggars invading Maine, Kennebunk is all white they don't allow no niggars". She's very crude and vulgar and has an extreme hatred for black people and hangs around online with some group that calls itself "the workers of iniquity" which claims to be "a branch of the Ku Klux Klan because the original Ku Klux Klan is not strict enough".

Throughout 2016 people wearing KKK-like white robes and hood showed up in Old Orchard to make threats about my land. Back then I was unaware that my mother was friends with such a group. The robes are NOT KKK robes, the KKK robes are very distinctive, covered with fancy bead work and embroidery, and are not white, but are usually green or red or blue or yellow. It's a Hollywood myth that the KKK wears white, and that's how you can tell REAL KKK from fake wannabe's pretending to be KKK. Real KKK is not wearing white sheets and white pillowcases. The real KKK is a church that is organized similar to Catholic church and all their robes mean specific ranks, also they don't wear hood, they wear mitre hats like the pope does, and have a veil mask over their eyes. So its pretty easy to identify real KKK from fakers in white sheets, and the people showing up in my yard were not real KKK, they were fakers literally wrapped in white bed sheets with pillow cases over their heads. 

Well, various white-power groups show up in the area, that's nothing unusual. Neo-Nazi, Sovereign Citizens, ect. They've always been around Maine, so much so that there are KKK and white power history museums in Maine -one is in Saco. So, I didn't think much of the white hood idiots in my yard. We are Gypsies, white hooded idiots are a part of our non-white life.

Well, here's the thing: we are not white. My mother's mother was not a Gypsy. Eva Viola Little John Dyer Atwater was half Kickapoo Native American and half black. He mother was 100% Native America. Her father 100% black. My mom is 1/4 black, 1/4 Native American, and 1/2 Gypsy of Roumania/Arabian/Middle Eastern descent. There is not one drop of white blood in her. Which is why I was surprised to hear her say: "I gotta move to Kennebunk to get away from the niggars invading Maine, Kennebunk is all white they don't allow no niggars". Yes, Kennebunk is all white, and look at the news, the black school teach who lives in Old Orchard Beach and worked at Kennebunk schools is daily bombarded with swastika painted on her car while she's teaching class. I can't drive my Volvo down main street Kennebunk with out getting pelted with rocks and crowds running off the sidewalks screaming "death to Gypsy scum!" It's dangerous t drive through Kennebunk and not be white -they pull us coloured folks out of cars if we get stopped at a red light. Kennebunk is legendary for being the most white power town in the state of Maine.

One has only to look up the international news reports of the 10 year old school children dragging their black teacher into the streets and almost beating her to death -in 2020. That happened barely a year ago. Kennebunk is the most hostile anti-black town in America and they are proud of it, brag about it, and since the BLM stuff of 2020, Kennebunk has gotten ten times worse. And, she's been seeing all that in the news and wants to live there, and I'm not sure why, because like I said,  my mom is 1/4 black, 1/4 Native American, and 1/2 Gypsy of Roumania/Arabian/Middle Eastern descent and if she tries to buy a house there, and they find out she has black blood, they'll kill her. But she's all hyped up on a white power kick and wants to join Kennebunk's anti-black movement, and... I... I just don't understand it and I'm sure if that's actual why she wants to go thee or not.

There was a court case about the cats (3 different ones because the town hall dropped the case after evidence proved the cats were not mine and my mother had snuck them in my motorhome a few days earlier to try to frame me and then some MB guy crawled out of the woodwork to reopen the case a month later), which, for some reason was in my name, not her name, because the motorhome was mine, even though the cats were hers. Weirdly, half way through the court case the town hall dropped the case and some guy named MB Bureau took over it instead. Thing is, I don't know who this MB guy is. He's not anyone I have ever even met before and he was not at the court so I didn't meet him there either. He came in with lots of wild accusations about me harassing him, even though I had no clue who he was and had never heard of him before. MB's lawyer took photo copies of a conversation on Twitter between me and JB (the guy the FBI arrested for embezzling $30k out of the OOB town hall bank account - $3million in OOB tax money went missing, the rest was never found as far as I know. The Twitter conversation was this JB sending me death threats because he had just been released from prison, and he was claiming I had put him there, even though I didn't know him or that he'd been in prison or that he had stolen money from OOB town hall. According to FBI, JB was a church friend of my mother's and he and town manager Jim Thomas, had been Bishopric counsellors to Mormon Church Bishop DK and the 3 of them and several others from the Saco LDS church had taken over the OOB town hall in around 2010 and embezzled $3million in town taxes. Apparently my Uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater, Richard Merlin Atwater, and aunt B had been involved, been involved and they had used fake social media accounts in my name to contact JB so he thought I knew him, that's why he contacted me on my real account after getting out of prison. I don't know the details I only know the small bit of info the FBI told me to let me know why this JB guy was contacting me.) For some reason, this MB guy, said the Twitter conversation with this Joel guy was about him. 

And apparently according to the FBI, this MB guy owns the old abandoned logging road across the street from me, which is numbered as 139 Portland Ave. I don't know, that road has been abandoned at least since the 1970s, I had no idea any one lived down there, but FBI says this MB guy does. I've been at 146 since 1975, and I've never see any one live there. FBI says there is another driveway on a different side that they probably use. Any ways, for some odd reason this MB guy took over the court case with the cats, only he suddenly said it was about me being transgender (but I'm not transgender, so I don't know why he said I was) His lawyer came into court saying I was a man pretending to be a woman, and here's where it got really weird, the lawyer copied what he SAID was an "About Me" page off of my website (eelkat.com) only what he copied was the about page for the main character of the novel series I write (I'm the author of 138 published novels). The series is about a male Elf who is possessed by a female parasitic alien jellyfish. So it's a female jellyfish wearing the body of a dead male Elf like a coat and passing herself off as him.

Well, this lawyer (Gene Libby) for this MB guy is waving THAT fictional character profile around in court, saying it was my personal about me page, and making the claim that I was a male to female transvestite who believed I was an Elf... and here's the kicker... his whole spiel was trying to convince the judge that I was insane so this MB guy could confiscate my land at 146 Portland Ave! It was the most bizarre thing, and the judge thought so too, because the judge tossed the whole thing out of court because the charges this MB guy had against me were so oddball off the wall nut job ridiculous. But the thing was, again, it was someone making wild claims that I had to hand them over my land, which is what keeps happening with every one of these weird attacks. And always, like both these 2 guys: JB and MB Bureau they are creepy ass strangers who crawl out of the woodwork, people I've never heard of before, making claims to being my friend (JB made the claim he was my best friend and said we talked all the time on FaceBook, but he wasn't on my FB and I'd never heard of him before. While MB Bureau in his court papers made the claim to be one of my uncles -he is not-and)

aunt B and aunt L of Bangor used to be putting stuff online about me and my brothers and JB would get it from aunt B and aunt L and forward it every where. This was in 2010 era, but I did not see the posts, because none of them is a FaceBook friend of me. The FBI however said they saw a lot of the posts, these people made, including several death threats. Seems likely something like that is happening again given the way people keep showing up here at the Biddeford apartment when no one even knew I was here.

I met aunt L about 3 times during my childhood, it's been 30+ years since I last saw her, and I've never spoken with her online or offline not once in my entire life.

aunt B I meet 10 or 12 times during my childhood, and likewise it's been 30+ years since I last saw her, except for 2 times. One in 2013 she showed up at my Biddeford apartment on Water St, with some medical scam idea she had that she wanted me to help her with. She said she was working at Blue Cross/Blue Shield and had found a way to get people's insurance money because a lot of people didn't file claims; she said she was also an EMT, and she could take the records from one job to cross with the other job, to have people's insurance money forwarded to a POBox she owned. I told her I wanted nothing to do with it and to get lost. I don't know how true any of the stuff she said was. I don't know if she worked at those places or could do the scam she was claiming or not.

aunt B showed up again in 2016, at the Gazebo Park (might be named Mechanic's Park?) on the Saco River by the water treatment plant. I was there walking my dog, and my mother showed up with an uncle Peter (now deceased) who was visiting from Utah. They were having a picnic. aunt B and Bruce showed up to trash everything, steal the food, and then leave. They were yelling and screaming the whole time. They acted drunk, except I didn't think they drank. I don't know. Mormons don't drink, not usually.

So I don't know aunt B and aunt L otherwise. I know nothing about them. Have never had contact with them, have never spoken with them online or offline. So, I'm puzzled as to why they were posting things online about me in 2010, or why they were acting like they knew me, when neither of them has ever been a part of my life or know anything about me.

But, they make claims that I say and do various things that I don't say or do. The list of things they've accused me of is massive and kind of crazy and include the claims that I am a prostitute, and that I am a Mafia gang leader ... like I said, it's just wild and also very slanderous and I'm sick of it.

Back in 2019 when my mother got her car, she had it over a month before I even knew she had gotten a car. I found out she had it when she flipped out saying I was online telling people she bought a car. And it turned out is was aunt B and Brucie online telling everyone she got a car, but I had told them,  even thought I had never talked to either of them since 2013 when FBI told me cut off all contact with them

aunt B and Bruce and aunt L all 3 are constantly telling people I said things, that I never said. 

I told you people been showing up talking about Todd and claiming I said things online about him, but I don't even know who he is or what they are talking about. It almost looks like someone is online impersonating me.

A few weeks ago an old man walked up to me, asked if I was EelKat and then asked me why I kept emailing him, and I said I don't email anyone cause I don't use email. He said some days he gets over 300 emails a day from someone claiming to be EelKat 

Last time my car had this problem was same day my father cut the internet on my mom's orders. Suspicious my car has same problem again, same day internet goes off again. It went off while my mother was here

aunt B showed up at water st day after golf club attack, but I never knew how she found out , I never told anyone online about it . Her and Bruce knew about it some how before any one else.  They wanted me to use my injury to help them run a medical scam and they were pissed when I refused to. They started spreading lies about me online because of that. That was Nov 2013

aunt B and Bruce knew about the cats and DAY BEFORE it happened. aunt B posted on my FaceBook wall "the next head nailed to the door will be yours" the day before any heads were nailed to door

I think it's aunt B online saying stuff about me and my mom, because she did it before and because FBI was here asking about her going down to Washington Jan 6 attack, but I didn't yet know the Jan 6 attack had even happened. They said aunt B aunt L and 23 cousins had been down there and they FBI was trying to find them. 

Old Orchard police and Biddeford police and a detective have all shown up asking about aunt B and aunt L and 23 cousins as well. But again I don't know anything because I not had contact with them. But FBI, 2 police departments and a detective are all saying aunt B and aunt L and 23 cousins are making claims about me, in connection to bombs and ISIS .

That's how I found out Paul Martel was in prison. According to FBI agents, Paul Martel built the bombs for the 2013 Boston marathon and the 2013 bomb at South Maine Community College and put the college bomb in my class to make it look like I made the Boston bomb. That's why the FBI showed up to begin with. They were at the college investigating both bombs that happened the same day

FBI said they believed the whole thing was aunt B and Bruce idea, but Paul martial was the one who actually built the bomb and sold it to ISIS, and put the second bomb in my class at college so Paul Martel was the only one they could arrest. FBI is trying to arrest aunt B because they think she's the one behind it. They said the whole thing seems to have started because Scott went to prison for selling drugs at Scarborough downs and for some reason aunt B thinks I'm the one who turned him in, even though I've not seen or heard from Scott since he was 8 years old

FBI thinks the attack on the cats was aunt B retaliating because Paul Martel got arrested. 

When Dickie died also in 2013, after the bomb in Boston but before the golf club attackers aunt B was with him taking charge of his medicine and his official cause of death was an overdose of his medicine, with a not saying unable to determine if accident or suicide. I found out this 2 days after he died when Jacksonville County state police from Florida showed up here in Maine to interview me about where I was the day Dickie died  because when he died aunt B called 911 and told the police I had killed him. 

The FBI thinks the golf club attack was aunt B retaliating because police didn't arrest me for murdering Dickie like she had demanded they do

FBI is full focused on arresting aunt B and Bruce. There's no evidence Bruce is dead. All evidence points to him being in New Zealand. 

FBI believes Bruce faked death because FBI was moving in to close and he didn't want to take the fall for what aunt B is doing 

In 1996 and 1997 aunt B sent out lots of emails to the family claiming the emails had been written by me. I did not have email, internet, or even a computer yet. She got Dickie and David and Joey in raving warpath over it. That's the summer they all showed up talking about Etiole and amphibious aliens and alien abduction. aunt B was the one who started all of that stuff about Etiole, who I never called Etiole. Etiole is not his name, it's always been the word the Atwaters used to describe him (it means man from the stars or alien it's a French word. I don't know French, aunt B is the one who knows French, so I never would have given him a French name) Bruce and Dickie went to a bunch on MUFON forums from 1996 to 2007 spreading lies about me and Etiole calling him a demon and alien and claiming I was an alien abducted. I found out about it in 2007 after they'd already been doing it for 11 years. I don't think aunt B has ever stopped sending out emails about Etiole while pretended to be me, I think she is still doing it.

My father was the one who told the Atwaters about Etiole. My father and Dickie both called him the white monkey. In 1994 and 1996 Bishop Morgan asked me to his office and showed me a bunch of letters, all of them signed "The White Monkey, OST". He said the letters were written to sound like I had written them but he said he'd seen my handwriting before and knew I hadn't written these. He wanted to know if I recognized the handwriting. Some had been written by daddy. Others had been written by Dickie. President Earnshaw later called me in for similar letters he had received and again the white monkey letters were written by mostly daddy and some Dickie all pretending to be me, trying to make it look like I was pretending to be Etiole. In total 16 Bishops and 2 stake presidents had contacted me over the years about white monkey letters

The white monkey letters stopped in 2007 when the psychiatrist at Biddeford hospital diagnosed daddy as having schizophrenia and put him on psychiatric medicine. Since 2007 no one has mentioned Etiole or white monkey, until the week Todd died when people started showing up in Biddeford driveway yelling about Etiole and calling him a suicide demon

The white monkey belonged to Helen pearly and has nothing to do with Etiole at all. In 1978 Helen pearly had a pet white monkey that got lost. Me and cousin Micheal saw it in the woods out back and tried to catch it. We found Etiole the same day. Etiole is a homeless man who lives behind my land in the woods. Me and Micheal took him food. For some reason because we found him while looking for Helen pearly white monkey my father and the Atwaters got it in their heads that Etiole was a demon alien shape shifter who turned into a white monkey to lure me and Micheal into the woods. And that's how their stupid ass alien and demon rumours got started.

I used to let him sleep in the Dodge at night, that's why people started saying the car was haunted. They said Etiole was a demon and the car was demon possessed. My father and Bruce used to stay up all night debating what kind of demon Etiole must be and kept calling me a demon child and a witch and saying I was demon possessed and they called Etiole my familiar and said I summoned him to cast curses and death spells. Bruce believed all that stuff as actual fact and after Bruce left for the night my dad would joke about how gullible Bruce was and how easy it was to convince him demons lived in my car. From there the rumours ended up on the internet through the Heaven's Gate group, that Bruce was a member of at the time. They were a group of around 200 people who went from one UFO forum to the next spreading rumours about me and Etiole. They did that for 11 years before I found out Bruce and his UFO friends were doing it. 

I found out when people started showing up in Old Orchard with beeping equipment claiming they were here the capture Etiole while calling him an amphibious alien and EBE and calling me "EelKat Etiole's friend" I did not use the username EelKat online and none of my books about EelKat (the black bobcat) had ever been published so there was no reason for internet people to know either the name EelKat or Etiole.  I was using the username xavychup online not EelKat, that's why my email address is xavychup not EelKat. EelKat is something Grammy called me back in the 1970s because she said eels and cats were my spirit animals. I never called myself EelKat online or offline so only the Atwaters had ever heard that word before and yet in 2007, I spent the entire summer with endless people showing up in my yard at my tent and all calling me EelKat and all looking for Etiole. 

Because I was living under the tarp I had no access to internet yet so had no clue what was going on online. I went to the library and searched Etiole and EelKat to see what came up and I found tens of thousands of forum posts and interviews and articles all written by Bruce and Dickie, including interviews with Buddy Hopkins, David Mack, and David Icke. All the stuff they said was how they had this demon possessed niece who had been abducted by aliens and has brought an alien back from the mother ship with her and was now protecting him. Every one of the forum posts. Interviews and articles had my full name, my old Orchard address, my email, and my old Orchard phone number listed. That was why so many people were showing up at the tent. In 2006 to 2009. The whole thing of people calling me a Witch and saying about curses and death spells and aliens and demons was started by daddy saying that stuff to Bruce and then Bruce and Dickie spreading it online for 11 years from 1996 to 2007

I started using the name EelKat online BECAUSE my uncles had spent 11 years calling me that on MUFON forums, and when I found out about it and started contacting all the forum admins, I had to tell every one:

"I'm Wendy Christine Allen. I'm the one you all call EelKat, Etiole's friend, the REAL EelKat, friend of the REAL Etiole,  and I'm here to slap every damned one of you with protection from harassment orders. I'm tired of the slander and lies you people are spreading about me of fucking UFO websites. I'm not an alien abductee, I've never claimed to be, until this morning I didn't even know what an alien abductee was. Etiole is not an alien. Etiole is not a demon. He's a local homeless man who has a skin deformity, so he hides in the forest because people are scared of him because of what he looks like, and they beat him up and bully him. The people telling you he's an alien are my uncles, who the ring leaders behind beating him up and bullying him, and I'm quite upset to find out they've been doing it online for quite some time and I'm only just finding out about it now, because earlier this week, I had 30,000 people in my driveway, trying to catch him while screaming that he was an amphibious alien and EBE. You UFO crazies are insane, and I want you people out of my yard. My uncles are lying to you about me and Etiole and you'll idiots for believing them."

I created an EelKat username EVERYWHERE just so I could post that message to every place my uncles had posted that fucking ass alien abduction shit about me and Etiole. THAT, is why you saw me start to use the EelKat username in 2007, when I was always xavychup everywhere before that.

And that is also why I do NOT have an EelKat email.  I've had the xavychup email since 1994, I still have it. And anyone using an eelkat email to contact you isn't me, because I don't have an eelkat email. It always has been and still is xavychup.

Last I knew aunt B and Bruce and aunt L and Bruce's daughters and David's kids and grandchildren were all still continuing to spread demon and alien lies about me and Etiole and were still putting my real name and address on everything. In 2019 they were putting my old Orchard address my high street address and also my water st address even though I was no longer at water street on thousands of forum posts and Facebook posts. In 2019 they were making several hundred posts daily across all there accounts and I found 27 fake EelKat accounts owned just by Bruce himself alone. They were all things like eeelkat, ee1kat, 33lkat, etc. Slightly spell different to look like it was me, yo someone looking quick and not paying attention.  They are likely still doing it and I assume they are doing the same to my mother as well. 

Also I don't even know what mothers address is. How could I put it anywhere? I didn't even know she moved until last summer and apparently she moved a few years ago. No one ever told me she had moved. 

Just like the saying about me saying she got a car. I didn't know about the white car until she came over in it to see Mickey last may and apparently she had a few cars in between. Last car I knew was the black one. I didn't even know she had a new car, let alone more than one.

No one ever told me those things, not her or any one else so it's utterly stupid for her to think I could put her address or cars online. Only people who knew about her address and cars could put them online.

Don't forget she never even told me when Dickie or Bruce died. Both times I found out from the FBI showing up to investigate accusations that I had murdered them

I'm the bed ridden, crippled by multiple attacks. The November 14, 2013 golf club attack, I was almost healed from, but the June 2016 shopping cart attack re opened the 2013 injury and doctors can't operate this time because of the bone shards severing my spinal column. I'm crippled for the rest of my life and no one in this family ever cared. 

Both attacks the FBI wanted to talk to my parents and they refused to talk to him both times. My baby was murdered in the first attack. I was 8 months pregnant and all any of them would do was gibberish about "rosemary baby" and say there was no baby because it was a demon because it was Etiole's. My parents and the Atwaters hate Etiole that much, that they shun the existence of my baby and act like it was never there. That's how much they hate me. That's how cruel and hate filled they are towards me. They spent the last 50 years calling me demon possessed and them saying that is WHY local people attack me and killed my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life. 

I am in bed 15 or more hours a day, I can barely sit up, I can barely stand up long enough to cook, I have to wear adult diapers since 2013 because half my organs don't work any more because the nerves from those organs to my spine are cut off. My hands shake so bad that it takes me hours to eat a single meal. I can't go back to college, I can't go back to work. But do they care? No. Not my mother. Not my father. Neither of them give a shit. They are both too damned selfish thinking about their own greed to ever once lift a finger to help me. Daddy treats me like a fucking slave and my mother is so far out of my life shunning me because bishop kenning in Saco ward told her too that she hasn't got a clue how bad things are.

I'm not doing a damned thing to any of them. I mind my own business. I write my novels. I don't contact them. I don't talk to them. I don't talk about them.  Someone is clearly pretending to be me online and is slandering me and getting sick of it. My mother flips out about everything thing under the sun and I never have a clue what she's talking about, because I never did or said any of the things she accuses me of. And my father and the Atwaters do the same thing. Some one is out there pretending to be me to get them worked into a frenzy just to sit back and laugh while watching my mother, my father, and the Atwaters be too damned stupid to think. My mother and my father and the Atwaters are all filled with so much pure hatred for me that it takes nothing to convince them to attack me. And whoever it is posting online pretending to be me, knows that and is taking advantage of it. 

I'm too damned sick and crippled to even attempt to do half the crazy shit my mother and my father are accusing me of. And what's worse, my father is right here in the same apartment with me. He sees me every day, he knows how bad off my health is. 

Look how much I'm bleeding all over the house every day. Massive nose bleeds that last for hours to a time, not bleeding from my nose. Just coming out of my nose. I'm so dizzy I can't sit up for weeks to a time. I faint and blackout when I try to get up to go to the bathroom. The pain in my hip and pelvis and knee and spine is so bad I can't even move my fingers to type my novels. 

And look at what they do. Do they really think I'm physically capable of doing the things they accuse me of? They are so damned self centred and paranoid. It's all I can do just to sit up and eat something, how the hell do they think I can do the stuff they accuse me of? My day is spent focusing on trying to get my leg to move so I can make a meal, I don't even have time to think about them. 

It looks more and like my mother and my father are doing this stuff on purpose to try to kill me. My father knows how bad off my heart and lungs are and how difficult it is for me to breath after just a couple of steps. His mother left that land to me in her will in 1983. He stole it, had it put into his name illegally. He's been pissed ever since her death, because she gave everything to me not him. That's been a big problem for him for the last 40 years. He raves about it alongside his ravings about going to Utah taking him off the fire department. He hates my mother because of Utah, blames her every day for losing his fire department pension. He raves about it all night long every single night. He blames me for his mother disinheriting him. He raves about that all the time too. I was only grandchild That's why she left everything to me. Including the land that he stole and put in his name. That land is rightfully mine, his mother gave it to me, and he can't stand it. He's needling my mother about the land just to spite his mother.

He's only trying to get the land away from me because he is mad that the town didn't take it. His mother wanted it to stay in the family. It had been in her family since 1530. Her family was the original settlement family of old Orchard and my land is that spot that the first house in Old Orchard was built.  My father stopped paying taxes to spite his mother and lose the land. He said so many times. He was angry when I bought the land back from the town. He still is. He wants it out of the family because his mother wanted it in the family. That's why he's trying to turn my mother against me over the land. Because he gates his own mother that much.

Keep in mind the 4 door white truck showed up at my workplace daily. Even though I never knew ahead of time what store I would be working at. I was a retail merchandiser and stocked shelves at dozens of stores all over the state. Walmart's every where, CVS, khols, sometimes local, sometimes as far as Freeport and once in Vermont and once in Massachusetts.  I got the notice of which store to be at 15 minutes before I left. So the only person who ever knew where I was going was my father. 

And yet the 4 door white truck would also arrive ahead of me and be waiting. They didn't follow me, they got their first.

And the police caught the truck and the driver in 2017. Kathy BR owned the truck. Her son was the driver.

The smith's are my parents friends. My mother's visiting and home teachers for years.

Kathy was the district emergency dispatch for all the towns in the area, not just old Orchard. That's why none of the 911 calls went through during the attacks by the 4 door white truck. He only attacked while she was on duty. She never forwarded any of the calls so officers never were told to come help me.

That includes the November 14, 2013 golf club attack in South Portland. But the college security officer made a report even though the police never arrived. That big black officer who was head of security was on duty and him and 2 student officers from the police academy made the report.

And FBI found the data from the calls, that never got forwarded to police, that's why Kathy BR lost her job. Because she's the one who tampered with the 911 call files.

Tim and Kathy BR both, not together, individually, arriving separately, both arrived at my tent multiple times throughout the entire year of 2013, saying they were coming to speak to me on behalf of someone who wanted to remain anonymous. So I never knew who sent them. Each time they arrived all they would say was that I had to tear down "the little yellow house" as they called the shop. 

August 8, 2013 the backhoe drove over the shop while I was at work on the food truck down by the pier.

I never saw Tim or Kathy again after that. Not once. And these were people who stopped by to visit my parents daily for over 40 years. Since August 8, 2013 and the backhoe attack on my house, Kathy and Tim have gone to alarming extreme levels to avoid running into me. They just down the street, on one of the private drives, so it's difficult to avoid running into me, and we used to see them a few times a week at local grocery stores. They both, if they see me in a store, literally throw whatever they are carrying across the store and run out of the store like they have a pack of rabid wolves on their heels. It's pretty fascinating thing to see.

My cousin and next door neighbour Tim Murphy was murdered that same week, a few days before the backhoe. His body was left at the cascade Ross road crossroad. 14 days later his head was left at the Portland Ave Ross road crossroad road. His mother put up the big white cross a month later. 

The 4 door white truck showed up a few days later. 

Tim Murphy had an identical truck. The police and FBI initially thought it was his, but his truck was later found.

Tim Murphy owned Etiole's swamp and was the one buying most of the food and supplies for Etiole. 

Tim Murphy was with me and Micheal the day we tried to catch Helen pearly white monkey and found Etiole. 

The FBI believes that Tim Murphy was killed by someone trying to frame Etiole and believes the murder was a retaliation over Tim Murphy refusing to sell the swamp land behind me. 

At the time the FBI was looking at DF Feeney as a suspect but DF Feeney's family was killed in a murder suicide and he too is now seen as someone who was being framed.

The swamp, sandpit, and pond behind me, the Murphys own that, and 3 people in their family have now died horrifically violent deaths because they, like me were protecting Etiole from the people who would kill him because they believed Bruce's demon and alien lies about Etiole. 

Look at what is being done to me. They drove a backhoe over my house and they murdered my baby and they crippled me, all days apart.

Look at what is being done to the Murphys. And they're massacring the Murphy family. Tim's death the same time as the attack on me.

And look at who screams the loudest hate for Etiole. Look WHO calls him a demon.

And look at WHO the FBI's number one suspect in all of this is.

My family laughs and jokes about this whole thing like they think it's a fucking game. People are dying and the FBI is not laughing. 

Look at WHO keeps attacking my car. Look at WHO keeps cutting the wires off the apartment. Vandalism. Harassment. Bullying. Threats. Evil people Evil things. By their fruits yea shall no them, for no good thing springs from dead wood. Those are small petty crimes, but they are still crimes. But it's far beyond petty crimes. The list of people who have been murdered is quite long now. 13 died just at the Boston marathon bombing. I'm crippled for the rest of my life, and so far, I'm the only person who was attacked who lived through an attack. Every one else they've attacked is dead. Most of them beheaded or killed in a bomb. 7 different bombs, including one in my classroom at college in 2013, two in my workplace in 2015 and 2016, the house in Old Orchard in 2006, and my doctor on Saco Ave in 2003 where the doctor the nurses and 21 patients were killed. And the FBI was on site for every one of them, and my family thinks it's funny to laugh and make jokes about all of it. Because that's they do since the day me and Micheal and Tim Murphy found Etiole

Do you realize for all the shit my parents have pulled,  they've never once apologized for anything. And you know why? Because they aren't sorry. They feel no guilt. They feel no shame. They feel no remorse. Why? Because they hate me. They always have. From the time I was old enough to walk both of them reminded me daily that I was supposed to be a boy to replace the baby boy that was born before me. That's why Grammy Helen was the one who was always with me until I was 8. And after that it was Grammy Eva. And then BW. 

Do you know how I found out Santa wasn't real? Grammy Helen died when I was 8. That year for Christmas there were no Christmas presents. There was just my parents arguing over which one of them should have lowered themselves to buy a gift for the mistake that committed the sin of not being born a boy. I remember that Christmas better than any other. Because that's when found out exactly how much my parents hated me and thought I was worthless because I was a girl.

Look at my MRI scans at the damage the foundation nail through my hip did. The mutilated bones that were shattered when I was 6 years old and no one took me to the hospital. I've walked on a broken leg for almost 50 years. 

Look at the jaw surgery I had to have when I was 42 to repair an injury done to me with a brick when I was 14. 

Look at the Gremlin, 1974 orange, obliterated by a sledgehammer. 

Look at what happened when I was awarded phi theta kappa. No one went to the award ceremony. My mother said it was stupid. My father spent the day raving calling me an educated damned fool. BW was at the temple with Rick. And people with golf clubs were waiting at my car.

Do you realize if just one single person had cared enough to be at the phi theta kappa awards my baby might not have been murdered and I might not be crippled now. 

Grammy Helen would beat my dad's ass for the shit he does to me. And Grammy Eva would be ashamed of the stuff my mother does. Neither Helen or Eva would have let them get away with the constant abuse and harassment.

As for what happened to my car March 9, 2022 - KRA vandalized my car and tried to make it look like my brother did it. KRA stuffed the tailpipe full of McDonald's ketchup packets, which is what caused the fuel line to blow up. I could have died. He tried to kill me and make it look like my brother who works at McDonald's did it so my brother would be blamed.

KRA did the same thing in November, because of some guy named Todd who I supposedly convinced to kill himself via may painting a "suicide demon" on my car. There is a picture of Etiole on my car, that is what they are calling "a suicide demon"



UPDATE: February 27, 2022:

Do not underestimate either my willingness or how far I will go to protect my murdered son's grave from being destroyed by the bastards who are the @FBI s number one suspects in having killed him. The ONLY reason that bitch is hell bent on digging up my farm is because she wants to destroy the evidence of my baby having been murdered by golf clubs.

I'm sick of my mother and my mothers shit head Atwater relatives. They won't stop focusing on the cats. They are lost in a delusional refusal to face reality and that is impeding the fbi investigation of the murder of my baby and the crippling of my spine, because all either of them will do is say there was no baby and tell everyone lies about me and I don't like it. My baby is dead and that has nothing to do with the cats and I'm sick of my mother and her filthy Atwater thugs both ignoring what happened at the college 2 years before the cat event happened AND daily arriving to bully me and say it was “RoseMary’s Baby” and not a real baby because it was a demon, because Etiole was a from.

 

Etiole is not a demon, my baby with him was not a demon, you murdered my fucking baby because you are retarded religion crazed jackasses. Get the fuck out of my life and go burn were evil people like you belong!

 

I'm tired of every time I mention the baby that was murdered November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College,  they wave their hand in my face and say, "no you're just upset about the cats". The cats happened May 14, 2015 and those cats were not mine, they were my mother's cats, that she hid in my motorhome because her landlord Nick didn’t know she had 13 cats in her Birch St apartment. And he evicted her a year later when he found out the cats were hers.

That's why SHE is the one making a fuss about them, not me. I'm not the one running around yapping about the cats constantly,  she is. I'm talking about my son. 

 

My baby boy that was murdered by 3 attackers wielding golf clubs in the SMCC parking lot. A blond woman whom the redhaired woman called Claire, a redhaired woman who the blond woman called Kendra, both in their 60sish, and a bald man in his 30ish.

 

I'm not talking about my mother's cats, I'm talking about my child. What the fuck is wrong with these people? 

 

As for my car … did you all forget when and why I painted it? May 12, 2014. Mother's day. The first mother day after my baby was murdered. I painted my Volo on mother's day to divert my mind from killing myself. That's why I painted my car 9 years ago and you all know that, I've said as much hundreds of times.

Ty Mother and the Atwaters are refusing to acknowledge the baby because also refuse to acknowledge Etiole, a local homeless Jewish man who is the baby's father. 

My Mother and the Atwaters are so damned bigoted and religion crazed that all they’ve ever done is call Etiole a demon or an alien, since the first day they ever saw him: September 23, 1978.

It’s been almost 50fucking years that they’ve harassed him because of what he looks like and harassed me because I won’t let them beat him to death. 

They fully 100% believe he is not human and they run around slandering him every chance they can get and they’ve been doing it for 50 fucking years now. 

And THAT is the ONLY reason, they are doing what they are doing right now. 

 

They have NO RIGHT to be on my land. They are fucking trespassing.

Because they are so damned brainwashed by their fucking religions, that they can’t stop believing anyone who is physically deformed MUST be a Demon.

 

And they’ve spent the last 9 years daily hounding me and whooping and cheering joyous celebration over “killing the demon” as they refer to my baby.

 

In you hadn’t watched the local news - January 2022 - there was a massive FBI raid on Main Street and Cutts Street Biddeford, Maine. 8 of the men who have been roaming Southern Maine beating up pregnant women with golf clubs, were arrested and are now in jail where they belong, soon to be moved to federal prison.

And THAT is what has got the Atwaters in a frenzy now, digging up my land in Old Orchard Beach. They are desperately trying to find my dead baby’s unmarked grave, because they know his gold club shattered skull is very damning evidence for them, now that the FBI made a move and started arresting a bunch of their thugs.

 

And those arrested that just happened, they happened because the FBI phone number was painted on my car and locals in Biddeford, came forward with witness testimony of the attacks.

 

What my mother and the Atwaters are doing is cruel and evil and hateful, and I’m sick of it.

They don’t care about or my life, and my baby or his life. As can be seen by the fact of how he died.

The FBI is still trying to ID the bond Claire woman and the redhaired Kendra woman. They caught the bald man with the 4 door white pick up truck, we now know who he is - the son of the Old Orchard Beach police dispatch woman, the woman who would never let any 911 calls begging for help while these attacks were happening, go through.

Don't be surprised if you see the signs - all 144 of them - go back up in my driveway. Because I'm fucking sick of being harassed, and the agreement to keep the signs down, specified that EVERYONE in Old Orchard Beach - ALL RESIDENTS would NEVER HARASS ME again. You people have broken your agreement. I'm painting new signs as we speak.

EVERYONE - includes real estate agents, developers, contractors, construction workers, and any Atwater bitch who thinks they have the right to daily show up at my Biddeford apartment to say: "What are we going to do about Wendy, she can't keep that land, I need a downpayment on a house, she is going to sell her land and give me the money or else!"

Burn in hell you fucking bitch, and take all your fucking Atwater shitheads with you.

There are more then 500 graves on my farm - more than half of them Native American, some of them buried as far back as the 1400s. I WILL NOT let you touch those graves. I take my job as the guardian of these graves VERY SERIOUSLY. And you WILL have an all out war on your hands if you dare touch them.

Now she's threatening to dig up the graves on my land.

My dead baby means a hell of a lot more to me, then her fucking house. She never gave a damn when my baby died, but look at what she did when the cats died. Her priorities are fucked up.

My dead baby means a hell of a lot more to me, then her fucking house. She never gave a damn when my baby was murdered. But look at what she did when the murderers returned and killed the cats!

Look at what she is STILL doing about the fucking cats!

That's all she cares about. Those damned dead cats and her glut lust to have a mansion in KennebunkPort.

Her priorities are fucked up.

She doesn't give a damn about Human life.

And you know what's worse, the FBI thinks she, her sister Barbara, her brother Bruce, and their friends Claire and Kendra, where the people wearing the fake KuKluxKlan robes and hoods on November 14, 2013, when they used golf clubs to beat my baby to death and break my spine leaving me crippled for the rest of my life. 

Her, Barbara, Bruce, Claire, and Kendra - those are the FBI’s #1 suspects in the murder of my baby, November 14, 2013.

And what the hell is with people mixing up me and my mother? 

I'm NOT the one hell bent on a house. I have been willfully homeless for decades I have no desire for the confines of a house. The one running around yapping hysterics about a house IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about cats. The one running around yapping hysterics about cats IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about Todd, I don't even know who Todd is! I don't know any one named Todd! The one running around yapping hysterics about Todd IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about Mark and Dan and Watson, I don't even know who Mark and Dan and Watson are! I don't know anyone named Mark or Watson and the only Dan I know is my cousin and it's clearly not him she's talking about. The one running around yapping hysterics about Mark and Dan and Watson IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one putting curses on people. I don't believe in curses. The one running around yapping hysterics about curses and claiming she's casting death spells on people IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about demons. I don't believe in demons. The one running around yapping hysterics about demons and calling Etiole a demon IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one calling Etiole a demons. I don't believe in demons. Etiole is a local homeless man and Etiole isn't even his name, I don't use his real name online to protect his identity. I'm not the one who calls him Etiole either. Etiole is the name the Atwaters call him. The one running around yapping hysterics about demons and calling Etiole a demon IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about aliens or UFOs or alien abduction. I don't believe in aliens or UFOs or alien abduction. The one running around yapping hysterics about aliens or UFOs or alien abduction IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one calling Etiole an alien. I don't believe in aliens and besides that, Etiole is a local homeless man. The one running around yapping hysterics and calling Etiole an alien IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about Voodoo dolls and Voodoo curses. Voodoo has nothing to do with Voodoo dolls and curses. Voodoo dolls and curses are mumbo-jumbo made up by Hollywood movies and have nothing to do with the Voodoo religion at all. Voodoo is a branch of the Catholic Church. Look it up. Voodoo is a Christian religion. A Voodoo Priest is a type of Catholic Monk. A Voodoo Priestess is a type of Catholic Nun. Voodoo does not cast curses or use voodoo dolls. The one running around yapping hysterics about Voodoo dolls and Voodoo curses IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

Open your eyes people. Me and my mother don't look that much alike. You should be able to tell the difference between me and her.

Stop showing up in my yard to to attack me because of some fucking shit you argued with my mother about.

If you've got a problem with my mother, take it up with her not me.

Her, Barbara, Bruce, Claire, and Kendra - those are the FBI’s #1 suspects in the murder of my baby, November 14, 2013.

No, I have no updates on Etiole.

He was shot, by a local lunatic.

No, he's not okay.

And I am getting sick of this fucking ass rumour of Etiole being an alien or a demon.

The fact of Etiole being an alien is a stupid urban myth started by some crazy ass locals.

The fact of Etiole being a demon is a stupid urban legend created by some religion crazed nuts.

Etiole is an old man covered with acid burns. His skin is white and face disfigured from acid burns. He's not an alien and he's not a demon. And you people who call him an alien and call him a demon, you're all fucking crazy. 

Etiole is a homeless Jewish man who has no skin because he was tortured in a Nazi concentration camp in France during WW2. He came to Maine in 1953 with a bunch of other refugees, He has post traumatic stress disorder really bad and he's terrified of people. He can't function in normal society, so hides in the forests. He's not an alien, he's not a demon, he's not a cryptid. He's a disfigured old man, now in late 90s. He barely get around. He doesn't you people harassing him like this. Why can't you people leave him alone? Why are you all so damned desperate to believe in aliens or demons that you have to harass a helpless old man? Leave him alone. Why can't you leave him alone? What is wrong with you people?

Read The Amphibious Aliens article, https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html where way back in 2007, I DEBUNKED every one of you stupid ass alien, cryptic, demon, and haunted car rumours. Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World's Most Haunted Car, goes over every event from the 1970s, that started the fucking rumour, and lists off how every alien, demon, and haunted car rumour was proven to be nothing but a hoax started by my mother's brother  Mervin Bruce Atwater. Every single one of those rumours was started by that one man, and were proven to ALL be hoaxes he perpetrated to try to get money out of Dr Larochelle, the man who hit Mervin's younger sister with a car. They tried to convince the old doctor his car had a demon living in it and they scammed the doctor out of $20,000 back in the 1970s. THAT is how and why the demon car rumour got started. I bought the car in 1975. Etiole started living in it in 1978. And that is how me and Etiole got dragged into the fucking ass rumours about a demon car.

The article Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World's Most Haunted Car DEBUNKS ALL of the alien, cryptid, demon, and haunted car rumours. Every last one of them.

The car is not haunted and Etiole is not a demon.

You people who believe my car is haunted or think that Etiole is a demon, you are all fucking retarded.

You are slandering me!

You are slandering Etiole!

You are slandering my cars!

I'm sick of it!

Grow up and go get a damned fucking brain!

I'm sick of you people harassing me and Etiole over stupid shit started by brain dead idiots.

If you are having problems with my mother, tell FBI agent Andy Drewer about it not me. Have information, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Have information about the murder of my baby, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Have information about any of the attacks on my family, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Have information about the people who shot Etiole, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

If you have information about anything, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 and give it to him, not me.

https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html





UPDATE March 8, 2022

One sign is back up. 

How many more go up, is dependent upon YOU.

From now on, every time one of you Old Orchard Beach, Pine Point, or Biddeford shitheads decides to harass me, I'm going to put up another sign.

If you want no more, then you better make dammed sure you keep your friends and family and neighbors out of my yard and out of my life. I'm not selling my land, and I'll not let you dig up those graves.

Burn in hell.

No means no.

And I'm tired of saying no.

Just like rapist, you refuse to take no for an answer.

No. I'm not selling my land and giving you the money so you can buy a house in Kennebunk.

I've said no to you every single week since August 2021. And your current threats to dig up the graves on my land and move them to your land, is why the signs are going back up.

I'm tired of you bullying me.

I'm tired of your threats.

I'm tired of your gaslighting.

I'm tired of your lies.

You keep saying "After all I've done for you!" What have you done for me? When I was 8 years old you locked me in a racoon trap and left me there for 27 years, only letting me out on Sundays so you could parade me around in the Cape Elizabeth and Saco Ward Mormon churches to pedophile priests who paid you so they could rape me. That's why you never had a job until 5 years ago, because you made plenty selling your pre-teen daughter for sex to dirty old men.

You drove a foundation nail through my hip when I was 6 years old.

From the tie I was 14 until I was 42 years old I was near mute, because you broke my jaw with a brick. I was 42 when I had surgery to rebuild my jaw, that's why I can talk today.

You never allowed me or my bothers to go to school or doctors.

YOU took a sledge hammer to my 1974 AMC Gremlin, my 1976 AMC Gremlin, my 1976 AMC Hornet, my Olds station wagon, and you took a chain saw to my 1964 Dodge 330 the worlds most haunted car, the real Christine. YOU did that.

Since 1978 you have harassed me and me boyfriend, the one you call Etiole, because YOU believe he's a demon because of his skin deformities. You and your sister and your brothers contacted MUFON and told them lies about me and Etiole both. You called him the amphibious alien and claimed he had abducted me. Your alien abduction hoax, almost got him killed in 1997 and again in 2007 when ufo crazies arrived in my yard calling him an EBE and trying to shoot him "for science". An elderly man, a French, Jewish Nazis concentration camp survivor who lives in the forest because his PTSD and fear of people is so bad. A man who is scarred with acid burns from being tortured in WW2 and is neither a demon nor an alien and who deeply traumatized by YOUR endless harassment.

It was YOUR friends who drove a backhoe over my house August 8, 2013 because YOU paid them $600 to do so. Because you thought without a house I would sell my land. But I wasn't the one living in that house. My dad lived there. All you did was put him in a Biddeford apartment. I was already living in the tent since May 9, 2006, and I had the Biddeford apartment since February 13, 2007. 

It was YOUR friends who attacked me with golf clubs at Southern Maine Community College, November 14, 2013, while I was 8 months pregnant with Etiole's baby. That they murdered, on YOUR orders, because as YOU put it "It's RoseMary's Baby" while you gibbered about some horror movie about demon babies.

That was YOUR own grandchild that YOU hired those people to kill.

April 10, 2015, YOU broke into my motorhome, put YOUR 13 cats in it, them then brought YOUR friends to attack my family.

We now know the owner of the 4-door white truck, was YOUR visiting teach, Kathy, the driver who tried to kill me, was her son, and the reason the 911 calls didn't go through during each attack, was because she was the 911 dispatcher and her son, driving her 4door white pick up truck, only attacked me she was on duty. They were YOUR friends from the Saco Ward church, YOUR church, attacking YOUR daughter on YOUR orders.

Since August 2021, you arrive at my apartment 3 times a week, to tell me I need to put curses on people at your workplace, citing that I have to, because you're my mother and I'm demon possessed and I should be putting my demons to good use by helping you kill three people you don't like at work.

I'm sick of you calling me demon possessed.

I'm sick of you demanding curses.

You have a severe mental problem and you need psychiatric help.

I'm sick of you spreading slanderous lies about me telling every one around town I cast curses and death spells, when I've never done either.

November 19, 2021, YOU friend Todd commit suicide and YOU told YOUR friends, that me and Etiole used suicide demons to drive him in front of a train.

YOUR friend Todd, who I did NOT know and had never heard of until 6 of YOUR friends showed up at Rotary Park November 21, 2021 to gun down Etiole while screaming that they were "killing the suicide demon", while we were walking my dog.

Something YOU now brag that YOU tricked YOUR friends into do, because you needed to get Etiole off my land in order to convince me to sell it and give YOU the money for a down payment on a house in Kennebunk.

Christmas Eve 2021, you arrived at MY apartment in Biddeford, STOLE my father's psychiatric medicine, medicine he needs to keep him NOT violent, because he has extremely violent schizophrenia and one hell of a criminal record that requires him to never be in the same room with a gun, let alone never have one. He was committed to a mental ward in 2007, and they ONLY let him out because he came to Biddeford to live with ME in MY apartment, and I was monitoring his meds.

After YOU stole his medicine, you took him with you daily to Kennebunk, to a mansion by Bush's house, to daily tell him, you would give him that house if he forced me to sell my land and give you the money from my land to buy that Kennebunk house.

Tell, me, what of THOSE things, is YOU doing anything FOR me?

No, means, no.

I'm done saying NO to you.

You are nothing but a land rapist.

Just like a rapist you refuse to accept No for an answer.

Every week since August 2021, I've said no to you.

No, I will not sell my land and hand you the money so you can buy a house in Kennebunk.

No, means no.

And no, I'm not happy with the fact that because I won't sell my land and give you the money, you are now threatening to dig up the graves on my land and move them to your land.

No, I'm not happy with you saying "You don't need the land, you don't use it, I need a house in Kennebunk, you ought to want to sell your land and give me the money!"

Yes, I do use my land.

Yes, I did see the car YOU dumped behind my motorhome. You have till the end of summer to get it off my land or the police are taking it.

What I do with my land is none of your damned business.

And for your information, my land is where I write my novels. I sit on the hill, and I write every day, all summer long. The only reason I didn't in 2021 is because I had Covid for 3 months.

No, telling me that my grandmother's evil spirit is haunting my land. also does not inspire me to want to sell it.

YOU are an evil, hate fill, mean, cruel, sadistic, child abusing, vindictive sociopath.

Get psychiatric help.

You need it.

What you are doing is wrong and you know it. You won't be so upset about what is painted on my car, if you didn't know it.

You can't hide from the truth forever. 

You can't hide your sins, your crimes, your cruelties forever.

Good things will never come to you, until you stop doing evil things to those around you.


Don't forget, my camera runs 24/7 and it's a simple matter of my uploading the video footage of you doing and saying things thing. Plus a lot of it, you said and did while I was livestreaming so people online have already seen and heard you say and do these things.

Yes, I even have video footage of the 4 bicycle brats who chased the homeless man into the train November 2021.

EVERYTHING, I have said here I have video footage of. That is WHY the FBI have been able to arrest so many people these past few months, in Biddeford.

Cutting the wires off our house November 2021 - you did on a livestream. People saw you do it WHILE you were doing it. 

All 2 of the FedEx workers you demanded death curses for - you did on a livestream.

Stealing my dad's meds - you did on a livestream.

Saying "What are we going to do about Wendy, she can't keep that land, I need a house" - you did on a livestream.

Threatening to dig up the graves on my land - you did on a livestream.

All that n-word stuff you said about the black men at your workplace - you did on a livestream.

People been seeing and hearing you live. They've already seen and heard a lot.

How do you plan to explain away all the hundreds of hours of video footage I have of you breaking into my bedroom during a live stream to threaten me, my family, my land?












To the people who asked about weird emails that you claim you got from someone claiming to be me, here are a few things to consider:

#1: I DO NOT use email and I NEVER have. if you get a letter from me it is going to be written in ink on paper, and in a stamped envelope the mail truck delivered to your mailbox at the end of your driveway. Since 1997 my aunt Barbara has been sending emails out to people CLAIMING they were from me, so in all likelihood whatever you got was actually from her. Her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater did the same thing throughout the early 2000s. And 57 of their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren have done it at well. No, I’m not special. They do this to THOUSANDS of people. They run a medical scam and pretend to be LOTS of big name famous authors, hoping you’ll click whatever link they put in the email, because the link is going to open a .exe phishing program to steal your credit card data and medical records. The FBI is currently investigating their medical fraud, email fraud, scam operation, so if you ARE getting emails claiming to be from me, PLEASE print up the email ad take it to the FBI office on Middle Street in Portland, Maine. FBI Agent Andy Drewer is in charge of not only the investigation of the 2015 murder of my family, but he is also in charge of the email impersonation fraud, and the stalker doing the email fraud.

#2: As you have stated, the topic of the emails is Etiole... do know that I have NEVER talked about Etiole, with ANYONE, online or offline. Unlike my mother, and her sister, my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, I happen to respect people’s privacy. As I have said before: Etiole is a Jewish, French, Nazi concentration camp refugee who came to Maine in 1953 with a boatload of about 300 other concentration camp survivors. He is covered with acid burns, so his skin looks ghastly white and horrifically disfigured, which is why he lives in the swamps around the Saco River. he is now in his 90s and is still as homeless as he was in the 1950s. He has severe posttraumatic stress disorder, can not speak/is mute, does not have the mental capacity to function in normal society on any level what so ever, and me and a few others have been taking care of him, giving him food and clothing and supplies and medical attention since 1978. There is nothing else you need to know. You do not need to know where he is or how to find him. If you want to see him, go to y livestream/video archive and watch the VOD where I visited him on livestream so you could see what he looked liked and how crippling his metal condition really is.

#3: I feel I shouldn’t have to say this, but apparently I do NEED to say this: Etiole is NOT an alien, nor is he a demon. The article Amphibious Aliens is free to read online. It goes over all the details of both the alien rumours and the demon rumours and debunks them all, while proving all the proof, including medical records and documentation of the people behind the rumour.

#4: The ONLY person who ever claimed I was abducted by aliens was my uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater, who was the leader of the Mane division of Heaven’s Gate for over 40 years. Heaven’s Gate if you do not know, was the UFO suicide cult who murdered 39 people with poisoned Kool-Aid in California in 1997, because Comet HaleBop flew over that night.

#5: I found out about my so-called alien abduction in 2007, when a MUFON tour group showed up in my yard asking to interview me. They carried with them more than a dozen books by various UFO/alien experts and over 100 newspaper articles, all featuring interviews with my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, interviews all from the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, all of them telling of how I was supposedly a demon possessed child, whose best friend was an alien named Etiole. It was 2007, and it was the first time I had ever heard the term “alien abduction” I didn’t even know what it was. The MUFON group - a group of 30,000 people - standing in my driveway 2007 all wanted to interview me as they pointed out NONE of the 30+ years of several hundred interviews with my aunts and uncles, not ONE of the interviews was WITH ME. This was the source of the April 2007 article titled Amphibious Aliens, where I shocked the MUFON world with the revelation that I was NOT an alien abductee, nor had I ever claimed to be one. It also infuriated me to find out that my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater had been running around telling people about Etiole, as I had never told ANYONE - NOT EVEN THEM - about Etiole. It turns out my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater go their alien and demon stories about Etiole from my mother and THIS is WHY I disowned my mother, shun her, and have had nothing to do with her, or her sister my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, since 2007. The slanderous alien and demon, gossip, rumours, and lies my mother and her sister my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater spread about me and Etiole are deplorable and I HATE my mother and her sister my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, and I hope they burn in hell for the alien and demon shit they pulled on me and my homeless boyfriend.

#6: That same Amphibious Aliens article ALSO debunks the stupid ass haunted car rumours. My 1964 Dodge 330 is NOT haunted and we fucking proved that. And AGAIN, the haunted car rumour, is sourced to my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater. That car ran over my aunt Barbara when she was 2 years old. At the time, the car belonged to Dr. Larochelle of Ocean Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine. My than 2-year-old aunt Barbara almost died and her older brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, came up with a haunted car/demon possession hoax to scam that elderly doctor out of $20,000, which my grandmother Eva Viola Atwater spent on a 3 year trip to Hawaii in 1973. The Atwaters scammed and terrorized the doctor so badly, that he sold the car to me in 1975 for $5 because he was convinced it was attacking people. The car became famous in 1983 when my then neighbour Stephen King used the demon possession story of my car as the basis for his book Christine. He named the car Christine because Christine is my real name and I owned the actual car. Stephen King returned 10 years later in 1994 to film the Thinner movie in my yard, because I’m the real world “Gypsy Witch” (priestess) that he based his fictional Gypsy Witch in Thinner off of. The movies Christine and Thinner are what in turn made ME famous, and started locals accusing me of being a witch with a demon car.

And as for the fucking Thinner movie - those bastards were trespassers. They just showed up unannounced, barged in, set up filming, without permits or licenses or contracts or permission or even telling us ahead of time that they were coming. No one in Stephen King’s crew acted legally, we are not in that movie willingly, they were not on our farm legally, no one ever received a penny for any of it, and to make things worse, Steven King had no right or permission to go o late night television and tell people my home address and tel his fucking fans to “go visit the Thinner Gypsies of Saco Maine”. They had no right to be on my farm, they had no right to be filming my family. They just dropped in one day. We had no clue who they were or why they were there and it took us fucking 5 hours to chase those trespassing bastards and their film crew off our farm.

In short: I don’t use email, so you NEVER got an email from me. I’m not a witch. My car isn’t haunted. Etiole is not a demon. Etiole is also not an alien. And I was never abducted by aliens.

Also, I don’t know what you are talking about with the house stuff. I’m NOT trying to build a house, I’ve NEVER tried to build a house, I have never applied for a house permit, I’ve never been denied for a house permit because I’ve never even tried to get one. You clearly have me mixed up with someone else.

I’m at 146 Portland Ave. I have 2 neighbours who are building a house: 144 Portland Ave next door to me and 139 Portland Ave across the street from me. I think you mean one of them. My neighbour at 144, has been trying to build a house for 17 years and the town hall has been giving them the runaround. I think SHE at 144 Portland Ave is the one you mean, not me at 146. You seem to have us mixed up somehow.

SHE at 144 is the one putting in a septic system, not me at 146. I’m the one with the pink motorhome and the 35-year-old black Volvo. she’s the one with the brand new big black car and the log cabin house.

You have seriously mixed the two of us up big time.

Understandable considering it was HER family at 144 fighting with the Cyr Clan over a septic tank in 2014, and the Cyr Clan hired a hitman who accidentally murdered MY children, ten of them and nailed their heads to my motorhome door, at 146 than the white-haired man with the green pick-up truck has spent the last 7 years TELLING YOU via running up the street knocking on doors, tell you that it was EelKat trying to build a house, ONLY telling you that to try to cover his ass for mixing up my children at 146 when it was my neighbours children at 144 that was the ACTUAL target.

This is not speculation, the FBI have 100% positive proof that she and her children, not me and my children were the intended target because her family was having a fight with some Connecticut based heroin drug gang that calls itself the Cyr Clan over the septic tank. The hit men the Cyr Clan hire got the wrong house when they murdered my family. And now the Cyr Clan’s trying to convince you that I was the one building a house. I have no interest in a house. Why would I? I’m a Gypsy, I’ve never lived in a house. I’ve always lived in cars and tents my whole life. I have no interest in a house on any level whatsoever. I don’t NEED one, I never have. And you local people should know that. When my health is bad, I rent apartments in Biddeford. I’ve done this for 50 years now. You know that. You ALL know that. I’ve owned 146 Portland Ave since 1975. You people know me. Why are you pretending you don’t?

I’m the feral child who lived in a cage in a woodshed from the time I was 8 until I was 31. Did you all forget that? Etiole was the local homeless man who used to break into the woodshed and break the lock off the cage and take me out into the swamp to hide me from my bastard uncles. Did you forget that too? The ONLY reason any of you spread your fucking rumours and lies about me and Etiole, calling me a witch and Etiole a demon or alien, and spreading lies about me building houses, is because my Uncle Bruce and his Heaven’s Gate friends, told you those lies.

Did you forget what Heaven’s Gate is, what they fucking did? They are an UFO Alien Cult, who murdered 39 people with poisoned koolaid, because they comet Hale Bop was God’s fucking mother ship. They see fucking aliens EVERYWHERE. In everything. And THEY are the ones who started the stupid ass rumour of Etiole being an alien.

Look at the SOURCE of the alien abduction rumour. My Uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater. One of George Applewhite’s thugs. George Applewhite, a follower of Jim Jones, that’s WHY they killed everyone with kool-aid, because they were fans of Jim Jones, and they wanted to jump onboard God’s mothership like Jonestown did! Did you forget that? THAT fucking lunatic, a fan of Jim Jones, who worked for George Applewhite, called Etiole an alien, because Bruce CALLED EVERYONE aliens.

Bruce locked me in a cage, and Etiole broke me out of it and hide me in the swamps, and THAT is what Bruce called an alien abduction. But Etiole is no alien. He’s just a local homeless man. Etiole’s not even his name. I don’t tell anyone his name to protect him from you fucking jackasses who are too stupid to believe he’s just a normal man. My uncle Buce is a fucking lunatic who spends 24 hours a day gibbering madness and nonsense about aliens and demons.

As for the garbage that keeps being dumped on my land… you have all SEEN the big green dump truck with the black and silver striped nose, that illegally trespasses on my land and dumps that fucking garbage.

Open your eyes and look around. You can SEE the truth. The house being built is at 144 Portland Ave NOT 146. You can SEE that, now that the house is up.

Like I’ve been saying right along, it is NOT me building a house. It NEVER has been. I don’t know why you let that idiot try to gaslight you with lies about me building a house, when you can SEE the house is NOT going up on MY land. It’s going up on my NEIGHBOUR’S land.

I know you people are NOT THAT stupid. The white-haired man with the green pickup truck is LYING to you, and you can SEE that for yourselves, just by looking at WHICH property the house is being built on.

Look around... does it LOOK like there is a house being built at 146 Portland Ave where the pink motorhome is? Use your brain and open your eyes. See the truth. The truth will set you free.

Now look next door to 144, you CAN SEE that THEY NOT ME are the one building a house, now that it’s almost finished.

I’d say the white-haired man in the green pickup truck has a lot of explaining to do, like explaining WHY h’s hell bent on trying to convince the town I’m the one putting up a house, when I’ve never even applied for a building permit. Building permits are public record. Go look at the town hall for yourself.

Also, please explain to me HOW the white-haired man with the green pick truck has such very detailed info about the murder of my family, when the records are sealed, not public access, and about 90% of the details were withheld from the public and are know ONLY to myself, the murderer, the police, and FBI? There is ZERO public access to the stuff h is saying happened on April 10, 2015... you know that, right? So HOW did he get the info he has? Explain THAT.

please report any future such emails you receive to FBI agent Andy Drewer 207-774-9322

>>>I’m just more cowardly than they are and I’m afraid of the truth and criticism. In your opinion, what makes someone mean?

When I think of mean, I think of my uncles. 3 in particular. My mother had 12 older brothers and 3 of them all claimed to be “king” (we are Gypsies, Gypsy Kings are a thing). And they fought over it badly. They ended up jointly ruling over the clan, each competing with each other to out-king the other, each doing progressively meaner things to the clan members, especially the female children.

Things they did, just to me, included:

When I was 4 Uncle Bruce stabbed me with a foundation nail - an iron rod over 2 feet long - he drove into my hip, through my pelvis and out my other thigh. I have been crippled and walked with a cane since I was a toddler, because of it. His reason? I was unable to memorize the entirety of chapter 1 of the book of Genesis.

When I was 8 years old, same uncle locked me in a cage that was made for trapping raccoons. He gave me 1 salted herring fish to eat once every 12 days. He let me out only on Sundays to go to church. I lived in that cage for 27 years, until the Heaven’s Gate FBI raid shut down Heaven’s Gate in 1997, after they killed 39 people with Kool-aid. Yes, I am THAT EelKat, the child who lived in a cage, the feral child you see pictures of in almost every college Psychology book. I am the child who survived Heaven’s Gate because I was locked in a cage in a woodshed when they drank their kool aid under the shadow of comet HaleBop. I was 31 years old when the FBI raid rescued me from that cage.

When I was 14 years old, because I was unable to recite from memory the entire book, all chapters of Ecclesiastes, that same uncle beat me in the face with a cinder block brick, breaking my jaw, and cause me to be “mute” until had surgery to fix my jaw when I was 42 years old. From the time I was 14 until 42, I was unable to speak due to the damage of my jaw.

In those 27 years from age 8 to age 31, I was let out of the cage every Sunday to be taken to church and sold or $12k to the priests, who raped me repeatedly, weekly, for 27 years.

While my uncle helped Applewhite to run Heaven’s Gate, he fled the night of Hale Bop. He did not kill himself with everyone else.

Social workers took me after the FBI raid. It took them years to teach me how to not be terrified by the sight of Humans. They say I suffer from having no outward sign of emotions, and that it was caused by my never having experienced a single good event in my early life.

At the time of the FBI raid at 144, 146, and 148 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, I was one of more than 120 girls the FBI rescued out of cages. All of whom had been raped hundreds of times by priests from Cape Elizabeth, Saco, and Sanford wards of the LDS/Mormon church. Including 16 bishops, an OOB town manager, and several OOB motel owners, all of whom were in the habit of paying $12k to rape girls under the age of 10 years old.

The man with the green truck, who likes to spread rumours about me and Etiole and my house, was one of Bruce’s top customers. He had a thing for numbers and raped 7-year-olds, 14-year-olds, and 21-year-olds because he was obsessed with doing everything in 7s.

After years of social workers teaching me how to live with normal, not abusive Humans. I was 37 when I got my GED and while I was at the high school doing that, those uncles built a grease fryer bomb burned my house down to punish me for getting a GED.

2 years later, while I was in college taking classes to learn grammar and writing, three of them, that same uncle and 2 women I had never seen before, arrived at the college armed with golf clubs and attacked me when I was coming out of the college. I was 8 months pregnant at the time. They killed my baby, broke my spine, broke my hip, broke my pelvis, broke my knees. I was paralyzed for 5 months. It took me 18 months to get out of the wheelchair and relearn to walk, and to this day I am still crippled.

That’s the price I paid to learn how to read and write, in a culture that believes it is okay to execute women who commit the sin of learning how to write.

August 8, 2013, that same uncle paid a local construction worker $600 to drive a backhoe over my house.

April 10, 2015, that same uncle and a group of 74 members of the new reorganized Heaven’s Gate, attacked my farm. 14 men held me down with guns to my head, while the others used hand band saws to kill and behead 10 of my 12 children and then nailed their heads to my door.

And it’s very easy to Google the news reports and photos of all of it.

That is what I think of when I hear the word “mean”. My uncle Bruce was a very mean person.

My uncle Bruce Mervin Atwater is a monster. And he calls EVERYONE an alien abductee or a demon. Did you fucking forget that?

No, I have no updates on Etiole.

He was shot by a local lunatic.

No, he’s not okay.

And I am getting sick of this fucking ass rumour of Etiole being an alien or a demon.

The fact of Etiole being an alien is a stupid urban myth started by some crazy ass locals.

The fact of Etiole being a demon is a stupid urban legend created by some religion crazed nuts.

Etiole is an old man covered with acid burns. His skin is white and face disfigured from acid burns. He’s not an alien, and he’s not a demon. And you people who call him an alien and call him a demon, you’re all fucking crazy.

Etiole is a homeless Jewish man who has no skin because they tortured him in a Nazi concentration camp in France during WW2. He came to Maine in 1953 with a bunch of other refugees. He has posttraumatic stress disorder really bad and he’s terrified of people. He can’t function in normal society, so hides in the forests. He’s not an alien, he’s not a demon, he’s not a cryptid. He’s a disfigured old man, now in late 90s. He barely get around. He doesn’t you people harassing him like this. Why can’t you people leave him alone? Why are you all so damned desperate to believe in aliens or demons that you have to harass a helpless old man? Leave him alone. Why can’t you leave him alone? What is wrong with you people?

Read The Amphibious Aliens article, where back in 2007, I DEBUNKED every one of you stupid ass alien, cryptic, demon, and haunted car rumours. Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World’s Most Haunted Car, goes over every even from the 1970s, that started the fucking rumour, and lists off how every alien, demon, and haunted car rumour was proven to be nothing but a hoax started by Mervin Bruce Atwater. Every single one of those rumours was started by that one man, and were proven to ALL be hoaxes he perpetrated to try to get money out of Dr Larochelle, the man who hit Mervin’s younger sister with a car. They tried to convince the old doctor his car had a demon living in it and they scammed the doctor out of $20,000 back in the 1970s. THAT is how and why the demon car rumour got started. I bought the car in 1975. Etiole started living in it in 1978. And that is how me and Etiole got dragged into the fucking ass rumours about a demon car.

The article Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World’s Most Haunted Car DEBUNKS ALL of the alien, cryptid, demon, and haunted car rumours. Every last one of them.

The car is not haunted and Etiole is not a demon.

You people who believe my car is haunted or think that Etiole is a demon, you are all fucking retarded.

You are slandering me!

You are slandering Etiole!

You are slandering my cars!

I’m sick of it!

Grow up and go get a damned fucking brain!

I’m sick of you people harassing me and Etiole over stupid shit started by brain dead idiots.

And the same goes for the so-called World’s Most Haunted Car. That rumour was started by the same person. That car was proved years ago, to have a mechanical issue that caused it to start and drive ahead until it hit something. No one ever thought to look at the starter. I’m the 3rd owner of the car. I changed the malfunctioning starter and a so called ‘haunted” stuff the car did, went away. It was a problem with the starter, only that and nothing more.

And these people in Biddeford right now, getting you all worked up - if you hadn’t noticed they ARE Mervin Bruce Atwater’s family.

So it’s STILL the same one fucking person running around getting things stirred up. The Atwaters. My fucking uncles. Like usual.

Yesterday at Rotary Park, Biddeford, Maine, a group of people armed with rifles, went down the track team trail behind the soccer field and started shooting... scared the crap out of the 50 or so children and their 100+ parents, got the 30+ dogs in the dog park howling... the sky filled with thousands of Canadian geese, and the park goers assumed the group was hunting geese and started commenting on the fact that hunting was not allowed in Rotary Park.

A few minutes later, a grey/white haired, bearded man, who looks a lot like Kenny Rogers, but not as fat, with a black dog of a German Shepard-Lab mix look, and a woman with pageboy greyish-blond hair, both about late 60s, marched up to me in the park, bragged they had killed Etiole, stating that he has caused their son whom they called “Todd” to jump in front of a train 3 days earlier.

You know what, I knew that homeless man and HE never mentioned it.

You people are just looking for someone to blame, and think because I’m not white, I wear a hijab, and I have a mural painting on my car, you think you are justified on pointing blame at me for something I had no part in.

That homeless man was obsessed with the fact that his dog and son had been taken away from him.

It’s NOT the evil eye as they called it. It’s The eye of The Grigori Archangels aka The Watchers, from the Apocrypha in the Bible. It’s the blue wings of the Seraphim Archangels aka The Watchers. The Watchers are my Guardian angels. I paint them on everything, I sew it on tapestries, it’s on my car, my motorhome, I embroider it on pillows and clothes, paint it on mirrors, paint canvases art for art galleries with it. It’s the blue eyes wings of the archangels as described in the Bible. I’m not sure why they were calling it the Evil Eye.

It’s the Eye of God, the hamsa. A Jewish protection symbol. Etiole’s Jewish, he draws it on everything, so that’s why I do as well.

I’m sick of you jackasses spreading you wild ass rumours about me.

You’re nothing but a bunch of trouble making busy bodies who can’t mind your own fucking business.

I’m not bothering a single damned one of you, so why the fuck are you bothering me?

Why can’t you stupid ass people leave me alone?

There is no reason for a damned one of you to be in my yard.

There is no reason for a damned one of you to be chasing down Etiole.

There is no reason for a damned one of you to be having psychotic meltdowns over my car!

What is wrong with you people?

Fucking brain dead herd mentality that’s all this is.

One of you ran around screaming like a lunatic and rest of you all decided to join in.

But I also ask... WHY would you be scared of me or Etiole? It makes me ask who has been feeding you lies about me? Who has been feeding you lies about Etiole?

I am a crippled elderly woman. I can barely stand up. I’ve been paralyzed and bedridden since the golf club attack November 14, 2013. I’m only just now in 2021 just starting to walk again, and I can barely do that. I have no grip strength so I struggle to even hold me cane. The golf clubs damaged my spine, my nerves, most of my organs don’t function because of the nerve damage to my spine. I struggle to even breath, just sitting up in bed is enough to collapse my lungs. I have no bladder or bowel movement control, I have to wear diapers. What exactly is it you think I can even do?

And Etiole? The old hermit Nazi concentration camp survivor? He’s over 100 years old now, he hasn’t been able to walk, or sit up, or eat on his own, in almost 20 years. He’s dying. What exactly are you expecting him to do?

Etiole is NOT an alien.

Etiole is not a demon.

I am not a witch.

None of my cars are haunted.

I’ve been saying it for years. Why won’t you listen to me?

You are slandering me!

You are slandering Etiole!

You are slandering my cars!

I’m sick of it!

Grow up and go get a damned fucking brain!

I’m sick of you calling Etiole a demon.

I’m sick of you calling Etiole an alien.

I’m sick of you calling me a witch.

I’m sick of you saying one car after another is haunted.

This whole thing boils down to your fucking white privilege. You know that right?

Your white ass can’t stand the fact that we non-white Gypsies live here, so you have to make up stupid ass supernatural spooky shit about us.

You don’t like that I wear the traditional dress of my people instead of dressing like an American, so you feel justified in calling me a witch and making up spook occult lies about me.

I wear hijab and veils and caftan and silk and it bother’s you that I’m not scum diving in trashy t shirts and jeans like the rest of you.

I paint my cars, same as we painted our wagons and vardos for centuries, and it bothers you because it looks different.

Etiole is a Jew, and your anti-Semite white privilege kicks in to hate him for being born Jewish.

Etiole has scars, so you’re scared of him

I’m different.

Etiole’s different.

My cars are different.

And when you get right down to it, that’s ALL any of this is about.

Me, Etiole, and my cars don’t fit in with your fucking ass white privileged ideas of “normal” and that makes you uncomfortable and you try to make the uncomfortable go away by dehumanizing us with your stupid ass rumours.

There are no witches.

There are no aliens.

There are no demons.

There are just a bunch of whinny ass white privileged brats running around making trouble for anyone who’s not white enough for them.

Grow the fuck up!



Increasingly Annoyed By The Lewd, Rude, Vulgar Men In Biddeford, Maine 

Today's Date is: May 11, 2015

Today is: Monday


/




Today, this morning, while I'm walking from my car in the parking lot to my dad's house in Biddeford, a guy on the first floor walking with his dog and girlfriend, she stops for a second to talk to me then goes outside with the dog, soon as she is gone he hand me a candy then grabs me, tosses me back against the wall, hugs me, and starting kissing me, then says "I love ya Sweetheart, I'll leave her for you anytime you say so, never forget that!" I run away from him. 

Who gave him permission to touch me!

NO ONE!

I HATE BEING TOUCHED!

AND I ESPECIALLY HATE BEING TOUCHED BY STRANGERS!

There is only one man on this planet who allowed to touch me, and no one else, and I can't stand these jackass American men who get it through their heads, that I have absolutely no interest in ANY of them!

Why won't American men LEAVE ME ALONE!

It is so annoying and frustrating. 

Why don't any of these men know the meaning of word: NO!

American men think they are god's gift to women. Well, I got news for them, they sure as hell ain't god's gift to this woman! Maybe American women like trashy, lusty, bragging, boastful men like that, but we Gypsy women sure don't. We spit on every one of them.

Well, it got worse tonight, when I got to my dad's house again.

I park at St Andre's parking lot and get out of my car and he's out there with his dog. He yells "Hey Sweetheart". I wave to say hello, you know, good manners and all, and keep on walking. I get inside and the woman of the second floor is also getting back. we stop and talk as we often do. We are talking for maybe 20 minutes, and the guy comes in with his dog. The dog (a 60lb pit bull) is not on a leash and bounds up the stairs to start jumping on me. She's not a mean dog, but she's big and heavy and can do a lot of damage if she knocks me over, especially when I'm standing on the next to the top flight of three flights of stairs - that's a LONG way down: more then 30 feet, and the dog is jumping on me and he won't call it off, instead he's just laughing ad saying "She won't hurt you." The pit bull starts jumping at my dog (a 10lb chihuahua) I grab my and put her over my shoulder. The pit bull starts jumping at the other woman's dog (a pomeranian).

She gets her dog in her apartment and starts yelling at the man to call off his dog. He just laughs and says she's playing. 

I am crippled and walk with a cane. I have Chronic Tendonitis and even a small trip can cause serious damage. Last time I fell I was bedridden for 5 months. well, sure the dog is friendly and just playing, yeah, I can see that. I'm not worried about the dog attack me or biting me, I'm worried about the dog, knocking me over and pushing me down 3 flights of stairs to the bottom of a stairwell 30 feet below me! A fall like that would kill me and this guy doesn't give a fuck and he is refusing to call off his dog. 

The problem is made worse by the fact, that while I can't get pass the dog, he has com up the stars and and is blocking the way so I can move away from the dog, without running into his open arms, while he's standing there grinning at me and saying "give me some huggies Sweetheart, I loves ya, ya need some loving."

The woman on the second floor starts yelling at him, say "You smell like marijuana," and he yells back and says "I smoke my pot all day! I can smoke what I want, where I want and you can't stop me!"

His dog runs back down the stairs and I put my dog down and she runs up to the third floor terrified. I'm still cornered between the man and a shoe rack and the stair wall newel posts. I pull out chalk and draw a protection symbol on the ground and he starts saying "You has Autistic and need some huggies" and lunges at me to grab me.

I push past him, but still can't get around him to get away and he starts gibbering jumbled nonsense about Autism and Gypsies. (I have Autism and by race am a Gypsy).

The second floor woman starts yelling "You are drunk", and he throws a beer can at her and say: "I've been drinking all day and I'm gonna drink all night and you can't stop me none."

He grabs for me again and I pull away saying "I am the queen of my people the Gypsies and no one is allowed to touch me."

He gibbers more slurred words, and then says "This is my house and I can smoke and drink and fuck whenever I want."

He's stumbling around and I'm able to get past him as he grabs for me again. I yell "My culture does not allow smoking, drinking, swearing, or adultery." And Run to my dad's door, toss my dog inside, then swing back around and run back down stairs, jump back in my car and drive to the police station (2 blocks away) where I tell the officer on duty what happened and he fills out a report and follows me back to my dad's house to make sure I can get in this time, then issues a protection from harassment summons and charges the man with minor assault. 

This is the THIRD man this week to do something like this.

What the hell is wrong with the men in Biddeford this week? Have they all gone batty?

Three now this week.


I HATE MEN TOUCHING ME!!!!!!!!


Interestingly, they have informed me that this guy has raped 27 women in the past and is out of prison on a technically and they've been unable to find any victim willing to testify against him in court so their hands are tied and they were overjoyed that I agreed to testify against him. They inform me that I am lucky that he didn't do worse then he did.

This is not the first time this man has come after me. He's done it several times over the past year now. 

AND HE WON'T STOP TOUCHING ME!

Every day, I try to get up the stairs to my dad's apartment and there he his, comes out his door to grab me as I go upstairs. I am so sick of dirty old men!

You remember a couple of months ago, in February, I mentioned the guy who was yelling about my hair and touching me then? This is the same guy.

Don't remember it? Let me tell you about it then...


Americans are very rude. They stand way too close to you when they talk. They talk about nonsense. They gossip too much. They are nosey busy-bodies always getting in other people's business. Gypsies keep a distance of 3 to 5 feet between them and non-Gypsies at all times. A Gypsy will never get close enough to a non-Gypsy to to reach out and touch them. They stay always an arm length plus a foot or two.Americans get right up in your face. They rudely put only inches between you and them. White Americans like to touch you too. Always with their hands on your hands, you arm, your shoulder, you hair, your face. They have no sense of personal space at all. They never keep their distance and they won't stop touching.

American men are especially sick perverted bastards when it comes to absolutely no respect for personal space. For example. In middle of February, I was visiting my dad in Biddeford.  He lives on the third floor. I'm going up the stairs when the guy from the 1st floor suddenly gets between me and the stairs and stairs running his dirty hands through my hair and saying how he wants to comb my hair and put cream in it. The sick fuck ass piece of shit. And the stench of him! Good god! He smelt like a tobacco factory and and that horrid cat-piss smell of beer. 

I say: "Please don't touch my hair" 

And suddenly he flips out and starts screaming at the top of his lungs: "I'm not flirting with you, I just want to be a friend and comb your hair. I'm not looking for sex. Your hair ain't natural. I'm a prophet of god and I've been to the white room three times now even though I'm a warlock. I saw Jesus in the white room. He talks to me you know. I heal people just like Jesus. I wasn't flirting with you. Your hair ain't the way God made it, I know because I'm a prophet. God don't want your hair like that. He told me to comb your hair. I'm not flirting with you. I don't want sex."...then he starts rambling on about how God made me with smooth straight hair and god told him to fix my hair and make it smooth and straight, in between more rambling about how he's not flirting and doesn't want sex.

Good god! Who said anything about flirting and sex? I only asked him to not touch my hair. So why was he bringing up flirting and sex? Why? Because he's a sick minded fuck assed piece of shit. HE was thinking abouting flirting and sex otherwise he would not have said it. 

And what the hell is a white room? What the heck kind of freaked out American slang is that? And a Warlock? Seriously? Does he even know what a warlock is? Obviously he's one of those idiots who thinks it's another word for witch. No actually, it's a Scottish word and mean "evil oath break" or "the sinning teller of lies". And prophet? What? He really expects me to believe that? He was so drunk he could barely stand up. God had a hell of a lot to say about wine-bibbers in the Bible and none of it was good. 

And my hair? Dreadlocks. I've had them for about 3 months. Not intentionally - it was a side effect of being bedridden from ill health October, November, and December of 2014. My hair is really frizzy like a black person's hair is, so if I go a few days without brushing it, it dreads up on it's own. What is "unnatural" about dreadlocks? My hair naturally dreads, I don't have to do a damned thing to it to get it that way. I've had dreadlocks several times throughout my life, since childhood, because that's the way my hair naturally grows. Styling your hair into fake man made styles is unnatural. My hair is so freaking frizzy, that if I want to have straight hair I have to sit down and brush it for 3 straight out and then load it down with straighteners and use flat irons to burn it straight. My hair is NOT naturally smooth or straight on any level whatsoever. God did not give me straight hair. So where does this creep get off yammering at me like that?

What is it about me, that causes American men to chase after me? Or maybe I should ask, what is it about American women, that turns their men off so much, that they won't leave me alone instead going after their own women, like they belong?

I have had to deal with so many men who act like this around me, that it ain’t funny. And it’s not once in a while either. It’s EVERY DAY! Every time I leave the farm and go out in public I run into at least one man who goes all ga-ga and starts chasing after me and coming up with one reason after another why I’m perfect for him, because he’s never seen a woman like me before, I got a great body, I know how to dress nice, I act like a proper lady, blah, blah, blah. And oh, I’m “soooooo exotic looking”. and each one of them acts like they are the only man who ever thought to say that to me.

I'm sick of hearing it! Do you have any idea what it is like to have every man i meet falling all over himself and acting like I'm his personal sex toy?

EVERY DAY!

EVERYWHERE I GO!

EVERY SINGLE MAN I MEET!

What is wrong with you sick, fuck head Americans? Why can't you leave me alone!

I ought to be able to go to the store without some strange man grabbing me and demanding a hug! 

I ought to be able to walk out of my yard without some damned filth faced lust head jumping on me!

I can't help what I look like. I'm always hearing girls, say they wish they were pretty. Women are always saying they wished they looked like me. Well I got news for you, Honey, you REALLY don't want to look like me. The men won't leave you alone. Men have been chasing after me since I was 12 years old.

Believe me, if are a girl who isn't pretty you are lucky, because men will make your life hell if you are pretty. I know! They make my life hell every damned day. I can't even walk into WalMart without some damn man, grabbing me and saying he wants to take me home.

Do you know how sick and tired I get of men telling me I look exotic? They act like they are the only one who thought of it, like no one has ever said it to me before. And yet EVERY American man says it to me. I hear it every day and I’m so tired of it. Do I really look THAT different from your American woman?


And like I said, he's the third damned man to grab me this week. I can't go outside without men coming after me. Do have any idea what that's like.

I have no freedom.

I can't go to the store.

I can't go any where.

What is wrong with American men? Why won't they leave me alone?

Do all men in the country act like this or is it just men in Maine that act like wild men who've never seen a woman before?

You want to hear about the other two men? Let's talk about them, because one of them is a dozy, he's almost as bad as Joel Bailey. You remember Joel Bailey don't you? The man who stalked me for a decade? Ran around telling everybody I was his "best friend" and saying how we were always going out on dates...and saying those things for 3 damned years, before I even knew he existed? Before I ever even meet him? Oh yeah, this guy Joel Bailey all over again.


But let's talk about the first man to come after me this week, first.

I was at the town hall, where I seem to practically live the past few weeks, given that the town hall is holding my cats hostage to blackmail me out of paying my taxes so they can take my land, and now that I've paid my taxes are demanding a ransom in exchange for my cats' lives.

I am at the town hall, I'm getting out of my car, and suddenly and old man in his 50s or 60s, drives up and blocks me in. 

The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall parking lot, is long and skinny and has a single row of parking spaces that are against a tall cement wall. The man parks his car crosswise (illegally) across the front of both my car and the car beside mine, so that I'm not trapped in a narrow 2 foot wide space, between my car, the other car, the cement wall, and his car. The only way I can get out of this spot, is if I open the door of my car, climb through the car, and get out on the other side.

Did you notice how every man who comes after me, ALWAYS blocks me into a corner in one way or another, before they start talking to me?

So, three days ago, I'm at the town hall and I'm getting out of my car, and a guy drives into the parking lot and drives up across me so I can't move, rolls the window down and starts talking to me, here's what he said:

"Damn, you must be rich."

Uhm, no.

"You look rich."

Uhm, okay. I guess.

"You sure you aren't rolling in it?"

No, actually, I'm homeless, I live under a tarp.

He bursts out laughing, obviously does not believe me and thinks I'm making a joke, not realizing that I have Autism and am incapable of making a joke or saying anything other then the straight up facts. 

He stops laughing: "So are you married?"

I have someone.

"Want to leave him? I'm looking for a cougar. I need the cash."

Nope. I already told you, I'm homeless, I live under a tarp, I don't have any money.

He laughs again and says: "Well, I saw you from the street, and had to come in and ask you. Don't often see wealthy folk like you around."

He then rambles on, about his life and his dog and basically is giving me a sales pitch about how great he is and all the reasons why I should want to marry him.

Can anyone say: desperate?

What is it with these men who just walk up to me at random and then start telling me I'm supposed to marry them? I wouldn't think it was so strange if it was just one man, I'd think he was just a nut...but it happens every time I go out in public. Dozens of men, every year, complete total strangers, whom I've never seen before, and never see again, just randomly walk up to me, grab, start hugging me, and telling me I'm supposed to marry them.

Why can't they keep their hands to themselves?

I HATE BEING TOUCHED!

WHY WON'T MEN STOP TOUCHING ME!

He drives back out of the parking lot.

I'm standing there watching him leave and wondering what in the heck just happened. Who is that guy and how in the hell did he think I was what he termed "wealthy folk"?

The Rhinestone Robe

I was wearing my rhinestone robes, with my gold embroidered kimono over it. It is a Muslim wedding dress, I bought from a woman in Eygpt, who designs dresses for Muslim woman. It is white silk and every inch of it is covered in pink rhinestones. This is my priestess robes, that I wear for official business and ritual work (I was putting a curse on the town, because they took my cats, thus why I was off the farm while wearing it, you normally wouldn't see me wearing this off of the property - if you see me wearing this in public you know I'm doing some sort of spell casting ritual thing, because it's the only time I wear it.) 

Here...here are pictures of the outfit in question: The rhinestoned robe and the embroidered kimono I wear open and belted over it

The outfit is VERY regal, and shimmers like a disco ball. It is unusual, and outlandish, and does make me look like the bride of some Middle Eastern Oil Mogul. (Several American men has said this what it makes me look like and have said that it is what they thought I was, when they saw me.) And i assume, that that is why this man assumed I was "wealthy folk".

The Embroidered Kimono

But it just baffles me, how so many American men are just driven by what they see. It's all lust and greed, every time an American man talks to me. They are always either lusting after what they call my "exotic looks" or yammering on about how wealthy they think I must be based off the clothes I wear. They simply can not look past my clothes or my body to see me for who I am, and it is so annoying and frustrating, especially when you start adding the fact that American men, seem to think they can have their way about everything and get really pissed off and bitchy if you say no to them. 

Is that all men care about? what a girl looks like?

One guy walked up to me, total stranger, never seen him before or since, and he says to me: "You sure would make a nice green bottle on my arm! Dam you're fine." I don't even know what that means. I've Googled the term "green bottle on arm" and Google doesn't know what it means either.

Do you have any idea how RUDE and RACIST it is for a total stranger to walk up to a woman and tell her she looks exotic and therefore must marry you?

Are there any men on this planet with any manners at all? What is it with these men? Why are they acting like they've been trapped on a deserted island for decades and act like I'm the only woman they've ever seen before? Animals don't even run around trying to fuck each other as much as these men keep coming after me. I am so sick and tired of sick men grabbing me all the time. I don't like it. Why can't they keep their hands to themselves?


Let's get back to the guy who reminds me of Joel Bailey. He's a dozy.

The second guy to grab me this week, you've heard me talk about him before. He's WalMart guy. You remember WalMart guy don't you? No? Let me refresh your memory.

You often hear me talk about an event which went something like this:


1AM. Black Friday, we are in line to buy a Kindle.

"You're EelKat right? I saw your car outside, I knew you was in here somewhere, so I came in to find you. First off let me just tell you how much I love your work, I read ____ and it was amazing. Truely amazing. Well, I knew I'd run into you someday, so I keep a copy of my book in my car..."

...pulls out great big, fat, manuscript and continues yapping...

"I follow you on FaceBook so I know you don't own an ereader and you'll only read print editions of books, so I had it printed up just for you..."

How thoughtful. And how ironic, considering the reason we was at walMart was to buy an ereader.

"...and I was wondering if you could read it and tell me what you think? Is it any good? Maybe you could edit it for me and give me some pointers, hey, we could get together and discuss it over dinner...blah, blah, blah"

4AM...he then opens his 'book' and begins to read it, outloud, in the DVD section of WalMart. We continue shopping. He follows us and continues reading.

We leave WalMart, and so does he.

7AM We go to McDonald's to have breakfast after a long night of stand in line, and so does he, and he's still reading his manuscript.

Noontime...we are still trying to leave McDonald's and he's still reading to us...

I've never seen anything like this guy.

That of course it a very simplified (and less bizarre) version of what happened. I'll tell you the whole story in just a minute.

I have a lot of fans and readers. Most of them are nice, but some o them...oh boy...some of them, have got serious mental issues, and are absolutely 100% convinced that because they read one of my books, I am therefore destined to marry them, and this guy, is one of those fans.


Now, WalMart Dude and what he did, is not unusual. I'm an author. I'm not popular in the global mainstream, but locally I'm very popular. For years my books were sold at local bookstores. My books were not available on a country wide mass market level until 2010, and then only a handful of my books went that direct. And out of more then 200 books, only 24 have been made into ebook editions. So, on the whole, I'm largely unheard of, but around locally, I have a lot of fans.

The thing is most of my books are very regional. The stories take place in local towns and are set in local stores and star real local people. There is not a lot of global interest in books about small town Maine, but there is a lot of local interest in books of this nature.

Well, the result is, I'm a local celebrity and pretty everyone in a 5 town radius of me has heard of me and read at least one of my books and thinks of me as being a lot more famous then I actually am, so they come to me hoping to get me to help them publish their book.

This happens, several times a month. Print editions of my books were heavily distributed in my home region, all the stores and libraries have copies, and I attend absolutely EVERY community event, charity drive, festival, car show, etc in York and Cumberland counties, I'm at an event pretty much every weekend all year long and I'm there with stacks of books, so literally everybody in a 5 town radius knows me, my car, and my books, and they all think if they shook hands with me once than they and I are best buds, and OMG! I love my fans, but sometimes a girl just needs a break you know?

One thing that ALWAYS bothers me, is, these people say they love my work and know it/me so well...yet they toss 20lbs of 500 page manuscript for "a great epic novel" at me to read. WHY? I do not write novels. I write predominantly flash fiction. My longest works are two stories that reach 35k. More than 90% of what I write is under 10k words, and 75% of that is under 5k words. And yes, I own a library that shelves 12,000 books, but everybody who knows that also knows I've never read those books. I collect books, I don't read them. 

I have Autism and ADHD, I can't sit still long enough to read a novel. I can barely sit still long enough to read a short story. I can stay focused on a story long enough to write a novel, it's hard for me to stay focused on a story long enough to write more than 10 pages of it. And this is the sort of thing you see me talking about on FaceBook. My FB Wall is all Autism stuff, and talk about what it's like to have Autism and...everybody who actually reads what I write on FaceBook knows that one of my big issues in life is the fact that I can't sit still long enough to read a novel and it upsets me because I want to read novels, but I jump up and run around the room every few minutes and than forget I was reading and start doing something else...it's a serious problem...

...and yet here these people are ALWAYS with the same story of "I follow you on FaceBook so I know you only read print, so I printed up all 500 pages of my great epic novel for you to read..."

DUH! If you follow me on FaceBook enough to know I only read print, than why don't you also know I never read a story longer than 10 pages long? 

The problem is that I am at everything and everybody around here sees me as being both a celebrity and someone who is always out to help the little guy, so everybody assumes that sooner or later they are going to run into me and I'm just going to be falling all over myself wanting to help them. 

A bigger problem, one that has baffled me for a while now, is when I get mobbed by 20 or 30 people all at once, telling me they love me, my books, can I sign this, read that, here's 30 manuscripts all at once...okay if it happened once, I won't be so puzzled, but it happens at least once a month...and I just couldn't understand this, until, one day...

One day, one fan rushed up to me in Wal-Mart, and said "You're the girl with the car outside right?"

I'm thinking - it's Wal-Mart there are about 3,000 cars outside in the parking lot right now, but yeah, I know what she means..."Yeah, I'm the girl with the car outside."

Than she tells me, the most unheard of thing...she says she's one of my fans, and she follows me on FaceBook, and her and all my other local fans, got together and created a "text tag game" for their iphones.

I ask her, what is a text tag game, I never heard of it. She says:

"Oh, well, when one of us sees your car, we send a mass text out to everyone else in the group to let them know where you are. See? We take pictures of your car in front of all these place, look I'll show you, I have tons of pictures of your car in my phone, see here you are at SMCC, and here you are at WalMart last week, and here you are at Hannaford, and here you are at the Dollar Store and..."

I'm like...OMG! You guys follow me around like DeadHeads.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we are, we used to follow the Dead everywhere they went. Yeah, that was a big thing for us back than..."

There was one time, I came out of WalMart, and this guy runs up to me and says: "Where is it? I can't find it anywhere?"

I ask what he's talking about, and he says:

"The Razzberry. I saw you in the store, I knew it was you, no one else looks like you, I wanted to show my wife your car, she's never seen it. But I can't find it. We've been all over the parking lot and we can't find it anywhere...."

Ah, yes, no, it's here here, it broke down, it's being worked on, I got a ride with a friend today.

That is my daily driver, so you can see why my readers (at least my local ones) are able to tell where I am, and seeing how I have a lot of cats and go through 60lbs of cat food and 150lbs of cat litter every week, I'm at WalMart alot. And for the record, I'm a drag queen, not on stage, every day of my life, and while my car shimmers like a disco ball as I drive down the road, it can't hold a candle to my sequined ball gowns. Not many people are walking around WalMart in full-length minks and more sequins than Liberace` could count, so even people who don't know me as the author, of whatever book they just read, they always great with "Hey, you must be the girl with that car!" 

There was one guy, a few months ago...I didn't have my car, but he recognized me anyways, because of my cloths, and he followed me and my partner all through WalMart, every time we stopped at an aisle, he say: "What are buying here, I'll get it for you, you wait there." Than he'd rush to the shelf and get whatever and put it in my cart. In between doing so, he was reciting poetry. 

"Hey, I wrote another poem, you want to hear it?"

So we got to hear a few dozen poems, each poem followed by: "So what do you think? Any good? Do I have a chance at getting published?"

I don't know, I'm not a poet. I don't read poetry. I know nothing about poetry. I did write one book of poems, it was an assignment for my Literature class in college, I've never written poems before or since.

He stayed with us the entire day. No literaly, the entire day. We left WalMart, and he jumped in his car and drove behind us to the next store, did the same thing there. Me and my partner went to McDonald's to eat on the way home, the guy walks into McDs and sits down at our booth with us, and orders the same food we did. And I'm like, this is getting creepy. My partner finally told him to leave and he did, but that night he started call my dad on the phone, and my dad was asking me, who is this guy, he says he's known you for years and I never heard of him. He staied on the phone all night reading poetry to me. 

Yeah, I never heard of him either, until he followed us around WalMart all day reading poetry to us. 

He called my dad every hour of every day and every night, like clockwork, for a week, and also called my partner the same way. In between reading poetry to them he'd ask to talk to me...uhm...yeah...about that...what part of I have Autism does this guy not understand...you know Autism...lack of verbal speech...no vocal sounds...mute...I don't talk. I do not even own a phone because, oh, I don't know, I can't talk so there is no ficking way for me to use a phone! And he just met me in person, and spent 12 freaking hours following me and my partner all day long and he was so busy reading his poems to us, that he didn't notice it was my partner answering him, not me, I never said a word, when I wanted to say something I wrote it on a notepad and he read it off the paper...how does this guy expect me to talk to him on the phone if I couldn't talk to him in person?

That was certainly one of the more extreme attempts anyone has made to try to get me to read their manuscript.

It happens so often that I wrote up a disclaimer to give to people when they ask me to read their manuscript. Here it is: https://www.eelkat.com/ManuscriptReadingService.html 

It's mean and angry and 30,000 words of EXACTLY what I think of authors throwing manuscripts at me. It's harsh, yes, but, the people who toss manuscripts my way, seem to have a bad habit of showing up at my front door with "Did you read it yet?"

No, I tossed it in the woodstove unread.

"Ha! Ha! You're funny!"

I'm not joking. I burned it unread.

"Good one! Hey if you're not gonna read it, can I have it back, it was my only copy and I've got another author to give it to."

Nope. It's gone. I burned it.

"What do you mean you burned it?"

I mean, I have a wood stove and I used it for tinder to start a fire, just like it says I will do on my "I don't read manuscripts" policy and disclaimer on my website. If you really knew me as well as you said, you would have read that policy and known WHY I WON'T read your manuscript...because, there are actually laws against authors reading another author's manuscript and were you a professional career author, you would have known that.

"But it was my only copy!"

Than you shouldn't have given it to me.

"But it was my life's work, I spent 10 years writing that.."

I'm sorry, I have Autism, the part of your brain that tells you to care about other people's feeling...I don't have that, so guess what? I don't care that that was your only copy or that you were stupid enough to give it away or that you spent 10 years writing it. I have Autism. I am physically incapable of caring about you or your novel. You follow me on FB so you know me so well? Well than why didn't you know that? Maybe you should actually read the Autism Awareness info I put on my FaceBook Wall. I have Autism, Sugar Pie, I'm not your best friend and I have no interest in ever doing so. There are plenty of websites out there to tell you what Autism is. Google it. find out what Autism is before you start tossing your work at me.

And good god! I write 20,000 words a day, that's a full novel every 3 days. How the hell did it take you 10 years to write a single novel? If you want to be a writer, you better just sit your ass down and write, because you ain't getting no where if you are only putting out a single novel every 10 years. Damn!

What always gets me, is, how EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM...thinks they are the ONLY person to EVER have the brilliant idea of giving a manuscript to an author. When I tell them I get manuscripts tossed my way every week, they get all stunned and say:

"Really? They stole my idea! I'm the one who came up with the unquie/original idea to contact (my favorite author) to read my manuscript. How'd they think of that?" 

It amazes me, how many HUNDREDS of times in the past 36 years, I have heard people say how stunned they were that someone other than themselves had come up with the idea to send a manuscript to an author. It just flabbergasts me. 


So, like I said, when WalMart Dude first approached me with his manuscript, I wasn't overly concerned because this sort of thing, happens a few times a week. And usually I just, tell the I can't read their manuscript, I'm not an editor or a publisher, reading manuscripts is not my job, and they say okay and go back to whatever it was they were doing. WalMart Dude, was different...very, very, different...scary different, almost to the point that, I probably will go to the police if I encounter him a third time.


But you've never really heard the whole story. Well, this we I was once again hunted down by WalMart dude, for yet ANOTHER wild day of WalMart Dude style insanity. And for you to fully understand how strange and, bizarre this man is, we first have to tell you about the first time I meet him, at WalMart...

It was Black Friday 2013. My partner had decided I needed a a Kindle Paperwhite (which had just been released that week and at the time was Kindle's best thing ever...they have Fire now.) Well, he decides, to get me this for Christmas, only he doesn't really know what it is or if I can even use it, so, he decides he'd better ask me if i want something like this. Well, even though I am an author, I am a Gypsy and, technology, not on my to do list, so, while I sell books for Kindle on Amazon, I actually haven't the foggiest clue what a Kindle even is. I tell him, it'd probably be good if I had a Kindle so I could find out what it is I'm actually selling when I sell Kindle books.

Turns out to be a good investment, because once I had the Kindle I was able to download my own books and discover that several of them had some serious formatting issues, that I was unaware of. I am now able to fix formating issue before the books are even published, so the Kindle was a good thing to have.

Well, this was the day he bought me the Kindle, and never forget it, because, boy oh boy, will this day go down in history as one of the strangest damned days of my life...because this was the day I meet the man my fans and readers all now know as "WalMart Dude."

The day starts out as any typical Black Friday does: with me and my partner arriving at Best Buy at 10PM to get in line and wait for the store to open at 1AM. We were about number 300 in the line, that wrapped around the Maine Mall, and over to Sears. By the time 1AM came, the line wrapped around the mall the other way, all the way to the Food Court, and for those who don't know: the Maine Mall, from one end to the other, is 2 miles long and the building has "mile markers" painted o it, so you can determine how many more miles you have to go to get to the store you want to go to. It's one of the largest malls in the country, and was at one point the largest mall in New England (I'm not sure if it still is or not)

Anyways, this line is wrapped around the building, meaning the line is nearly 4 miles of people long.

We know that we are couple number 300 in line, because at 11PM Best Buy workers come out and start numbering people and saying, they are only allowing 100 people in the store at a time. At 1AM they will let 100 people in. At 1:30AM they will let another 100 people in. At 2PM we were the first people let in on the third round of 100 people let in.

Kindles were sold out, as was most everything else he had intended to buy. He did however get the last of the $3,000 cameras on sale for $800.

We get out of Best Buy at around 3AM, head to Hot Topics to buy stuff for my brothers. My partner is absolutely terrified of everybody in the store (he had never been in Hot Topics before, so it was his first time getting to see the Goths,  Punks, Emos, and Lolitas whom are my typical crowd of people to hang out with.)

4PM we are out of the Mall and at Staples. While there are no Kindles on the shelf, a worker sees us in that area and says they have more out back, but are only allowed to bring out so many each hour, and tells us, to wait a few minutes because the next batch is due out on the shelves in 10 minutes.

So we get the Kindle, but now he still has to find a GPS and after calling a few stores, he gets word that Biddeford WalMart still has several in stock, if we hurry, they might still be a few left when we get there. And here's where the fun begins. Now my partner, he's a still upper lip, Mormon High Priest, who is very serious and conservative, no nonsense, just straight edge all the way. He's already been freaked out of his mind by the Goth crowd at Hot Topics and he's glad to be in a place like WalMart where you don't often see the what he terms "strange people". He was completely unprepared for what was about to happen next...

ENTER WALMART DUDE:


This section of this article has been removed from this excerpt. This page is now an excerpt of a book, instead of an online article. The entire article is no longer available to be read for free online and is now a chapter of the book How We Gypsies See The Americans. To read all 10,000 words of the original full article you will have to GO HERE.


What is it about me, that causes American men to chase after me? Or maybe I should ask, what is it about American women, that turns their men off so much, that they won't leave me alone instead going after their own women, like they belong?

There is one man in particular, the man you all know as WalMart Dude, I'd like to point out, because this guy can not take a hint, and boy is he ever stubborn. This guy, has followed me online for well over a decade. Online, he's fine. Does the whole innocent seeming. "Hey, it's me! How you doing today?" sort of thing, that most of my fans and readers do. He's one of the 7,000+ fans who follow me on faceBook and Twitter and every few days send me messages of "Here's how my day went, what was your day like?" as all of my fans know, I do not answer private messages or emails or phone calls, but that doesn't stop them from every day sending me messages, emails, or phone calls, and after a while saying "did you get my message? Why don't you answer me?" Why? Oh let me think? It probably has something to do with the fact that I get close to 10,000 emails EACH and EVERY day, and I'm backlogged by several hundreds or thousands of emails, that I will never have time to read, even if I live to be five hundred years old...and I have posted as much on my FaceBook status, and in big bold letters all over my website.

Well, most of my fans are not crazy enough to go any farther then contacting me offline, however, thee are a few who follow me when I do my shopping, follow my family to restaurants when we go out to eat and sit at the table with us, and show up in our yard, and not only call me, but call all my relatives too, and then shows up at my mother's house with a sob story of not being able to get in touch with me "Why won't she talk to me?"

Grammy Eva in Alaska

*sigh*

Well, there is one in particular, WalMart Dude, who is fast taking over for Joel Bailey (the man who stalked me for a decade and ended up going to prison.)

Now, I don't mind talking to my fans when I meet them in person, and should we meet at random in the store, I don't mind them helping me shop, and should we meet by accident in the restaurant I don't mind them joining us...but that is not the case here with this particular person. No.

This person is obsessive on many levels. Clearly there is a mental problem at work with this person, I'm not sure what, but, among other things, he claims to talk to god, be a prophet, and sadly has a wild story about is mother being an intelligence officer in the military and all these great and wild and wonderful things she did in her military travels all over the world. What he doesn't know, I that I knew his mother before she died. She was a friend of my Grammy Eva's. Here's what REALLY happened to his mother:

In the 1960s, this man's father murdered his 5 year old brother, and his mother, unable to deal with it went clinically insane, had to be institutionalized, and spent the rest of her life in a mental ward drooling and gibbering and not able to string together a complete sentence.

Grammy Eva in Hawaii

My Grammy Eva, worked at the institute where his mother was hospitalized. She took care of the invalide patients there. Grammy Eva, was globetrotter. In her lifetime she had visited all 50 states and 140 different countries. At every location she visited, she would buy a book about the area. He son, was an intelligence officer, a Major, in the Air Force, stationed in the Pentagon. 

It was Grammy Eva's habit to try to comfort the mental health patients she took care of, by bringing her travel books to their bedside, to show them the pictures and tell them about her trip to that place. Whenever her son in the Pentagon wrote her a letter, she would bring these letters to work and read them to the patients.

So, when this man showed up, and told me his name, my response was: "Oh, your mother was a friend on my grandmother's" except I didn't say thing out loud seeing how I have Autism with Selective Mutism and thus do not speak verbally. So, while I know who this man is, and know the truth about his mother, he doesn't know, that I know who his mother was.

Grammy Eva in Germany

He spends hours, talking (lying) about his mothers "great achievements". Literally - he has never showed up and talked for any period of time under 4 hours, often talking steady for as many as 8 hours...yes, he does follow me every where I go all day long, and even stands outside the bathroom door and continues to talk while I use the damned toilet.

Did I mention that walMart dude has a MAJOR obsession with me that is as bad as, if not worse then Joel Bailey's? Like Joel Bailey, this guy has followed me for YEARS and I did not know it, until just a few days ago. Joel Bailey followed me for 7 years before I found out it was happening. WalMart dude, CLAIMS to have known me before Joel Bailey, claims to remember way back when Joel Bailey started harassing me...if that claim is true, it means that WalMart dude has been following me for more than 15 years. And that I find disturbing.


This section of this article has been removed from this excerpt. This page is now an excerpt of a book, instead of an online article. The entire article is no longer available to be read for free online and is now a chapter of the book How We Gypsies See The Americans. To read all 10,000 words of the original full article you will have to GO HERE.


For the next several weeks following the WalMart Incident, WalMart Dude took to calling my dad all night long.

9PM he called my dad.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"We knew each other way back. Give her the phone, I know she's there."

10PM call my dad again.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"Come on, we're buddies she and I. She's known me for years."

11PM called again.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"You know we know each other. We went to school together. Ask her."

Midnight: another call.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"Ask her about how she used to get picked on in school and I was the one who helped her out because I got picked on too."

1AM, he's still calling.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"It's okay, I'm not a stalker I've known her for years. We go way back. We're old friends."

Every night for weeks on end.

Sometimes I was there and heard the conversation. (I had told my dad I didn't want to talk to this guy. He was a stranger, I didn't know him, and he was creeping me out.)

Now here's the thing: I have Autism, I required 24 care by adults, I am NEVER out of the sight of one of my 7 caretakers, and therefore, they know EVERY SINGLE PERSON who ACTUALLY is my friend. My dad is one of said caretakers. He KNOWS this guy is lying about knowing me, being my friend...

and oh yeah... I never went to school. We are Gypsies. Gypsies don't send their children to public school.

And, out of the more then 70 times he called my day over the next few hours, he said "I'm not a stalker" more then 4 times per phone call. I have to seriously question a guy who calls and introduces himself as "I'm not a stalker."

*Keep in mind, that I have Autism, I do not speak verbally, and therefore I do not have a phone.

This guy knows I have Autism

This guy knows I can't speak.

And yet he is calling people he thinks I might know and asking for ME TO TALK TO HIM ON THE PHONE?

Uhm...

Yeah.

So what part of I have Autism and can't speak to you on a phone because I can't speak verbally, does this guy not understand?

In between calling my dad, he starts calling my partner. 

For the next several weeks following the WalMart Incident, WalMart Dude took to calling my dad all night long.

9:30 PM he called my dad.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"We knew each other way back. Give her the phone, I know she's there."

10:30 PM call my dad again.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"Come on, we're buddies she and I. She's known me for years."

11:30 PM called again.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"You know we know each other. We went to school together. Ask her."

Half Past Midnight: another call.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"Ask her about how she used to get picked on in school and I was the one who helped her out because I got picked on too."

1:30 AM, he's still calling.

"Is Wendy there?"

No

"You sure she's not there?"

No

"I don't believe you. Can you give me your home address so I can come and see for myself that she's not there?"

No

"It's okay, I'm not a stalker I've known her for years. We go way back. We're old friends."

Every night for weeks on end.

Repeating to my partner nearly word for word everything he said to me dad.

It was interesting. My dad's phone would ring. Half hour later, my partner's phone would ring, then my dad's again. All night long, for day after day, week after week...

And this is from I guy I had never meet before and who introduces himself with "I'm not a stalker."


Now keep in mind, that I have only had two (2) face to face confrontations with this guy. The first was the WalMart Incident (Black Friday 2013) mentioned earlier and the second was the McDonald's Incident (May 6, 2015), which I am telling you about right now. 

I had never seen WalMart Dude before Black Friday 2013 and I had not seen him again until this week. In both cases, he rudely barged his way into my daily activities and took over, not allowing me or my partner to do a damned thing. WalMart Dude is a control freak to the uber insane extreme.

However. WalMart dude has been following me around the area. How do I know? Because, a few times each month, I come out of whatever store I'm in, to find a note stuck under the windshield wiper of my car.

"Hey! It's Vincent, we meet at WalMart, remember me? haven't heard from you in a while, saw your car, thought I'd let you know I have a coat that needs to be sewed. How about we get together so you can pick it up and sew it for me?"

Okay, uhm...why does this guy want me to sew his coat? For what possible reason does he think I would just randomly sew a coat for a stranger?

"Hi, it's me from WalMart again. I got some socks that need darning. we need to get together so I can give them to you."

Uhm..okay...this is getting creepy. First a note telling me to sew his coat, now a note telling me to darn his socks. Who darns socks in this day and age? Sock are $1 for a 3 pack at most dollar stores these days.

"Me again the guy from WalMart last year. I got some garbage needs removing from my yard. Hear you been hauling stuff out of your yard. Think you can bring the UHaul over and get this stuff out for me?"

Yeah, that one was recent, we had the UHaul last week of March 2015.

Keep in mind, I have only ever meet this guy once, back on Black Friday at WalMart, and he's now every few weeks, leaving notes on my car, at pretty much every store I go to, and in every case, he's making very "1950s style" demands for "house wife work" to be done for him.

This guy, is acting as though, I'm his wife and, it's really creeping me out now. Especially the fact that, no matter where I go, when I come out of the store, ANY store, I come out to find, he's left another note on my car. Which means, this guy is following me around, during my daily activities. He knows, where I go and when I'm there, otherwise, how else could he keep leaving these notes on my car?

Are you starting to see NOW why I am comparing him to Joel Bailey? And WHY I am saying, this guy, may actually be WORSE then Joel Bailey?


And now I give you

THE RETURN OF WALMART DUDE:

The morning of May 6, 2015, I drive to Biddeford to pick up my mom and one of my brothers. They have some errands to do. As they are getting in my car, a familiar green truck, pulls up into the driveway behind me. 

Oh no, not WalMart Dude...what is he doing at my mother's house?

"Hey! EelKat! I found your car!"

I walk down to the end of the driveway to see what he wants. He yaps about how great it is to see old friends (Wait...We are friends? Really? That's news to me.) Says he keeps seeing my car around Sulivane Street and keeps putting notes on my car, but can't figure out where I live, otherwise he'd be talking to me in person instead of leaving notes.

I'm thinking (though not saying: "Great! So instead of leaving notes to ask me to do his cooking and cleaning and sewing and yard work and laundry, now he wants to come to my front door and ask me to do those things for him in person. Greaaaat! Like I really need that."

He asks how things are going. I tell him my cats are being held hostage by the town to blackmail me out of paying my taxes so the town can take the land and I'm in the middle of court battle trying to get my cats back.

He brushes that off and starts yapping about how "I'm a lonely guy and need someone to talk to...blah, blah, blah."

I know, from having meet this guy in WalMart before, that, once he starts talking, he won't stop AND he will follow you from store to store to store, and then follow you to eat and not stop talking for 12 hours straight, because that's what he did before, that's how he got known on FaceBook and KBoards as "WalMart Dude".

i let him yap for a few minutes, and when he gets to a point where he seems to be about to end one story to start another, I say I have to go, my family is waiting for me, we have stuff to do, and I get in my car, pull out around him and drive off.

We go about our day and I assume, that that's the end of it...

I take my mom and brother back home, I head back to Old Orchard, my partner, loads up his trailer full of wood (we had cut 3 trees down that day) and leaves to go take the wood to Wells, to be burned (which is an hour drive away).

So, I'm alone for an hour, until he comes back, and while he is gone, I'm doing random yard work. He is gone about 15 minutes, when I head back to my car to get some things I had left in there, and as I'm doing that, a familiar green truck pulls up into my driveway at 146 Portland avenue. Oh boy. WalMart Dude, now knows where I live and, he's here, in my yard...

And good god...this first thing he says is:

"Nice land you got here, wouldn't mind living here myself. Where's the property lines?"

I tell him, the tree lines are the lines (there are several areas of long straight rows of trees, which outline the entire farm.)

He starts wandering around like he owns the place, pointing out stuff like:

"Yeah, we could put a house right here. Yeah. That'd be nice. Yeah, this is good land. Yeah. I like this. yeah, this is a great place to live, yeah, I could get rid of my mortgage, yeah this is nice, yeah..."

And how does somebody say "yeah" so many times in one day? 

Okay, two things here:

#1: I don't like trespassers, I do not like people coming up into my land uninvited, I do not like strangers wandering around my yard

#2: his timing is bad as frigging fuck - we are in the middle of a battle with the town, because the town is trying to take my land to put a condominium up here, and I have HAD IT up to my eyeballs with people walking around my farm talking about what THEY are going to do to MY land!

...so here is WalMart Dude on my land, talking about HIS plans to put a house on MY land, and I'm wishing I had a gun so I could just blow his brains out for even making the suggestion that he wants my land.

I mean seriously? You walk into my land and start talking about your house building plans...NOW...of ALL times, you could pick, to do that, you do it NOW, while the town is holding my cats hostage, blackmailing me to try to take my land? I mean I've really HAD IT with the people of this town and the shit they have put me through, and right now, there's a lot of people, I'm not happy with, and you really don't want to get on my bad side...not right now, and not while I'm standing on my land holding a machete.

The law may not let me carry the machete off my property, but on my property, I'm well within my rights to have it and use it, and if you're on my land, trespassing and talking about taking my land away from me...let me tell you something: 

one swing of the machette will take your balls

three will take your dick

And don't think staying out of arm's reach is going to protect you because my granddaddy was a lumberjack and he taught me how to throw an axe.

so don't you dare set foot on my land and talk about taking it away from me, not now while the town is holding my cats hostage and threatening to kill them...you make any indication that you are helping the town to hurt my cats, and you've made a bad enemy out of me.

We are Gypsies and this is Maine, and you are on our land, and we don't like it and if you want to keep your scrotum between your legs, you really don't want to come up in my land and start talking about YOUR plans for what YOU are going to do to MY land.

WalMart Dude sees the pile of wood, freshly cut logs, from the the freshly cut trees, and asks about that. I tell him, my partner (using his name) had just left with a load of wood and was returning for the rest...

...ah...

Strange things happened at this point. As soon as I mentioned my partner's name, WalMart Dude's entire facial expression changes. And it's not a good change. I'm good at reading people's facial expressions, and his face was doing several at this point, and it was very obvious, that there was LOTS of hatred and vehement jealous rage boiling in his mind just then.

Now this change in WalMart Dude's facial expression took me by surprise, because at this point, I was unaware of WalMart Dude's motive for being here. It would not be for another ten (10) hours, until I would learn WalMart Dude's motive for being in my yard.

But it bothered me, the fact that WalMart Dude, was very clearly, about his blow his top, over my mentioning my partner's name. Keeping in mind, that my partner and I have been together for 28 years, fast closing in on 29 years in just two short months. But like I said, at this point, I was still thinking of WalMart Dude as just some fan who had read one of my books and wanted to meet the author, I was not yet aware of his ulterior motive...however, his mention of building a house on MY land, should have tipped me off as to what his motive was.


I believe, he may have been attempting to hint of his motive at this point, though I didn't pick up on the meaning of what he was saying until a few hours later, when he added some more information.

But, he's walking around MY yard, talking about building HIS house, and I mention my partner, and his face changes, and I continue to talk about my partner, saying that, he's only going to be gone for a few minutes, he just took a load of wood to the guy in Wells and he'll be right back.

Immediately, WalMart Dude pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking, in spite of the fact that there are No Smoking signs all over our land. He is also well aware of the fact that we are Mormons and Gypsies and by both our culture and our religion, smoking is a grave sin.

He next says (or rather shouts, very angrily and hysterically) to me: "THAT GUY YOU WERE WITH AT WALMART DOESN'T LIKE ME!"

Actually, on the contrary, my partner does like WalMart dude. It was my partner who encouraged WalMart Dude to stay and keep talking at WalMart back in 2013. You see, WalMart Dude is a religion crazed lunatic who can't stop spouting Bible and religion, and so is my partner, who happens to be a high priest, and my partner is always on the look out for people who are religion crazy to talk to so he can have someone to spend hours no stop talking to about religion.

Remember what I told you about the WalMart Encounter? I never said a word, not once in all those many, many, many, many, many hours of WalMart dude following us around that day. My partner was the one he was talking to. My partner was the one who did ALL the answering to WalMart dude's questions. I NEVER said a word to WalMart dude at all, all day long. So on this day in May 2015, this was the first time of me, myself speaking to WalMart Dude with my own mouth.

But WalMart Dude is now flipping out and, whining and pouting and stamping his foot and over all acting like a two year old having a temper tantrum, as he rails on and on about how mean my partner is to him. 

He says he called my partner and my partner told him off. 

Uhm...okay...my partner is a little itty bitty guy who is scared of his own shadow. He runs and hides at the drop of a pin. He faints all the time. He's so nervous that if he ever raised his own voice, he'd scare himself and pass out. I am NOT joking. 

So to hear WalMart Dude tell me that my tiny, scared, nervous wreck, very ancient, elderly, little itty, bitty partner who faints a dozen times a day every time he hears a loud noise, yelled at him and told him off is beyond ludicrous.

So, I'm not liking WalMart Dude more and more, because now, not only has he barged in and trespassed on my land, went around talking about his plans to put a house on my land, disrespected my cats, and now he's lying about my partner to try to make him out to be a mean bully, by accusing him of doing things, the guy is not even physically capable of doing. 

If there is anything I don't like it's a liar, and we had already established that WalMart Dude was a liar two years ago when he lied to me about his mother, and when he lied to me claiming he was a psychic, when the only thing he did was recite everything he had read on my FaceBook about me section.

Now it's possible he got them mixed up: my dad and my partner. My dad on the other hand, he can be a right bastard when he wants to be and he'll tell it like it is and tell you just exactly what he thinks of you, and as we already established, WalMart Dude was calling my father all hours of the day and night.


This section of this article has been removed from this excerpt. This page is now an excerpt of a book, instead of an online article. The entire article is no longer available to be read for free online and is now a chapter of the book How We Gypsies See The Americans. To read all 10,000 words of the original full article you will have to GO HERE.


This section of this article has been removed from this excerpt. This page is now an excerpt of a book, instead of an online article. The entire article is no longer available to be read for free online and is now a chapter of the book How We Gypsies See The Americans. To read all 10,000 words of the original full article you will have to GO HERE.


When I said this is the most persistent of the men who follow me around, I do mean, the MOST persistent, WAAAAY more persistent than even Joel Bailey. And like Joel Bailey, this man too, is completely convinced I am going to leave my husband and marry him instead. Why? Well, because as WalMart Dude puts it: I married him when I was 12, therefor I didn't know what I was doing, I wasn't given a choice, he's a pedophile who belongs in prison, and I belong with someone who'll take care of me.

I can't help but laugh at that. WalMart Dude, gave me a long story of how he's better suited to taken care of me.

Hmmm...and yet, my husband has a job and this guy? This guy, admits that he hasn't worked in 40 years and like to as he puts it "bum off the government". Okay, and he's suposed to take care of me, when doesn't have a job? Honey Pie, I'm high maintenance. If you didn't notice, my gold embroidered dresses, which weigh a ton, weigh a ton, because, oh, look at that, they do be embroidered with real gold. Oh yeah, and then there are all my fur coats, and my cars, and my comic books, and my cats...it costs $500 a month, just for catfood alone, and my cats require 80lbs of Tidy Cat every week. Oh, and did I mention I'm a transvestite and cost a lot of money to keep me looking like a billion dollar baby - make up, hormones, plastic surgery...oh yeah, I may look like a million buck, but, it costs a million bucks to look like this too. Honey, you can't afford to take care of me if all you do is bum off the government.

I can also be  royal bitch if you piss me off

In short, my partner can afford to take care of me and enjoys doing so, and he was born with at least ten silver spoons up his ass, along with the dozen or so in his mouth. So, let's see...if you want me to leave my partner and marry you, the first step would be, to have an income bigger then his...oh and like me, he also can trace his family history for centuries and like me, he too comes from aristocratic blood...in fact, when you go back far enough, (to the 1400s) we have some of the same relatives.

If you're not an aristocrat and can not claim any sort of aristocratic bloodline and, Sugar Plum Pie - I am an a aristocrate by blood, which doesn't mean much in this day and age, but in Medieval time my family was royalty and so was his, and that IS actually something that is really important to me. (In other words I don't mingle my blood line with serfs and peasants.) In order for you to petition to marry me, I'm gonna want to see documented evidence of you family's social status prior the 1500s. If you can't provide documented evidence of where your family was prior to the 1500s, it is because your family were not able to read or write to keep a record of their history, meaning they were not aristocrats.

Honey, you want to replace my partner: you better be able to actually replace him. You really can't do that if you are on welfare and living in an apartment.  Did I mention he was an Austrian? I think I did. Sugar Pie, you want to try to outspend my old Austrian Sugar Daddy - I dare you to try it. How many fur coats are you gonna buy me with your welfare check BuddyBoy? How many rhinestones are you going to put on my car with your government check? How many cats can you afford to feed this week? Did you know he spends $500 a month, just on cat food and cat litter alone? Does your welfare check even pay you $500 a month?

Think about it. Think long and hard. Do you really think you have enough money coming in to take care of me, my cars, my cats, and still be able to feed my book collecting obsession? I have more then 300,000 books, not counting comic books. Did you know that many of my kimono cost several hundred dollars each piece and that the grand total of the costs of my 40+ kimono was more then $7,000 or that the 2.5million marbles glued to my car cost $8,000. Really think about that. 

I don't have much of an income. My income is rarely more then $200 a month. But I don't need an income: I have a Sugar Daddy. And that's why I do have things which cost a lot of money. That is why I can be below poverty level income and still wear the clothes I wear and drive the cars I drive. These things are provided to me by a man who just plain likes spending money on me.

So, when you say you want me to leave him for you, I'm going to expect a certain standard of living, and if you can't provide that, you ain't got a chance with me. When you talk about my partner, do remember that you are talking about a guy who can afford to buy a woman who is half his age,  looks like a supermodel and doesn't mind letting him dress her up like a Barbie doll. If you want to replace him, that's what you have to be able to replace.

To all the American men out there who keep beating a path to my door: Ask yourselves this:

Remove the cars and the furs and the glitter and the glam, and all you have left is little old me...do you REALLY think, I'm what you are attracted to? No. You are attracted to the idea of being in love with a rich woman who'll take care of you.

I look like I do, because I have a Sugar Daddy who keeps me looking exactly the way he wants me to look. Take him out of the picture and there would be no glitter, no glam, no furs, no silks, no cars...he bought those things. take him out of the picture and those things go away too and you are only go to be left, with plain little me.

NEWSFLASH Sugar Pie: I have a wealthy old Sugar Daddy who provides me with all that glitter and glam you guys are falling head over heels for. And guess what: he actually loves me. You want to know how I know? Because he loved me, when I was poor and had no money. He loved me, BEFORE the glitter, before the rhinestoned cars, before the furs...he loved me when I had nothing. 

You men who keep chasing after me: It's not me you are chasing. Not really. It's the idea of me that you are after. Because of how I dress and the cars I drive, you have created this mental image of who you think I must be.

A year ago, I actually had a guy walk up to me with a flyer for a $3million yacht and ask me if I could buy it for him. He thought that based off my clothes and car alone, I was wealthy enough to be able to buy him a $3million dollar boat with my spare change.

It bothered me, quite a bit, that this guy dd this, because what he did, does say a lot about how the public sees me. It was the guy who asked for a boat, that opened my eyes to the fact: Hey, this is why men keep chasing after me: they think I'm a millionaire and they want an inheritance.

Honey, your monthly welfare check is bigger then my yearly income. But I also don't have an income because I don't need one, I have a Sugar Daddy who pays for everything. And I do mean everything. 

Honey Pies, if you guys want to be with me, the REAL me...you'll be doing that without the glitter and glam. Without the clothes and cars. I don't have any money to spend on you and I WILL be expecting you to spend a LOT of money on me, and when you tell me you live in an apartment in Biddeford, and your income is a government check...Honey, you don't have what it takes to take care of me.

And you know what else? I was with him few nearly a decade, before I found out who he was, or the kind of money he had. He wears rags, dresses like a homeless bum, drives a rusted 30 year old car...if you saw him on the streets, you'd peg him as a welfare bum.

That is HOW and WHY he started lavishing me with the beaded gowns, the rhinestoned cars, the fur coats, and all those shiny things you American men are chasing after me for. He did it, because I was with him, for so many years and never asked him for a penny. I didn't know he had money and I stayed with him anyways, and that's why he started spending all his money on me, because he realized I loved him, for him, no for his money.

 You forget, I've been with this man 28 years. We are fast coming up on our 30th anniversary. 

You American men who won't leave me alone are forgetting one very important thing: I was with him for a full decade, before the money: because I love him. And even if you can out buy him, not one of you will ever be able to replace him. I will always love HIM, I will never love you. 

The older he gets, the more I worry about the way American men come after me. Because as soon as he's gone, I know there's a lot of men out there, who've come right out and told me, they'll be expecting me to marry them. 

One man, walked up to me, at the Old Orchard Beach Town Hall, he says to me: "I'm waiting for you to be a rich young widow. I'll be back then. You'll marry me, you'll see." I'm in the middle of a court battle with the town, the men of this town know that, and all they can do is selfishly think about themselves and snagging me like I'm some sort of prize deer.

I don't like that there are so many, self-righteous, rude, arrogant men in this area, who say these sorts of things to me. I don't see men saying stuff like this to other women. Why? Because other women don't look like millionaires. These men have a false impression about who they think I am.

And here's one very important fact, you have yet to consider: my cats. My cats are my children and if you are going to love me, you have to love my cats as well.

As summer draws near and more and more people are in the area, more and more men approach me. Like I said, three this week already.

In this past month, several men have "made their petition" for my affections, and in each case, the first thing I did was tell them about the cats and how the Town of Old Orchard Beach took them away. And in each case I got responses of: "It's just cats" or "I don't like cats." or "I'm a dog person, myself." or "You can always get more cats." or as WalMart Dude put it: "I don't want to hear about cats, tell me about yourself instead."

I got news for everyone of you: any one who knew what the town did to my cats AND DID NOT HELP ME GET MY CATS BACK - hasn't got a chance in hell of getting anywhere's near me, because those cats are my family, and you want to REALLY impress me, then you're gonna have to over turn hell and high water to do EVERYTHING in your power, to get my cats back.

You know what: since my cats were taken hostage, 32 days ago, I've had 3 different men, come up to me and yap on about how I'm supposed to leave my partner to marry them, and to each of these 3 men, I told them about the cats and what happened, and in each case, they brushed it aside: 

One said "Well, it's just cats." Yeah, and you just shot yourself in the foot, because I don't ever want to see you again now. And I have put a curse on you, to make sure you die a long, slow, painful death, alone, tormented, with no one...because you didn't care, how much I am suffering right now, alone, without my cats. May all the fires of hell burn on you.

Like I said, all they want is the money they THINK I have. They don't care about me or my feelings and they don't give a damn about my cats.

This more persistent man, WalMart Dude, the one who follows me to the bathroom and lies about his mother...He wouldn't stop talking about himself, long enough to find out what happened to my cats. This is the single most self absorbed person I have ever meet. He doesn't care about others...he says he does, he brags about how much he cares, but really, all he cares about, is telling people he cares. When he asked how I was doing, I told him about the cats, and he told me he was a psychic and proceeded to list off various things about my life. Then he asked how accurate it was.

I smiled and (trying not to laugh) and told him it was EXTREMELY accurate. He then went on to spend 72 minutes (yes, I counted) telling me how great of a psychic he was and how very much other psychics lived in awe of his powers. 

Do you want to know why I was trying not to laugh?

Because he was only reciting WORD FOR WORD the "About Me" page of my website, changing the words "me" and "I" to "you". That's why it was extremely accurate: because I wrote it, and he read on my website, memorized it, and quoted it back to me.

Then he starts telling me: "I can see you are in awe of my powers, did you know I'm a prophet of god?'

I'm in awe of his powers? Really? Wow. When did that happen? I'm sitting here trying not to roll out of my seat laughing my ass off over the fact that he actually believes I think he's a real psychic and then he tells me he's a prophet? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit here with a straight face while I listen to this guy?

And you want to know something else? He drives up and starts talking at 1PM. I tell him I have to go, because I do...my mother and my brother are already in the car and I'm TRYING to get around him to get in my car, but he won't stop talking and he won't get out of the way.

3PM, he follows us from Biddeford to Old Orchard Beach...and he's still talking. He sit in the driveway, until 5PM, and never stops talking long enough to take a breath.

FINALLY he says: "Well, I'm not usually up during the day, I'm a night owl. I gotta go home and get my sleep."

9PM he starts calling. I finally answer the phone, hoping it'll make him stop calling. I get this whole long pitiful boo-hoo story about pity-me, pity-me, pity-me, I'm a marine with PTSD and can't get a job, I don't want to live, my mother died, I don't have anyone, blah, blah, blah, can I buy you some coffee, I need someone to talk to.

I tell him, I need to be in court in a few days, I have a lot of paperwork to get ready...and he blubbers on with 20 more minutes of sob-story boo-hoo. FINALLY to shut him up, because he's running up my damned phone bill, I say I'll meet with him for a few minutes at McDonalds, but I'm a Mormon. It is 9:45PM, I say, "I have to put away all my court papers and shut down my computer, it'll take me at least 15 minutes to do that, then I will have to get dressed, get my car started (it has to sit and run several minutes before it'll drive, it's 40 years old), it'll be a while."

oh, and let's remember too, that I get up with the sun (5AM) and go to bed with the sun (9PM), I am NOT a night owl, normally I would be in bed at 9PM when he started calling me, and I was only still up because I had court papers I had to write up, and that I needed to get this done, because getting my cats back was IMPORTANT TO ME and if he REALLY cared about me, as much as he keeps saying he did, he would not hinder my getting these paper written for court. And told him all of this too.

This guy is also telling me he cares about me and how well he knows me. And yet it's all over my website and social networks the fact that I get up at sunrise around 5AM and got to bed at sunset BEFORE 9PM and yet, this guy, who supposedly cares about me, spends every night this week, ringing my phone, on the hour, every hour, from 9PM to 1AM, thus rudely disrupting my sleep (and proving he doesn't care about my health) (and also proving that he is too self centered, inconsiderate, and arrogant to call me at a time, when I'm actually awake) making in therefor hard for me to get things done the following day, because I'm now tired after being woken up, on the hour, every hour, all damn night long. WalMart Dude claims to love me and care about me, but he can't stop rudely and inconsiderately disrupting my sleep all night long and that tells me he doesn't give a damned about anything but himself.

The first time he called, I happened to be up late working on court papers, like I said, so I answered the phone (which in itself is a difficult procedure for me, since I have Autism, and considerate people, text me instead of calling me.)

And he's boo-hooing this sob story of how lonely he is and how much he' going to kill himself if he has no one to talk to and I feel sorry for him so agree to meet him at McDonald's, because at the time I thought he genuinly was upset (I would soon come to learn it was all a roose to get me to "go on a date" with him. (I do not like being lied to. Nor do I like that he pulled me away from very important paperwork, just to pamper his selfish, petty whims.) He says "Why don't you take a break, I'll buy you dinner, my treat."

As I said, I tell him, I need to be in court in a few days, I have a lot of paperwork to get ready...and he blubbers on with 20 more minutes of sob-story boo-hoo. FINALLY to shut him up, because he's running up my damned phone bill, I say I'll meet with him for a few minutes at McDonalds, but I'm a Mormon. It is 9:45PM, I say, "I have to put away all my court papers and shut down my computer, it'll take me at least 15 minutes to do that, then I will have to get dressed, get my car started (it has to sit and run several minutes before it'll drive, it's 40 years old), it'll be a while."

10PM, he shows up at my mother's house to sob-story and boo-hoo at her about how I "stood him up". Really? I have an XP computer, at 10PM I was still waiting for it to shut down, EXACTLY as I told him, I would be doing. I can't just drop everything and poof magically appear, 15 miles away. I'm not exactly near by the McDonald's in Biddeford, where he said he had to meet, because it was less then a mile from his place, in spite of the fact that it was a 15 mile drive for me.

Are you starting to get a since of how incredibly selfish and inconsiderate this guy is? Yeah.

And if you are asking, so why did I go? Well, because he was threatening to kill himself if I didn't.

Okay, my rhinestone car, drives REALLY slow. For starters, it's a 4 cylinder and it's a, really, really, really old antique 4 cylinder. It never went about 60 miles an hour to begin with, and now it is weighted down with 2.5million GLASS marbled that weigh...several hundred pounds. It rides really low ans squat to the ground because all that heavy glass glued to it is really heavy, and not arrowdynamic.

My car, with the marbles on it is no longer physically able to drive at a speed in excess of 45 miles per hour, and 45 miles per hour is dangerous in that car, due to the extreme wind resistance caused by the wind hitting the ridges of the marbles' edges. At 45 miles per hour, the reaction of the wind hitting the marbles, causes the car to shimmy and shake, and makes steering near impossible. So I can not drive the car SAFELY at anything over 35 miles per hour.

And I'm 15 miles away from the location where he wants to meet. That means there is no way for me to drive there are at anything less then 30 minutes, and that is after the minimum of the 15 minutes it's going to take for my XP computer to save the court documents (the affidavit I was required to send to the judge) I was typing up when he so rudely interrupted me. 

It was going to take me at least 40 minutes to arrive at the Biddeford McDonald's, meaning there was no way for me to get there before 10:40PM It was 9:45PM when I told him this, and he shows up at my mom's house at 10PM to tell her I stood him up.

Yeah, great way to impress me, Dude.

I know this because my mother calls me at 10PM to find out who the hell this guy is at her door, waking her up in the middle of the night, and why he's claiming I stood him up.

So not only is he inconveniencing me on many levels, now he has gone to my mom's house, gotten her up out of bed to LIE about me to her, telling her that we are going out on a date and I stood him up, and boo-hoo, now he has to kill himself because he's a marine with PTSD, and I am so infuriated at him, that I would have turned around and driven back home, except by this point he now owes me a meal. And he did say he was buying me a meal.

Think he does what he says and buys me a meal? Think again. Did I mention this guy was selfish, rude, self-centered, and inconsiderate? Oh, yeah...big time.

When I get to the McDonald's, he gives me more boo-hoos and sobs about, oh how overjoyed he is that I didn't stand him up like the last women did...who at this point he starts listing off, starting with girls he knew in grade school.

Okay...desperation is not attractive, so, yeah, spending 87 minutes (yes, I counted) listing off several dozen old girlfriends and how, when, and where each one dumped him, is really sending off bad signals. Now, he already started off bad, by lying to my mother and claiming he and I were going out on a date.

We are Gypsies, Sugar Pie, you don't barge in on family uninvited and you don't lie to momma. We were not out on a date, I was only going there to get his mind off killing himself, and for no other reason. I was VERY  offended by the fact that he was running around telling people we were on a date. I did not like the slick, underhanded, sneaky snake, lying tactic he had used to get me to agree to meet him, and then turn around and run to my mother's house to lie about me and say we were out on a date...this is yet another indication that this guy is INCREDIBLY selfish, self centered, and inconsiderate of those around him.

I don't like being lied to or lied about. 

I had a hell of a lot more important things to do then sit there listening to him list of old girlfriends, and tell me he was psychic and a prophet of god, and sit there lying to me about his mother. But did he care that I had court dates to get ready for and only a few hours left to do it? NO!...this is yet another indication that this guy is INCREDIBLY selfish, self centered, and inconsiderate of those around him.

It was just one lie after and another with this man. He didn't know I knew his mother, and knew that she never did a one of those great and glorious things he was claiming she did. Then he starts pulling out family photos of his dad and talking about how his dad left when he was a kid. uhm, yeah...I know...he went to prison Dude because he murdered your 5 year old brother, that's how your mom went nuts and why my Grammy eva had to take care of her all those years. But I do not tell him, I know what his father did or the truth about his mother I just let him yap on.

He buy's coffee after coffee, for himself, buys me a .99c tea (keeping in mind here that I am a Mormon and we do have a very strict diet with includes not drinking coffee, tea, or soda, or eating meat). He asks if I want anything to eat, I tell him the only thing McDonald has that I am allowed to eat it the fish sandwich and the fries. He says "okay", Goes off, orders a big tray full of a huge stack of hamburgers and sits there eating one hamburger after another, then ask: "Aren't you going to get anything?"

Ah.

Well, let's see: What part of I am a Gypsy and Gypsy women are not allowed to carry money on them, do you not understand?

When he called me and first asked me to meet him, his exact words were "I'm buying; it's my treat." I didn't think to bring any money with me, based off the fact that he had said that to me. Again, I don't like being lied to and I don't like rude, ill mannered, people who lack etiquette or dignity. No well bred man would ever eat in front of a lady, until she food as well...this is yet another indication that this guy is INCREDIBLY selfish, self centered, and inconsiderate of those around him; he's racking up demerits pretty fast here.

I do not like people who do not have manners. Remember what I said about being an aristocrat and not liking to be around peasants and serfs? I'm not joking. I mean that. I don't like slobs and people without manners and etiquette.  

This man knows I am a Gypsy, he mentions it several times, at one point claiming his mother was a Gypsy (I know for a fact that she wasn't). I do not live anything close to an American lifestyle and man, claims to have read every page of my website and all of my books...interesting, because my web site says a lot about Gypsy lifestyle, in fact most of this book you are reading right now, originally appeared as a series of shorter articles on my website, before being complied to make this book.

The I found interesting is the claim that he's read my books. Why? Well, in between all the yapping about his mother and his PTSD, he was also yapping about his "gay buddy" and made several referances using the phrase "Well you know what those gays are like" Oh, yes. Yes. I do. Yes. Yes. I am well aquainted with what "those gays" are like. Wow. And this guy claims to have read every page on my web site and all of my books. 

He must have missed Quaraun series and the Twighlight Manor series. You know, the two series I write, which are pretty much the only thing I write and all the characters are, you know, gay...oh...oh...oh...he must have missed the section on my website about being a transgendered person and, all of it's many, many, many pages about, you know, being gay, living as a woman, and annoying it is for me to have to deal with American men who are looking for a vagina to fuck...but, hey, yeah, keep on telling me how you've read my books and my website and complaining about all those gay people you don't like and can't stand to be around, while simultaneously telling me that you are looking for a new girlfriend and I should leave my partner of 28 years to be with gay-hating little you.

Yeah...I take it that he doesn't know what a transgendered person is and is confused by the fact that I'm sitting here in all my pink sparkling dresses and looking like a runway model, with my hair done up and my make-up and jewely and furs, and my rhinestone car...Honey, I'm a fricking drag queen, do you even know what that is? 

Oh, sure, take a drag queen out to eat and then sit there telling her how much you hate gay men. Good one.

TIP: Don't take a drag queen out to eat and then spend the night talking about how much you can't stand gay men. GOOGLE: drag queen.

May I direct you to the wiki page which explains the meaning of the flag on my car: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgender_flags#Transgender_Pride_flag

Let me introduce you to the flags on my car: in order: Voodoo Priestess;  Scottish, Gypsy, Transgendered 

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CEuW5HaW0AANQvq.jpg:large

I repeat: if you are going to take a drag queen out to eat, don't spend the night talking about "those gays" & how much you don't like them.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgender_flags#Alternative_transgender_flag_designs

Notice the color? pink, pink. pink, lilac, purple, blue...now let's look at my website: https://www.eelkat.com  notice anything? Like maybe the colour?

Google transgender, tranny, dragqueen, and two-spirited persons and know what it means before taking me out to eat again.

And if you read my books, how did you miss Etiole of the Twighlight Manor Series and Quaraun of the Quaraun series? My two GAY drag queen main characters, who are ubber gay to the max, screaming drag queens the both of them, either one of them making Liberace look straighter then a board.

Oh yes, and you've read every page of my website? I think you missed the ENTIRE 40 page section on being transgendered.

And then, he tells me, I should leave my husban to marry him instead? After he gets done ratting on how much he don't like the gays, and he's a real man, a macho man, a ladies man...don't lie & say you read my books & my website, then brag how macho you are because you don't like gay men, & think I should marry you. Me! Sugar Pie - if you don't like gay men, why should I leave my man to marry you? Explain that one...really, try to explain that one to me! If you hate gay men, Sugar Pie, then what are you doing chasing after me? I'm a drag queen, Honey, I don't hide that fact. Don't you know what that means?

Don't try to impress a tranny, with how macho ladies man you are and how you ain't like those gayz...and damn, you shouldn't try to pick up a woman that way either...putting other people down to make yourself sound big? only makes you small. Men who try to be big macho guys by putting gay men down to try to impress a woman are so annoying, esp when they do it to someone like me.

He kept talking about his gay friend while adding every time "we hang out but I'm not gay" and "he did blah, blah, blah, but you know what those gays are like"...yep, I sure do. 

Oh yes, my readers know, what happens next - I'm so having someone do this to Quaraun in my next book. 

But the nerve of this man. He hates gay men, but has read ALL my books & LOVES them? What the fuck? And yet the only thing I write is gay fiction with lots gay fuking going on. The men in my books are always fucking each other. They is horny as heck and chasing after each other all the time. The books ain't about sex, but they got sex in them.

And this guy is trying to butter me up, telling me he's read my books and thinks they are just wonderful? Hey, here's a tip for you: don't tell an author you read their books unless you ACTUALLY read their books! I'm gonna know if you read them or not by what you say about them. I mean, I did write them after all, I do know what I wrote.

I asked him, if he'd ever read gay fiction "Nooooo, wouldn't touch the stuff"...REALLY? ...and yet he claims to have read my books...good one!

He is lucky that I am a well bred aristocrate with dignety and manners. Were I crude like an American woman, I would have tossed my hot tea in his face. 

NEWSFLASH: This drag queen, is not impressed. No, she isn't. And she's now going to write a book about how this sort of thing make her feel. 

Throughout the night, I was reminded again and again, how utterly selfish and self-centered this man was. He talked a good talk of careing for others, but he was very much thinking only of himself, and that is one trait I very much do not like in a man.


This section of this article has been removed from this excerpt. This page is now an excerpt of a book, instead of an online article. The entire article is no longer available to be read for free online and is now a chapter of the book How We Gypsies See The Americans. To read all 10,000 words of the original full article you will have to GO HERE.


This man, knows me well enough to know I was only 12 years old...and, made a point of spending a full 40 minutes putting my husband down, and saying he will "help me" file charges against him and put him in prison as a pedophile, if I agree to marry him. Oh my. He never had a chance with me, to begin with, but if he had, that's the thing that would lost me right there. Gypsies put family first. You DO NOT ask a Gypsy to turn on family EVER. I love this man, I been with him for 28 years. I don't care, how much my age, irks your narrow American mind, I will NEVER turn on my husband EVER. but I won't think twice of turning anyone who asks me to turn on my family. This Dude crossed a bad line, when he said that about my husband.


So, this guy, who claims to know me SO WELL, because he's read everything I've written, is scarfing down one hambuger after another and yapping about his mother's world travel adventures, which were my grandmothers travel adventures (and I have all the travel books and photos of her at those locations to prove it), is now saying he has to smoke, and continues talking about talking to god and Jesus and being a prophet (boy does Biddeford have a lot of prophets talking to god in it because this is a completly different guy then the other two "prophets" I already mentioned). If he really had read anything I wrote about myself on my website, he would have not only known I was transgendered (and not what he was thinking I was) AND he would have known that Mormons don't drink coffee or tea or soda or eat meat or drink alcohal or smoke...and are of the belief that any person who does so is a sinner and going to hell no matter how much they claim otherwise and WE DON'T ASSOCIATE WITH PEOPLE WHO SEE NOTHING WRONG WITH CORRUPTING THEIR BODY!


The body is a holy temple of the lord, a sacred vessal and if you are stuffing it full of smoke, you are saying to god, you don't give a rat's ass about the glorious gift he gave you. And i say that, many, many,, many times on my website, on many page. I had several Squidoo lenses devoted just to that topic and he also claimed to have read my Squidoo lenses. There are no smoking signs on my car, my motorhome, and on the trees in my yard.


He says to me: "I know you don't smoke, but everyone's gotta have at least one vice."


Really? Is that what you are gonna say to god when he's telling you, you can't go to heaven because you didn't take care of the body he gave you?


This guy is quote Bible verses all night long, and yet, he's smoking?


Read the Bible jackass: The story of the man who gave the talents (a type of coin) to his servents. Do you know what that story means? No? Let me tell you:


A man had to go away on a trip, he had 14 coin. To his most trusted servent he gave 10 coins for safe keeping. To his second servent he gave 3 coins for safe keeping. To his other servent he gave only one coin. The man went on his trip and was gone for a very long time. After many months he returned. He went to his servents and asked: What did you do with the coins I entrusted in your care?


The first servent said: I took them and used them wisely and now instead of 10 coins I have 30 coins to return to you.


The second servent said: I took them and used them wisely and now instead of 3 coins I have 6 coins to return to you.


The third servent said: Master, I knew you were a hard man and greatly valued your coin, and so I took it and hid it in the dirt and but a barrle over it that no one would steal it from you. (He gives the dirty, carroded, ill cared for coin back to the Master.)


The Master says to the first servent:


Because you were good and faithful and took care of the things I gave you and made them better then they were when I gave them to you, I shall give you your own lands and your own house and your own servents and I shall return the 30 coins to you.


The Master says to the second servent:


Because you were good and faithful and took care of the things I gave you and made them better then they were when I gave them to you, though not as well as you could have done, I will make you the chief over my other servents and give the 6 coins back to you.


The Master says to the third servent:


Because you were a lazy and slothful servent, who hid the things I gave you, and corrupted them, returning them to me damaged, I shall make you a slave in the household of my first servent, and this dirty coin I will give to him, for he knows how to take care of the things I entrusted to him.


People today, often translate this story to mean, your gifts, things you are good at doing, your talents, and hobbies because the name of the coin in the story is a talent. HOWEVER, it is about ALL THINGS the Master (God) has given you, including your body. And if you do not take care of your body and return it to god in better condition then he gave it to you, he will take it away from you, and you will not be allowed in heaven, you will be a slave to the angels. And THAT is why I do not smoke, drink coffee, or eat meat, or have sexual relationships with anyone other then my husband.


Oh, and don't go waiting for him to die or for me to leave him, because I got news for you Honey, being with only one man, MEANS being with ONLU ONE MAN. If he dies, I'm not going to replace, with you or anyone else, because my body is a temple of the lord, and will not defile it, but ever being with a second man.


We are Gypsies: we don't believe in divorce, remarriage, sex outside of marriage, or ever having sex with second person - EVER.


You shit assed American lust bucket fuck heads, need to get that through your brains and leave us Gypsy women alone. Unlike you, we have morals, and we actually live them, we don't just talk about them in church on Sunday and then return to our sin on the weekdays, like a dog returns to it's vomit. We will NOT cast our pearls among your swine.


Think on that for a while: we see your perverted, lustful, sex crazed, women chaseing men as swine. And the Bibles warns us to stay away from the swine, come out from among them, do not live with them, do not walk among them, shake their dust from our feet, that it that it may not contaminate our purity.


I am not available and you American jackasses need to get that through your head. No ammount of sweet talking or giving me gifts or buying me meals or finding excuses to spend time with me, is ever going to convince me to cheat on my husband. And after he's gone, the answer is still the same. He is my mate, in the this life and the next. When he is gone, he will waiting in heaven for me, and I will not destroy our relationship in this life or the next life, just because you can't keep it in your pants whenever I'm around.


Or yeah and guess, what, telling me your horny or aching or any of those others thing: I carry a machette; you pull your cock out around me and I WILL cut it off and nail it to my front door. Don't you dare think I won't.


You men think you are being so cool, with all your stupid talk: I'm not impressed with your trashy lifestyle and immoral ways. You are we call evil.


Now granted, I only the American men who up here in the wilds of Maine. Perhaps men elsewhere in the country are not so bold as the men around here are. I wouldn't know. I've never lived anywhere else, but I can tell you this: the american men here in Maine, they do paint a pretty picture of American society. and if they are an example of what men are like in the rest of the country, they we want no part of their lifestyle. Your lewd, crude, vulgar men are too busy chasing after everyone else's wives to settle down and raise a family.


You want to prove to me you are a good family man (as several men have said to me)...guess what: when you try to convince a woman, to leave her husband, because you are "better", the only thing you prove, is that you are a home wrecker, and NOT good family man material.


Several times throughout the night I tell the guy I have to be in court this week, I need to get my papers written so I can get my cats back. He brushes it off every time with "Yeah, yeah, but..." and then starts talking about either his old girlfriends, his gay buddy that he can't stop making anti-gay jokes about, or his mother.


I point out a couple of times that McDonald's has a "No Loitering" sign which plainly states "Please leave after 30 minutes" and has a warning that they will call the police if you are staying too long. (Homeless people hunkering down in businesses is a big problem in Biddeford, so these sorts of signs are not unusual in this area.) Every time I point this out, he goes up and buys himself another tray full of hamburgers (this guy reminds me of The Cookie Monster only with hamburgers) and points out that the sign says he can stay as long as he keeps eating. That is NOT what the sign says.


A few times he asks me to tell him about myself and each time he does, I start to talk about the cats being held hostage by the town to blackmail me out of paying my taxes. Each time I say this, I get about 2 sentance in before he says, "yeah, yeah, I don't want to hear about that, tell me about yourself."


At this point I just want to punch him in the face. Because those cats are my life. They are my family, and you don't want to hear about my cats, then Buddy, you really ain't going to like me, because there is a reason people around here call me the crazy cat woman, and it's because I real like cats. Cats is all I ever talk about. I have hundreds of pictures of my cats. I paint paintings of my cats. There are cats painted on my freaking car. 


You want to know about me and my life and what I do? It can be summed up in one word.


Cats! Cats! Cats! Cats! Cats!


I buy 80lbs of cat litter a week.


I buy 50lbs of catfood a week.


I buy turkeys, chickens, steaks, fish, hams, cheese, and milk, and every bit of it is food for my cats.


If you don't like my cats, then you sure as hell ain't gonna like me. There was one point in my life whyen I had 84 cats.


That is me. That is who I am.


Cats! Cats! Cats! Cats! Cats!


If you don't like cats, you ain't gonna like me, because I like cats, and like cats way better then I like people. I can live just fine without people.  


But no, you don't want to hear about cats? You want to hear about me? Cats is what I do. 


Cats. Cars. Comic Books. The three Cs, remember? I talk about the three Cs all the time. I don't talk about anything else. 


Cats. Cars. Comics.


If you don't want to hear about cats, cars, and comics, you don't want to spend time with me, because I don't talk about anything else.


You asked me, what was going on in my life right now, and I said, my cats were stolen and I'm trying to get them back, and that's as far as I get before you shut me off ad say you don't want tohear about cats you want to hear about me? Those cats ARE MY LIFE! There is nothing else I talk about, so if you don't want to talk about cats, i ain't got nothing to say to you at all.


So he says: "Well, tell me about religion, you're a religious person."


No. I'm not. I come from a long line of religion crazed lunatics, including members of Heaven's Gate, some of whom are still alive and are now waiting for another comet, because they say HaleBop was the wrong one.


He asks: "Well didn't you go to a lot of churches?"


Not of my own free will I didn't. I got dragged to five different churched every Sunday of my childhood, more churches on Saturday, and still more on Wednesdays and Fridays. And that doesn't include prayer meetings, tent revivals, or song services. From 7AM to 11PM every Sunday we was in church. There are lots of church in Maine and I've been to just about every one of them at one point or another, because my relatives are religion crazy. And people want to know why me and more brothers WILL NOT set foot in a church today?


I want NOTHING to do with church any more. They are filling with hypacrite who sit around patting each other on the back and puffing each others pride up. That ain't church, it's just a clubhouse.


But oh, you should have heard this guy. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. Religion. For three freaking HOURS.


I got to hear how he went to Jewish Synagogs and converted to Judisim, after many years of Catholicism, then went to Seventh Day Adventisim, and then became a Buddist. And then reached enlightenment and visited god and now he's a prophet, but he likes to call himself a mystic. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. For three hours.


And then he's quoteing stuff wrong. 


And then he's started reading poetry.


And then he tries to tell me he's like Edgar Allan Poe. No. He wrote Horror, lyrical Dr Suess style Horror. This guy has written long odes to religion. It's not the same thing at all. Poe wrote stories in poem format. He did not write odes to religion.


Then he tells me he's like Vincent Van Gothe, personality wise. And I'm thinking: Yow! That's scary. Vincent Van Gothe is the guy who stalked a woman for years and when she got married he cut his ear off and sent it to her as a wedding gift. He's not the type of person you want to be comparing yourself to when you are trying to impress a girl on a date, which is what he was now saying this was...and it wasn't, so I was becoming very uncomfortable with his now calling this "our first date".


This guy was starting to creep me out, espically when he was saying he was a prophet who talked to god in the same breath he was comparing himself to Vincent Van Gothe when it comes to love.


Then he starts telling me his entire family medical history, and how old everyone was when they died. He spends a few minutes bragging on longivity, and healthy stock, and how he and I would make great babies together.


Uhm...yeah...ooookaaaay. 


And this guy KNOWS I'm a drag queen, so I'm kind of wondering at this point, WHAT exactly he thinks a drag queen is, because, yeah, him and I making babies together, that really ain't happening any time soon. But hey, let's let the guy talk himself into a corner and see what else he says.



My entire life revolves around those cats, and if you don't want to hear about my fight to try to get them back after they were stolen from me, then, you sure as hell don't want to be near me, because once you dis my cats, all I want to do is rip the table off the wall and beat you in the head with it. How DARE you say my cats don't matter! I realize at this point I really need to leave, because, I have a short temper when it comes to protecting my cats and I've had it with this guy asking me to tell me about me and then saying he doesn't want to hear about the ONLY thing that is important to me. I'm just really wanting to punch this guy out at this point, and though I am sitting quietly, smiling, and knodding to every thing he says, inside, I'm turning into the Hulk and bashing his brains in, and I know my limits and I'm about at them at this point, so it's really time for me to leave before I lose it and just punch this guy out in the middle of the resturant.


So, these are the thoughts going through my head as this guy is scarffing down hamburgers and coffee, in between running out to smoke. I don't know how long this McDonald's stays open, it must be a 24hr one, because it got to be 2AM and he's still ordering more burgers and coffee for himself, and I'm getting too tired to drive because it's now 5 hours past my bedtime. I finaly get up and just go out to my car, because it is obvious this guy is simply never going to let me leave unless I just walk out on my own.


This guy has been very rudly sitting he eating in front of me for the past 5 hours, so now I'm hungry, So I look to see if I have any change in my purse, I find $3 in quarters, buy a large fry for $2.79 and go out to get in my car...


Ohmigawd! The guy goes nuts!


He's been sitting there happily yapping and gulping down food, sort of "sweet and innocent" in his manner, kind of like a kid, friendly and harmless.


But OMG! The moment I go out the door and head to my car, the guy flips out and starts going major nutjob meltdown on me, screaming at the top of his lungs and making a big scene:


"You can't leave me, the last woman that left me, left me because she was gay! She dumped me for a lesbian! You can't dump me too!"


I'm really trying not to laugh as I'm thinking, and not saying out loud, Buddy, at least your last gay woman was a lesbian, not a tranny drag queen. Good god!


And, wow, I've known this guy, what, 5 hours now, and he knows I'm married, I've told him multiple times I was not leaving my husband, I will not cheat on my husband, etc, etc, etc. He's flipping out and going total nut bags on me, and he's acting like we have been a couple for decades and I'm ripping his heart out by breaking up with him...and yet, I don't even know who this guy is, he's a total stranger to me, whom I only just meet 5 hours ago!


Okay, NEWSFLASH: Just because YOU have been reading my books/blogs/sites for YEARS and you THINK you are my best friend and lover because you've read so much about me over the years, doesn't me I know a thing about you or have any clue who you are. OKAY?


You are a fan of mine. I get that. And I try to be nice to fans. I try to be friendly and talk and if they want to have dinner at MacDonland's okay, I do that. Honey - I've gone out to eat with DOZENS of my fans and readers, okay? It's just something I do, to be nice to them. It DOES NOT mean, I'm your girlfriend or that we are out on a date. 


I am married. Or as married as people like us can be, given the laws of the country. I have a wonderful, kind and loving partner, whom I have been with for 28 years. I have no intention of leaving him. And when he dies, I have no intention of replacing him. I WILL remain alone.


And I'm watching this guy and listening to the stuff he's saying (all his plans for me and him to get married and settle down and have lots of babies, and raise rotweilers, blah, blah, blah...) and now I'm wondering about ALL those dozens of "girlfriends" he had listed as having. How they all broke up with him after only a few dates.


Yeah.


If all those "dates" where anything like this "date", I can see why he's had so many "girlfriends" break up with him. Of course, I'm still trying to figure out how he came to the conclusion we were out on a date to begin with, or how we got from, a first date to plans of weddings, houses, babies, ad rotweilers. 


Okay, and why rotweilers? I don't even know where that came from. He just threw that in there. Him and I are supposed to live happily ever after, breeding rotwilers? What? o_0 

First off, I'm not a dog person. I always have a dog, but it's always a small dog. I DO NOT like big dogs. And by big dogs I mean anything over 20lbs. The bigger the dog the less I like it and a rotweiler is a 100lb dog.

Here's the thing: I have been injured by big dogs multiple times, both as a child and as an adult. I've had DOZENS of my pets killed by a nieghbor's pack of big dogs that they refused to keep leashed. 

As a child, my parents had a herd - a herd- of big dogs. I used to run in terror, as eight (8) big dogs would leap over the fence and all land on me at once. They were all friendly, but I was only a toddler. I couldn't have weighed more then 40lbs and here were 8 dogs, each over 75lbs all landing on me at once: it hurt. I was daily getting bloody noses, bloody lips, black eyes, etc. I lost multiple teeth. Several times I had a concusion from the dogs slamming my head on the ledge rocks in the yard. My parents cared more about the herd of big dogs then they did me. When the dogs jumped on me and smashed my head open and I ran inside with blood gushing down my head, face, and neck, they laughed and said "Ooooooh how cuuuute!" I've been pushed down stars by big dogs. I've had bones broken by big dogs.

I have a MASSIVE  phobia of big dogs. I can't even be in the same room as a big dog without freaking out and going into seizures, caused by a massive fear of big dogs. I have PTSD and big dogs are one of the triggers.

So, for this guy to be planning our marriage 5 hours after we meet, and talking about me being his wife and helping him raise rotweilers...this is yet another indication that this guy is INCREDIBLY selfish, self centered, and inconsiderate of those around him...as if I needed more proof of this fact.


This section of this article has been removed from this excerpt. This page is now an excerpt of a book, instead of an online article. The entire article is no longer available to be read for free online and is now a chapter of the book How We Gypsies See The Americans. To read all 10,000 words of the original full article you will have to GO HERE.


This guy is just going nuts, screaming that I'm ripping out his heart and breaking up with him...oh good god! I guess he was right when he said he was like Van Gothe.

So I sit down on the curb and watch the guy have a psychotic meltdown, as he starts lighting one cigarette after another and drinking coffee left and right while he's screaming: 

"I'm bi-polar! I have post traumatic stress disorder! I have manic depression!..."

I'm thinking...okay, bi-polar, well, I can certainly SEE that! The whole town can see it. All the customers have come out of Micky-Ds and are standing outside gawking. The workers are also standing outside. The manager is looking at his cell phone like he's trying to decide if he should call the police or not. A crowd gathers around my rhinestoned car and starts taking pictures of my car, angling the cameras so they can get the crazy guy with long unbrushed hair and dirty tobacco stained beard screaming and tossing cigarettes and coffee around.

And he's listing off one mental illness after another...

"My psychologist says..."

and

"I have 3 dozen psychiatrists!"

Oh, ONLY 3 dozen, eh? Sure you don't need any more.

And I'm thinking...oh no, not another one. This is another of of the paitents that got let lose in Biddeford after Pine Land Center shut down, isn't it? Good god! They are EVERYWHERE in this town.

But this guy is just going major nut job on me here, and he's acting like we are a couple, and this is only the second time in my entire life, that I have ever seen him. This guy is like Joel Bailey all over again. Omg! Do remember Joel Bailey? Yei! That man stalked me for years.

Damn, these men that follow me around. What is wrong with them? And why do they keep coming after me? I mean, why me? Of all the girls they could find to go after, why do so many of them run after me?

But damn, this guy was just nuts, and I'm just wow...why are guys like this always so atrracted to me?

Then, as suddenly as he flips out, he goes back to being the laid back, yappy dude that can't stop talking. 

And here's where it gets really weird, the next thing he does it sits down on the curb beside me and says: "So what do you think of me? Am I cute? Sexy? Funny? Think we can go out on another date? Where you impress?"

I'm still trying to figure out how he thought this was a first date to begin with and now he wants a second date? Wait a minute? What? This wasn't a date! This was some psycho crazed fan boy blubbering that he was going to kill himself if I didn't meet him for coffee. I mean, next love-sick blubbering fanboy that does this, I'm just gonna ignore him and let him kill himself, because I don't need the stress of having to deal with this.

And was I impressed? Seriously? You act like a juvaline delinquent from Lord ofthe Flies and think I'm gonna be impressed? The thing you have to remember is: my cats have a deadline on their lives. The town is demanding randsom money or they are going to kill my cats, and when I said this, the guy said "Well, I'd like to help, but..." and then he listed off a long list of absolutly everything he could think of.

Newsflash: those cats are my children, and if you haven't got any care to help me save their live, then I don't have any care about your sorry waste of an existance at all. It's as simple as that. You REALLY want to impress me? The town wants $5,000 in exchange for my cats' lives. You want to impress me, the only thing that'll work is moving hell and earth to do everything in your power to keep my cats alive, otherwise, I want nothing to do with.

And since you asked: Cute? Sexy? No. I got a thing for clean shaven blue-eyed blonds with German accents and if you had ever read a single one of my books you would have known that. 

And, you're too young for me. Part of his "sales pitch" was the fact that he was close to my own age (he is 53). Okay, let's go back to my books for a minute. Anyone who ACTUALLY knows me, knows I am insanly head over heals in love with Roderic Swanzen owner of The Twighlight Manor. A man whose age is unknown (in excess of 500 years) and is described as "looked to be about 90 years old, were he a human". He is an albino, with ghastly pale skin, and blue eyes so pale they almost look white, and silvery platnium hair, now turned pure white.

Okay, this guy, when he was in our yard taking to me, he also saw, meet, and talked to my partner. For those who don't know, my partner is not a Gypsy, nor is he an American. He is from Austria, and he's almost as white as an albino, has icey pale blue eyes, so pale they look white (even more so now that the pupils have clouded over silver with cateracts), and as an elderly man his hair has gone pure white, but in his younger days it was naturally nearly white silver blond. He's GORGEOUS! I can stare at him for hours. He is the most mesmerizingly, hypnotically beautiful man I have ever seen...and he's got a German accent. I love it! He is like, absolute perfection.

Look at the men in my books: Roderic, Etiole, Razz, Quaraun....I got a whole bevy of georgous, blue-eyed blonds with pearl coloured skin, and they are all old and ancent and speak with an accent, and there's a reason for it: I based everyone of them off of my partner.

Now that is not to say this man is not cute or sexy for someone elses's perspective. I simply have two basic types of men I am attracted to: super pale blue-eyed albinos, and Asian men, or black Asian men.  If you want me to think you are cute or sexy, you have to be either an albino or an Asain, because those are the only two types of guys that really do anything for me at all. So, well, you can see why I flipped head over heels for Lord Sesshomaru right? OMG! He's an albino Japanesse man! He's the two best looking types of men in one man, I love him! And yes, I know he's a cartoon, but I still love him. But that's what is boils down to: if you ain't albino or Asian, I'm not attracted to you. I'm just not attracted to any other type of men. Sorry.

I meet this man once who was half black and half Asian, and he was soooooo pretty! I've never been able to get him out of my head, and so he's the person I designed Unicorn to look like. Unicorn is described as a black Asian man with a Welsh accent and wild long dreadlocks, because I once saw a black Asian man with a Welsh accent and long wild dreadlocks and he was gorgeous, I've no idea who he was, but as soon as I saw him, I knew I had to design a character based off of him and so I created Unicorn. 

My partner once had this idea that he'd be a polygamist, but he asked for my permission. I said only if I could have an extra husband for every extra wife he got to have. He changed his mind after that. But it he had agreed to it, I would have had him, all nice and pearly albino white, and a whole harem full of Japanese and Cantonese men. I love the Bishies.

And then there is something to be said of the clothes making the man. Do notice that my partner often wears a suit and tie, and that hen not in suit and tie, he's wearing a clean, long sleeved, button front, cotton dress shirt. He wears navy blue suits and pink shirts, that beautifully match his eyes and complexion.

Clean, well pressed, color coordinated, matching his skin tone and eyes. Looks like an aristocrat. Carries himself proudly, without slouching, when he walks.

So, nope, wild eyed, long (tobacco stained) beard, long (unbrushed) haired, crazy mountain man, dressed in the miss matched rags of a homeless bum, doesn't turn me on at all.

Oh and then there is Joel Bailey. If you are one of my long time readers, you'll remember him, boy oh boy will you ever remember him. But for those of you who are only just discovering me, let me introduce you to the (married) man who was by far the most persistent and annoying of any man to ever set his sight on forcing me against my will to marry him...

(end of book excerpt...you can read more here)


Other cultures must do what the Americans requires or be punished and destroyed. THAT is the American way. We find your egotistical arrogance, you cruel insensitivity, your lack of kindness or compassion,  your back-biting back-stabbing thievery, and your heavy handed bullying to be distasteful. 

That is how we Scottish Gypsies see you.




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