The Hitman
If it weren't for the interweb, I would never have met The Hitman. I met him on a night out with one of my interweb friends- I went to pick up my friend, and he had this other guy with him...

He was wearing a black shirt, black trousers, and a red tie. Had a completely shaved head. He was also wearing leather gloves, and possibly a long coat. Did I mention it was July in New York? Probably about 80 degrees farenheit. He kept muttering about killing people whilst in the backseat of my car, as we drove to the bar. However, we got to chatting that night, and it turned out he was actually rather personable and seemingly clever, so we made plans to hang out more. What followed was a three-week or so friendship, with the following highlights:

-He was constantly insinuating that he was a hitman. He'd get random phone calls in the middle of nights at the pub and have to "leave immediately" for "business." Turned out he was full of it, he confessed to our mutual friend that I made him so nervous he'd have to leave. I guess I'm just that hawt.

-He would take incredibly roundabout routes home, because he swore there were people following us.

-He told me he still had his v-plates at nearly 30. Confirmed by mutual friend.

-He told me he was taken under the wing of a Japanese scholar at some point, and had learned Japanese and some martial arts. When he met my mates who spoke Japanese, he became violent with them instead of just admitting he was a liar who didn't know Japanese. This made an utter mess of my birthday party.

-He drank like a fish, and had a job that required operation of heavy machinery.

-He would constantly point out women who were checking him out/wanted him. They were usually paying him no mind at all.

-He told me he used to deal with a biker gang, and was worried about being recognized. Actually, not.

-At the end of our friendship, he'd put his hand around the front of my neck when trying to make a point, as one would normally touch someone's arm or something. He'd also grab my arm really really hard. That was the end, but of course it couldn't end easily...

-Cue the horrible myspace poetry and the envelope of pictures he'd taken at my party taped to my front door, weeks later. He also left me creepy myspace comments, and his photo was of himself dressed like The Matrix as usual, holding a glass of wine in one hand, sort of raising a toast, and a gun in the other hand.

-Last I heard, he left my friend's house (where he was living and not paying my friend's mom rent, even tho he was supposed to) without warning, leaving only a note that said people were trying to get him, and that he had to leave to spare my friend's family from being in danger.

And there you have The Hitman.
(emgee, Wed 22 Mar 2006, 23:29, Reply)