This doesn't actually belong here. This is a chapter from an entirely different story.

That story is not a story about interstate and international espionage. It is not a story about dead bodies in the freezer of the Mister Softee truck. It is not about a peacock that is really a turkey.

It is, in fact, a story about stalkings, harrasment, knives, sticks, and all of the other reasons that parents don't want their children to go away to University.

Sometime around January, I sorta got disillusioned with our friend Lorelei, and her struggle with Chet. It was mostly because I had real psychos of my own to contend with -- i didn't need any made-up ones.

I was being stalked by a creepy guy who lived in my dorm -- who, I later found out, read Sixty Percent Chance of Rain.

I was also getting a little tired of my Political Science major -- which, no one bothered to warn me, is more Social Work and Psychology than Politics.


At any rate, after a long semester, a little soul-searching, a change of major, and a change of screen name, I'm back.

And so, consequently, is Sixty Percent Chance of Rain.

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