Posted 28 November 2011 - 04:12 PM
Since everyone else is sharing their pedophile stories, I suppose I should share mine. My family and I lived in Rhode Island when I was younger, and there was an elderly man that lived next door.
I'll never forget the things Herbert said to me, nor will I forget the voice he used when saying them. He had such an effeminate, high-pitch voice that whistled when he talked. And he always looked the same: his frail old body adorned with a light blue bath robe, half his head covered in gray hair as he hobbled down the street with his walker and dog, Jesse.
I accidentally threw a baseball through his window once, and he punished me by making me do chores while he watched with delight. He later took me out for a fancy restaurant – of course, I didn’t know what was going on at the time and never told my parents.
Then there was that time, at my family’s garage sale, that Herbert asked if I was selling any of my clothes. Remember, this is an old man. Not knowing any better, I told him I had a pair of shorts. In that high-pitched, creepy voice of his, he replied back: “Sweet Jesus!”
When I had a paper route, he would wait for me every day to say lude things, like “You’re startin’ to piss me off, you piggly son of a bitch – call me!”
He even tried to lure me into his home with popsicles once.