Jessica Samuels' Pulp Fiction writing contest entry.

Chef Russell Jackson - The inspiration for this writing contest

Pulp Fiction Writing Contest Entry:
 

Done. Another shift at the restaurant SubCulture Dining finished. Still the uneasy feeling followed me from this morning. Not right still. I don’t know why it could be a crazy fan or an ex that wanted fame and is now stalking me for it. Who knows? At this point I had to get home to my apartment to rest for tomorrow. I get to my home in record time, and take off my pin Chef  Russell Jackson. That’s my name. I have a mohawk, brown eyes and hair with tattoos and a muscled body. I wear a chef coat most of the time since I’m working most of the time. I have a successful career, and I was the third runner up on The Next Food Network Star. I even battled Chef Jose Garces in Iron Chef America. I have been through a lot, and people still recognize me on the streets. Too bad I didn’t win because I would have loved to have my show on Food Network. That’s probably why I feel like someone is following me. It might be a fan wanting my autograph, but they didn’t need to stalk me to get my attention. Not at all…I get dressed in pajamas and then sit on the couch in the living room. Watching television after a shift relaxes me, and I have a nice cold beer too. Still the feeling that I was not alone continued and continued too. I get up and check all through out the house I lived in. San Francisco is where I lived, and I consider it a home. It does offer some crazy people living there though, and I wondered if it was the new waitress we hired:  Cindy Adams. She was staring at me the entire time she was working there. Never taking her eyes off me. It might be her due to the way she was looking at me. I wonder…I search the entire house, and then find a note under my pillow of all places: I’m watching you. It said written in red ink. The feeling I had was right someone is following me. It could always be the ex as well. I met Tara Smith a few years ago, and things were good till she cheated on me and then I ended it. Still the letters kept coming and then she started following me everywhere. She even tried to kill one of the girls I was dating at the time. I put a restraining order on her, and then I thought that was the end of that I was wrong. It could be her, and then I might have to use the emergency gun in the drawer under the light in my bed.

 Maybe, I hope not cause this is getting really infuriating. I’m successful get over it you stupid, money, hungry bitch. She just used me for my money and status, and not really serious. I’ll just have to see, and it could be anyone who wanted to scare me. Forget calling the cops cause they don’t do shit. I’ll just have to wait this out, and then I’ll know. I went to bed saying fuck it. Whoever it is can kill me or hurt me later. I needed to get up for another shift. I go to sleep convinced they just want to scare me at the moment, and instead of it being restful it leads me to having nightmares about my stalker. I wake up tired from lack of sleep, and my alarm wakes me up. I dress and get ready for another day the stalker still invading my mind. I can’t wait till it’s over, and then I can be at peace. Finally, and be rid of her for good if it is her, and I make my way to the restaurant. It is a fun experience for diners, and my baby. The thought makes me sick that just one stalker can ruin it all. I put it out of my head, and continue to the restaurant. I make it there just in time, and they are already getting things prepped. I get my official store coat, and that’s when I see the note: I’m Watching You. Another person is messing with me, and it’s all I can think about. I can’t think of anything else. I tell my coworker I feel sick, and I see Cindy smiling at me. A very evil look, and then I know it’s her. It’s her all the way I can tell it, and I get pissed.

I go up to her. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

She nodded and followed me to my office.

I closed the door.

“This stalking me has to stop, and I have enough on my plate without you trying to ruin it.”

She frowned, “But I thought it would be funny since you have a crazy ex too. I had one like yours, and I did all my research on you too.”

“But I don’t find it funny and that is cause for a restraining order, so just stop it.”

“Okay, I’ll stop it…”

And that is the end of that since I never saw a note again. That my friends is how you deal with crazy stalkers. Not to kill them but talk to them. I go home that night, and find myself noteless. The talking really did work, and sometimes it’s better to give a warning versus murder them. I never did see her after that, and business as usual continued…

The end…