I just got a Loehmann’s postcard at work. Scribbled on the back is “E—we haven’t seen you in a few days. Wussamatta, you mad at us? The Gang at Loehmann’s.”
I was temporaily gobsmacked by this, as I have never set foot in a Loehmann’s in my life—then I noticed it was addressed to me c/o “Hugh Herbert Weekly magazine.” It’s postmarked NY and I can’t recognize the handwriting-could be any one of my wise-ass friends.
Sorry. I live in NY, but I’m a dumb-ass. 
So what’s wrong with Loehmann’s? I LOVE Loehmann’s! There’s no dressing rooms, so women have to crouch down behind the clothes racks to try things on. There’s no TELLING what you might come across as you stroll through the store. Yep, Loehmann’s is the best.
Was it YOU? If so, you have handwriting eerily like my late father’s . . .
[sub]Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve…come heeeeeeeere…join me…on the dark side…[/sub]
Wait, hold on, you were already here when I showed up.
Oh, come on you’ve yanked my chain till it was disconnected and the chain-repair people told me they wouldn’t even replace it till I stopped talking to you—was it you or not?
. . . If you WERE my dead father, it would explain a LOT . . .
Nope, not me. I swear. If I wanted to buttonhole you, I wouldn’t send no cheap postcard. I’d come right to your office, in an appropriate disguise to confound your co-workers and protectors.
It was probably Alphagene. Or delphica. Or Billdo. Or SuaSponte. Or Biggirl. Or **Cajun Man.
Now now, Ukulele Ike, there are ways of telling if someone is a prankster…
Bring out the duck! We shall use my largest scales!
Well, it was postmarked from NY and is from someone who knows who Hugh Herbert was, so that considerably narrows down the field . . . Unless some perv from Loehmann’s really IS stalking me . . .
Okay, Pucette, then.
And we’re ALL perverts at Loehmann’s. See above post.
Loehmann’s, indeed. I think you need to find a better class of stalker, Eve.