The Peeping Tom

by Connie Vigil Platt


The television newscaster was talking about a county fair showing a Ferris wheel in the background when he switched in mid-sentence to announce that a Peeping Tom had been seen in residential neighborhoods.

“All women — no, everybody — should be on the alert to watch for this low-life. He has been seen sneaking around looking in windows. Seven houses have been broken into and all of the women were alone at the time.

“When he is sure a woman is alone, he will break in and tie her up with her own pantyhose. He then goes through her closet, looking for evening wear, which he tries on and dances around mimicking a rock star. Please be on the lookout for this perpetrator.

“There has been a run on pet stores for guard dogs due to these incidents. The owner of Pets Inc. says, ‘I can’t get enough dogs to meet the demand’.

“Women out there, be prepared to protect yourself. You don’t want or need to be the next victim. Please, please hide your pantyhose. Now good night and be careful.”

The newscaster wiped his face.

Melanie was listening intently when she heard a blood-curdling scream and than a loud bang coming from the bathroom. There was only one thing that made that kind of thump. That was definitely the sound of a body falling.

Melanie jumped from the couch where she had been lying comfortably wrapped in a blanket, untangled her legs from the coverlet and ran to the next room. Her roommate of two years, Brandi, had gone to take a long luxurious bubble bath.

Brandi ran out of the room with a towel wrapped around her dripping body, and bumped into Melanie causing them both to slip on the wet floor and fall in a heap in the hall.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Melanie asked when she could get herself straightened out.

“I saw him! I think I killed him, I didn’t know he would be so big.” Brandi sobbed.

“Saw Him? Did you see the Peeping Tom?”

“Peeping Tom? Is that what you call him? Look in there!” Brandi pointed to the white tile floor, as green liquid oozed across the floor.

“Oh my gosh! You’ve knocked his head off. Brandi! You’re a stone cold killer! He’s big, too.” Melanie was completely amazed.

“Well I didn’t mean to. What do you want me to do: sew it back on?”

“Brandi what a ghoul you are. That would be out of the question.”

“What are we going to do?” Brandi asked.

“Not we, my dear. You. You’re going to have to get rid of the what's left of him. I don’t want anything to do with it.” Melanie told her.

“I can’t. He has such hairy legs. What will we tell people?” Brandi shuddered.

“We don’t have to tell them anything if you’ll get rid of him. Nobody has to know. It isn’t as if he’s a little green man from outer space you know.”

“How do you know? This kind of creature might live in space. You don’t know.” Brandi took a step toward the open door.

“Be careful you don’t step on broken glass. You don’t want to go to the emergency room and explain how you cut your foot, do you?” Melanie told her.

There was the sound of a siren in the distance, getting closer.

“Did you call the police?” Brandi asked.

“No, but we’d better get dressed and see to your make-up. The photographers will be right behind.”

Brandi shivered and reached for a tissue. “I certainly don’t want anyone to know we have cockroaches this big.” She said as she flushed the remains down the drain.

The next night as both girls sat on the couch to watch television, the newscaster announced, “The local police have made known that the Peeping Tom has been apprehended. He was found wearing a silver lamé gown slit to the thigh. He claimed that he was watching outside a bathroom window when he overheard two women talking about knocking an intruder’s head off and then reattaching it.

“He was so scared that he slipped on his four-inch heels and fell. He decided it was too dangerous to keep on peeking in windows. He is seeking help for his problem. He said he didn’t want to get his head detached from his body, even if they were going to sew it back on.”


Copyright © 2007 by Connie Vigil Platt

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