Katilock

It seems absurd, looking at someone? Where’s the harm, right?

Well, it turns out it’s so that the law has recourse against people who just stand in a public space and start through someone’s living room window. For weeks.

Just randomly chasing somebody, even without intent to actually harm, is legally assault. It’s not harmless, it’s months or even years of therapy and paranoia against ever going outside your home, if you even think your home is still safe.

“We’re fixing up this spaceship that belongs to our new friend Meap.”

“Meap, he’s the most adorable thing in the world.”

“Really? Are you sure there’s nothing, or no one that’s more adorable?“

“No, not a chance.”

“Okay. I jury-rigged Ferb’s old GPS device, to create a cute tracker.”

“It locks on to the cutest thing in the area,”

“so it should lead us right to Meap.”

“Let’s see if we can get a signal.“

“Got something!”

“Oh, that’s probably me. Sorry.”

“No. It’s three miles in that direction.”

“Isabella, want to come with me and help me find Meap?“

“Sure!”

“I still haven’t gotten my”

“‘you wouldn’t know cute if it bit your legs off’“

“accomplishment badge.”

“Cool!”

“Let’s go!”

“Hmm, I’m having trouble picking up his cute signal.”

“Phineas, since you obviously won’t figure this out on your own,“

“I think I’m the one causing the cute interference.“

“Don’t be silly Isabella.”

“I took into account your cuteness, and adjusted the cute-meter settings accordingly from the beginning.”

“See, look what happens when I change it back to normal.”

Bonus Depiction Of Me Right Now:

“So, do I know romance or what?”

“what.”

“I said, do I know romance or-”

“So that’s Uncle Phineas and Ferb as kids?“

“That’s right.”

“And that girl looks like Aunt Isabella.“

“Did you hear that? Aunt Isabella!”

“That means I’m gonna marry Phineas!”

“Or Ferb.”

*clicks tongue*

In fact, you shouldn’t HAVE to ask. A data scientist doing their JOB will provide that information UP FRONT. How the random sample was taken, who was polled, and what demographics were potentially left out of the poll.

anyway i go in to see paul one week in the summer of 2016, and i’m doing my usual bullshit which consists of me talking shit about myself, and paul is staring at me, and then he cuts me off and says that he’s got a new tool for helping people recognize when they’re using negative language, and gets up and goes over to his desk

and i’m like alright hit me with that sweet sweet self-help article my man, because i’m a linguistic learner and whenever paul’s like here i have a tool for you to use it’s pretty much always an article or a book or something

paul opens a drawer, takes something out, and turns back around. i stare.

i say, paul.

is that a nerf gun.

yeah, says paul.

i say, are you gonna shoot me with a nerf gun in this professional setting.

he happily informs me that that’s really up to me, isn’t it. and sits back down. and gestures, like, go ahead, what were you saying?

and i squint suspiciously and start back up about how i’m having too much anxiety to leave the house to run errands, like it was a miracle to even get here, like i’ve forgone getting groceries for the past week and that’s so stupid, what a stupid issue, i’m an idiot, how could i–

a foam dart hits me in the leg.

i go, hey! because my therapist just shot me in the leg. paul blinks at me placidly and raises an eyebrow. i squint again.

i say, slowly, it’s– not a stupid issue, i’m not stupid, but it’s frustrating me and i don’t want it to be a problem i’m having.

no dart this time. okay. sweet.

so the rest of the hour passes with me intermittently getting nailed with tiny foam darts and then swearing and then fixing my language and, wouldn’t you know it, i start liking myself a little more by the end of the session, which is mildly infuriating because paul can tell and he’s very smug about it 

ℨ𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔱