Last night I returned to my personalspace to find a note pinned to my door by a throwing knife.
If you Value your immortal Soul be at the Obscene Prophet tomorrow at 10:45 (a.m.).
Come Alone and unArmed.
If I didn't know it by now the agitated scrawl in red crayon told me I was dealing with a lunatic. I would have to be careful.
Five minutes later the Personalspace Facility Manager was banging on the door. She was furious--in a perky and enthusiastic manner of course--about the very noticeable hole in the woodlike.
"Either report this incident of vandalism to the Courtesy Rangers or pay for the repairs," she demanded.
I told her I had unthinkingly contaminated the evidence by removing the knife from the door but I would mention the incident to Ranger Diode the next time he dropped by to harass me. I said that I would be sure to mention her name. Then I told her I would gladly pay for repairs if in fact repairs were ever done. I even offered to pay extra if the repairs were done competently.
In a perky and enthusiastic manner she suggested that I go fuck myself.