Dear pervert...

Warning: language alert!

A while back, my daughter was stalked by a predator online. She got suspicious and we checked into his fake identity, at which time he disappeared. We figured he had just gone after easier prey, and kept an eye out, but we figured that he probably wouldn't be back. Unfortunately, he knew enough about us that if he had wanted to, he could have come back and made trouble. Recently, somebody has been checking up on us who may be the same guy. So here's an open letter to the lowlife:

You have made a mistake, fella. I have transcripts of your conversations with my daughter. I have traced your contacts from before, and although I don't know your real name yet, I will soon. I'm willing to bet you show up in a database in your home state. I'm a journalist; I find things out for a living.

This is a small town, and folks here know each other. Strangers stick out like a whore in church. I know most of the cops in town, and if you stick your verminous foot over the county line, they will find you. I rather hope they don't, though.

You may think you're stalking a teenage girl, but what you'll actually find here is (as the poet said), "Six foot three of Satan, two hundred pounds of hell." I am large, ugly, and mean, and I am not the least bit intimidated by a coward who hides behind a fake name and stalks girls. I have a gun, and I'm a pretty good shot with it, but I have no intention of shooting you if I can avoid it.

Instead, I will simply deal with you by hand, up close and personal. And what's more, I will enjoy it. I will revel in feeling bones crack, and organs rupture, and blood vessels burst. Every groan, every cry for mercy, will be music to my ears. I will beat you, and kick you, and stomp you, until you are barely recognizable as a living thing. And I will take great pleasure in every blow. By the time they come to take you to intensive care, you'll wish with all your slimy heart that you had gone to jail instead. And when you get out, I will still be here waiting.

My daughter is very precious to me, and no slavering, skulking, pud-pulling pussyhound is going to threaten her. If you make trouble for her in any way, I promise here and now that I will make your life nasty, brutish and short.

If you still think you want to hassle her, bring it on. I'm looking forward to it.

Any questions?