JENNIFER LEIGH SCHWERER was brutally killed last week in a table-turning attempt on the life of one Becky Drysdale. Here is Ms. Schwerer’s account:
Over the last week, I stalked Becky’s apartment a number of times with no luck. Today, I decided that I needed to get inside. I planned to wait until her improv class ended and then buzz her apartment, pretending to be a student who had forgotten something. I had a fake name picked out of a girl in the class and everything. So, I waited outside for about an hour, until I saw all of her students leave, and then buzzed up. After a pause, the doors unlocked. I hadn’t been expecting that. I figured I would have to talk my way in over the intercom. Wasn’t she curious who it was?
I hesitantly made my way up the steps, trying to figure out how I could get Becky to come out of her apartment into the hallway. Jesse was likely to be inside, so any kill that occurred there wouldn’t count. When I arrived at her door, I saw it was ajar. I pushed it open and was greeted by her dog. I’d never been in Becky’s apartment before, so I was trying to orient myself in the dark hallway and around the dog, when I realized there was a head peeking out from behind the door at the end of the entryway. ”Hey,” I said, trying to stall and come up with a story. But as I shifted, my coat opened enough to reveal the yellow gun on my hip. Immediately, darts began flying at me. It way Becky. She was tipped sideways behind the door, like a cartoon, so that all I could see was her head and her gun. I did my best to twist and dodge her shots in the narrow hallway, while pulling my weapon and aiming at the only place I could, her face. We both got off a few shots when it was decided that I had been hit. There were two witnesses behind Becky who confirmed it.
We chatted for a bit, had a laugh over what a fun shoot out it was, and I congratulated Becky on the kill. Then suddenly I realized, it wasn’t a kill at all. One of the witnesses behind Becky was Jesse and I couldn’t be killed in front of another assassin. But Becky and Jesse seemed unaware of this rule. After some debate, we agreed that it would be best if I emailed you a report of the kill, and you could determine the result. Satisfied with this decision, we said our cheerful goodbyes. I made my way down to the street and began walking toward UCB. Suddenly, I heard “Jennifer,” from behind me. I turned and got shot in the chest by a smiling Drysdale. ”Now it’s fair,” she said.
“That’s sooo mean,” I replied.
But what is an assassin if not mean? Never drop your guard.
Ah, yes, the ol’ kill-followed-by-potential-kill-invalidation-discussion-followed-by-kill-verdict-followed-by-on-the-street-kill. Works every time.
Ms. Schwerer, you proved yourself to be a worthy opponent, in evasion if not predation. You survived longer than most, and your last attempted strike was cunning. But not cunning enough.
And to the railyard hobos who have stumbled across this blog in their meandering search for a tin of baked beans or new harmonica reeds: if you need a roof over your head tonight, just buzz Becky Drysdale’s apartment. She’ll buzz you in, no questions asked.