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the return of naked guy
Dear Naked Guy: Last night I was reading in bed when I heard this odd sound outside my window. I turned out the light and lifted my blind. The pathway was dark, but there was no mistaking: Naked Guy, you were out there. And you were staring into my neighbour Melissa's bedroom. And mastrubating.

I called the police. Then I got my neighbour Sarah. The cops were there within seconds. But you were nowhere in sight. We looked outside. When we peered into Melissa's window, it became apparent she was in a loving situation with her boyfriend. With the window open. So *that* was what you were wanking off to. It was so surreal.

It was at that point that I looked down and realised that I had put on my loud, floral 70's housedress in the dark. Only I had put it on inside out. I looked like an outpatient. As I spoke to the officers in my kitchen, I noticed my nerve magazine with a saucy cover, my rolling papers on the table, the empty bottles of wine, and the general dissaray of my apartment. And to tell you the truth, I started to feel like the weirdo in the situation.

Naked Guy, if you are reading this, we are all freaks in some way or another, but could you please limit your naked wanking ways to your own house? I don't know if you are violent, but you certainly scared the shit out of me. Please stop it.

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