Blog: Stay On Guard! The Chubby Creeper Is On The Loose
(originally written 8/23/17)
Everything you're about to read is true, verified before or shortly after the "incidents" took place. The four women in this story do not know each other. They are of differing ages, sizes, social classes. They have nothing in common at all...or at least, they used to have nothing in common at all.
Until mid-August 2017, when "The Chubby Creeper" crossed their paths...
August 17, 2017
"Hilda" is a homeless woman in her 60's. She has been without a home since 2009, the year her husband died of cirrhosis of the liver. Despite her situation, she maintains an upbeat disposition, a bright smile, and surprisingly, no discernible odors. Hilda solemnly speaks of the grandchildren she's never met—they reside in another state, out of touch, out of reach. Hilda somewhat prefers it this way. "They don't need to see me like this," she says, sagely.
In a dream world, she'd have the funds to go see them; that way, her homelessness remains a secret. But when you have to try sweet-talking the local bus driver into waiving the $1.75 fare just to get across town, as Hilda was about to do, securing transportation to another state is obviously a fantasy.
Hilda sought a phone store to charge her Samsung, wanting—needing—to hear a friendly voice on the other end. Worn by growing old on the streets, all she could manage was a slow amble to the bus stop. Still, her journey was almost complete; only a few yards stood between Hilda and the bus stop when it happened.
Subsequent investigation logged the time of the Chubby Creeper's strike at 9:37 a.m. Hilda never saw or heard him fast approaching over her right shoulder. It troubled Hilda how a man his size carrying bags of goods could sneak up on her—a vagrant whose guard is usually up—with literally no detection. But he did. And now she must pick up the pieces.
August 18, 2017
"Florence" is a neighbor of the Chubby Creeper, though not an immediate one. She's a quiet, disabled woman of about 60, and owner of two schizophrenic Yorkies who freak out whenever a sound is made by anything but themselves. The Creeper openly loathes them, but no one involved believes that played any role in the events of August 18.
At least, no one wants to believe he'd punish a senior for such an "infraction" in such a childish way.
With her live-in relatives indisposed, trash-dumping duty fell to Florence that afternoon. As she struggled down the short-but-steep staircase leading to the shared dumpster, she failed to make any notice of the tall, wide figure fast approaching from her right—all her focus was on navigating the stairs without her unsteady legs giving out.
She had nearly pulled it off. The dumpster stood 10 feet away. Florence had one last step to conquer...ONE...when he struck.
The Chubby Creeper had claimed another victim. Same M.O. as the previous one, similar victim description. Oh, he claimed he had no intention of scaring Florence, who by sheer will managed to stay upright. The Creeper even offered to assist her with the clearly heavy bag of trash. Pride would never allow her to accept help from most people anyway, but she certainly would not accept help from an individual who so methodically, so temperately just tried to kill her.
August 18, 2017
Florence wouldn't be the Chubby Creeper's sole victim on that Friday.
21-year-old Grace is a bright, talented and beautiful college student who spends her spare time with her new boyfriend "Roy" or serving as a part-time babysitter to her little sister. Friday afternoon was all hers, and she and Roy eagerly anticipated some fun in the sun. Roy met her at home that day, and the young couple soon set to depart. It was going to be a great day—no work stress, no school stress, a day entirely free of anything other than excitement and happiness.
Or so they thought.
"OOOOHHHOOOOOOOOOO MY GOD!!!!!!"
Breaking from his pattern of elderly, barely ambulatory black women, the Chubby Creeper had now branched out to Generation Y. When young Grace had opened the door to leave, the Creeper stood on the other side, seemingly lying in wait for her.
What we did not tell you about Grace: that little sister of hers is the Chubby Creeper's daughter, and he's known to regularly stop by—but almost always with notice. Today, he claimed he just wanted to drop something off, and the scare was a result of some very unfortunate timing.
Grace wanted to believe him—the two have always gotten along in the past; he'd have no reason to want her to need an ambulance—but out of all 86,400 seconds in a given day, how could he just accidentally show up at the one second she opened her door?
A few minutes later, Grace regained her composure and left with Roy. Passing The Creeper on the way out, no accusations were made. But it's safe to assume these two were not out past sundown.
August 19, 2017
"Brandi" has worked at the North Bay Athletic Association for a while now, serving in a variety of non-coaching roles. On this night, "Movie Night" at the NBAA, she was set to serve as snack bar attendant from 6pm to 9pm. These nights are usually uneventful; Brandi's most stressful August 19 task was filling up 20 small trays with popcorn.
Given the ease (doldrums) of her duties, one could easily understand someone disappearing into their own little world during lulls in the action. Besides, as a pretty blonde in her 30's, she was the polar opposite of the first two Chubby Creeper victims, and dissimilar from the third as well—surely, she had nothing to fear from some overweight freak terrorizing the public.
With the kids occupied by their film and their appetites temporarily satiated, Brandi did what we all do when time needs killing—perched at the bar window and dived right into her phone. Whether it was an app, text exchange, social media, or other that held her attention, one thing is clear—this woman was immersed. So immersed, in fact, it took three full seconds in his shadow to realize she was the Chubby Creeper's latest victim.
Better than the others, Brandi played off just how badly the Creeper had "gotten" her—at least vocally. But physically, she might as well have jumped through the ceiling. The Creeper, with enough audacity to fill the gym, actually informed Brandi he'd been scaring women frequently lately, and she'd be going in his recount blog.
Though laughing on the outside, Brandi secretly wished for the Creeper to order something she could spit in—a tray of popcorn, slice of pizza, etc. But perhaps sensing this, all he asked for was information.
The Chubby Creeper has never been caught—mostly because he broke no laws and no one is trying to catch him.
Because of this, you must stay on alert. Do not take too much comfort in not meeting any of the physical descriptions of the people he's previously targeted—tastes change. Do not assume you're safe because the sun is out—the Creeper struck three times in broad daylight. Do not assume you're safe in your own home—look at what happened to Grace.
Basically, do not assume you won't be next. The Chubby Creeper moves very quietly—some say he mastered this tactic to steal food off other people's plates—and because of his out-of-control facial hair, he can often blend in with shrubbery and foliage.
If you spot him, do NOT attempt to subdue him. Instead, do attempt to distract him with food, preferably ribs from Everett & Jones Barbeque in Berkeley, CA. They've got a Smoked Pork Ribs lunch deal for $10.25. Go with that.
(Just to be clear, yes, I am the Chubby Creeper and no, I did NOT scare those women on purpose.)