By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
By Charles Lam
Illustration by Bob AulHey, you, with your fake boobs and your five-seasons-ago cowboy hat! How dare you come into my shop using a stolen credit card, pretending to be a Newport yuppie? I knew from your lack of class and your fake Louis Vuitton that you could never understand what it's like to own your own small business. Being ripped off by half-wits like yourself is the real reason Wal-Mart and Starbucks are making a fortune, and small "mom and pop" shops are losing their dreams and savings accounts.
Not this time. This Nancy Drew is on the case. And since our fine LBPD is so busy writing parking tickets, I thought I might opt out of the weeklong paperwork investigation and go find you. You see, I was paying attention when you babbled endlessly about your hotel massages and facials. And since your disguise was so well-thought-out, when I called the valet department of your hotel to put out a suspect description, they found it easy (and fun, I might add) to watch out for a blond bimbo with fake boobs and a cowboy hat.
You know, it took me just two phone calls, three friends in the valet and six minutes to drive over there and call the cops to have you arrested. You tried to run; I ran faster. You changed your name; I had your room number. You couldn't talk, walk or fuck your way out of this situation. I found it fun to be escorted into your hotel room to identify all my merchandise as well as the $25,000 from my friends' stores. Whatever stripper pole you slid in on was not enough to rip off this girl.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at Letters@ocweekly.com.