Sep 12, 2007

Girls—Hang on to Your Eggs—Because Somebody Wants Them!

NOTE: Below is a work of fiction. I repeat—the story below IS NOT TRUE. I wrote it as a spoof of those stupid e-mail chain scam letters with dire fictional warnings about heinous crimes—that might happen to anyone. Those insidious missives that show up in our In-boxes and spark paranoia and alarm. I wrote this as an exercise—to attempt to dissect what makes those scary stories so scary—and I found out while writing it. It's because they play on our REAL fears—our prejudices—and our weaknesses. Plus, such stories have to be somewhat believable—as well as outrageous. So tell me, did I accomplish that? Please, please—DO NOT BELIEVE what is written below—it is purely a work of fiction! Thank you. Tumerica.


PLEASE, PLEASE do NOT THROW THIS E-MAIL AWAY! This could happen to you—or to any woman you know! Ladies, we have to get the truth out. This is so scary, my hands are shaking as I write about it. But I want you to know—and for you tell all your girlfriends and sisters—and anyone who knows women—to be EXTRA CAREFUL to avoid this DANGEROUS scam. It could happen to any woman at any time—and that includes you and me!

You are not going to believe this. I wouldn't have either if someone had only told me about it. But because it happened to my cousin—and because I know her—and what she's been through because of it—I just have to let you know. Please, please—DO NOT let this happen to you!

A few weeks ago, my cousin Heather had a long day of shopping at our local mall. She was just getting into her car, juggling her packages and her purse and the car keys—you know how that is. So here she was busy with her hands, when all of a sudden there's this voice behind her left shoulder. It's a woman, she turns around to see, a small and friendly looking woman of Asian ancestry—maybe Chinese? Anyway, the woman is holding the hand of a young boy—who is maybe two years old. The woman asks Heather in broken English how to get to the mall. Well, Heather thinks that the stupidest question—she's in the mall parking lot after all, but she figures since the woman is foreign that she may not know. Plus she has a young kid with her—so she's obviously a mother, and having a hard time—the boy is tugging and acting impatient—like he's going to cry. Well, Heather decides to be polite—as she was raised—and starts to explain. She sees the woman looking puzzled, like she can't understand her English very well. Meanwhile, the little boy is crying full-on now, so Heather starts gesturing. The woman tilts her head and smiles uncomprehendingly, and gestures for Heather to follow her—while she points to a white van parked a few cars away. There are a couple of Asian-looking men in the van—and they are waving through the windows in a friendly and harmless-looking way. So Heather—against her better judgment—seeing the worried look on the mother's face and thinking about what it would be like to be in a foreign country and have a hard time getting around—walks over to the van. She thinks maybe someone there will understand English better.

That's the last thing she remembers before waking up pain. She's in her own car—and she wakes up in shock and outrage—then remembers the pain in her lower right side that doubles her over—and the white van—and the mother and her child. What happened to me? She looks around, the panic giving way to something like stark terror. She finds her purse—everything is intact—she sees the packages from her shopping trip—all right where she put them. But how did she get back in her car? And why does her side hurt so much? And WHAT HAPPENED? And why is it FOUR HOURS later and getting dark?

Heather drives herself straight to the emergency room—she's still almost doubled over in pain. She checks her side—there's no mark—no clue as to what happened. Only the pain. The doctor in the emergency room checks her over thoroughly—giving her a gynecological exam—which Heather thinks is weird. What does gynecology have to do with the pain in my side, she wonders. Then the doctor shakes his head and with great sympathy explains. Heather has had EGGS removed from her right ovary. Yes—her own eggs. Somehow, the people in the van must have rendered her unconscious, performed the operation—delicately removing her eggs. They must have had medical equipment in the van—to be able to do such an operation—and to preserve the delicate eggs. It turned out that Heather was fine—physically—she had cramps for a couple of days and that was all. BUT SHE HAD BEEN VIOLATED—in the most extreme way anyone could violate a woman—by stealing her future children.

No one knows what happened to the people in that van. Although Heather reported it to the police, they had little to go on and the hopes of finding—and catching—the perpetrators is slim. So DON'T let this happen to you!!!! If you are near a place and someone asks you for directions to it, BE SUSPICIOUS! Be cautious. If you must give directions to them, get inside your car and lock the door. Roll up the window until there is ONLY a little space at the top—and then give directions. If they do not understand, simply wave and drive away from the area as quickly as possible. Heather believes that because the person asking for directions was a woman—and especially because she had a young child in tow—that it played on her sympathies as a woman. She had felt sorry for them—and that's just how they got her. SO DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!

Please—pass this along to everyone you know. The lives you save could be your own future children!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sandra G. Dorsen
47 Kensington Way
Lakewood, NC 28282

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