Later, the rapist posts a picture of his dinner captioned “famous family stuffed bell peppers yum,” and the woman debates whether or not that counts as a selfie. She prepares her own batch of stuffed bell peppers per the instructions of a recipe rated five stars by numerous reviewers, but hers taste like a bunch of turds roasted inside a vegetable. That evening, she has horrible diarrhea, for which she blames the rapist. Her sister’s diapered toddler laughs at her from an ornate frame as she strains over the bowl. It occurs to her that her sister’s baby would be a good addition to the BABYOK campaign. The woman sleeps in her sister’s bed and eats her sister’s condiments and drives her sister’s electric car in Palo Alto while her sister and her husband and baby live abroad in a socialist paradise, and the woman should be grateful, but her sister sends texts like, The baby is with the government-subsidized nanny while we lie on the beach and drink and have uninterrupted sex in the Maldives. Have we received any important mail?

Instead of cleaning, she puts the remaining peppers and dirty dishes on the deck for the mountain lion. The Mountain View mountain lion has been the talk of the Valley. Hungry and lonely, the big cat descended from its natural hunting grounds high upon the Santa Cruz Mountains in search of food and friendship. It was spotted in full view of the dewy-eyed software engineers traveling in from San Francisco aboard the world’s most popular search engine’s shuttle bus. It was spotted digging through garbage at the farmers’ market. The woman also swears she saw it stalking her sister’s eerily quiet electric car during her commute, as if it were her spirit animal, a claim that was met with relentless coworker mockery. For its efforts, the mountain lion has been awarded its own social media accounts, where it posts snarky industry gossip; a buggy game where it wanders around mauling investors; and a crowdfunding campaign for kitty treats.

Satisfyingly, the peppers have disappeared when she wakes up in the a.m. and checks the deck. Disappeared isn’t quite accurate; the peppers have been ransacked, pots and pans overturned, grains of rice scattered as if by a kegger wedding. Though she realizes the culprit could be a rowdy squirrel or posse of raccoons, the woman feels validated—until, that is, she’s edging out of the driveway and the neighborhood hooligans body-slam the trunk of her sister’s silent, deadly electric car. The neighbor kids have had a vendetta against the woman ever since she nearly killed one of their own. She was turning into their street just as the kid did a trick on his skateboard, wiped out, and escaped with his life by the thinnest of hoodie strings as she ran over and wrecked the board. Now they shout obscenities and throw objects in her direction, and the woman is too concerned for her safety to attend any block parties or barbecues. Still, it’s nice to see kids bullying physically. She thought kids these days only bothered with cyberbullying.