and then she stabbed me, but ever so sweetly.
For me, the sensation of a 6 inch piece of steel plunging into my flesh, was at least initially ... well ... unremarkable. In retrospect, I would have imagined more of a "AHHHHHHH SHIT!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" sort of moment. I mean, every movie and television show I've ever seen with a person being stabbed and bleeding to death has resulted in the victim screaming bloody murder. Screaming "bloody murder", would of course be an appropriate response to being murdered quite bloodily. In the very least, the situation would warrant a loud shout of distress or perhaps at a minimum, an alarmed, yet polite request: "please mam, would you kindly remove the cutting implement from my body with all due haste?"
Sadly, I lacked a commensurate response for the occasion. My initial thought was more of a: "Well...that's a unique feeling." The excruciating pain and profuse bleeding would very quickly follow, but before that, in a brief moment of clarity, I somehow realized that this sort of conclusion to the evening was very much inevitable.
I first saw her at the bar. I'm not sure what she was dressed as, but it looked to be one of those typical Halloween costumes for women over the age of 18. That is, it looked like some skanked out variant of a very mundane occupation. Like sexy librarian, or sexy cop. I'm somewhat amused by those costumes as I'd challenge a costume maker to come up with a skanky mummy or a voluptuous refrigerator costume. With those goggles sitting on her head and that frilly white dress and corset, maybe she was a sexy-dress-wearing-aviator? a sexy, but severely astigmatic duchess? whatever it was, her costume was definitely sexy.
As for me, I went all out this October. I bought $120 worth of glowing necklaces. The checkout clerk at Target asked me if I was throwing a rave and I was somewhat taken aback that a 15 year old even knew what a rave was. But I impressed him by telling him that I was creating a Tron costume. At this, I felt somewhat offended: Did this upstart yahoo dare to share or even appropriate childhood memories and pop culture references which were rightfully my generations'? Usually when this happens, I revert to my precanned tirade that starts with the high, reliable, die-cast-metal quality of transformer toys in the 1980's and ends with expensive, complex, and low reliability video game hardware of the 21st century. Since making my own glow in the dark Tron costume this year was fairly time consuming, I decided otherwise.
I was quite the hit at the party ... with guys my age. At least a dozen guys complimented me on my Tron costume. But every girl I tried to hit on thought I was either a Star Wars character or an inordinately safety conscious bicyclist at night. That all changed when I saw her. She was stunning.
She approached me. She brought me the first drink. She suggested we go into the hidden room. In a retro themed club packed with over 200 party goers, I wasn't even aware there was a hidden room. I was a mess of lips, hands, and tongue. Normally I can hold my liquor, but with my drunken reflexes, making out with me was more like being greeted after a long work day by your Labrador Retriever. I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but I think I licked her nose. I was about to apologize, but decided not to, since I don't know ... maybe a crazy girls like this has a nose fetish or something. Her kisses were soft and gentle, with what I would realize as a deliberate finality to them. She removed my helmet and ran her hands through my hair. She looked deeply into my eyes. If I had better awareness, I may have even caught the tear in her eye.
With things going this well, I decided to go in for the kill. I went to go remove her bra. Now I've removed quite a few bras in my time, but in my state, undoing those two metal hooks were like dealing with two B cups attached at the base by a rubik's cube. Her affinity for rube goldberg night wear was to the extent that after I removed it, I wanted the president of the United States to put a gold medal around my neck and sing the national anthem with me. When I released the metal hooks, I looked down at her perfect body. And then she stabbed me, but ever so sweetly.
For me, the sensation of a 6 inch piece of steel plunging into my flesh, was at least initially ... well ... unremarkable. In retrospect, I would have imagined more of a "AHHHHHHH SHIT!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" sort of moment. I mean, every movie and television show I've ever seen with a person being stabbed and bleeding to death has resulted in the victim screaming bloody murder. Screaming "bloody murder", would of course be an appropriate response to being murdered quite bloodily. In the very least, the situation would warrant a loud shout of distress or perhaps at a minimum, an alarmed, yet polite request: "please mam, would you kindly remove the cutting implement from my body with all due haste?"
Sadly, I lacked a commensurate response for the occasion. My initial thought was more of a: "Well...that's a unique feeling." The excruciating pain and profuse bleeding would very quickly follow, but before that, in a brief moment of clarity, I somehow realized that this sort of conclusion to the evening was very much inevitable.
I first saw her at the bar. I'm not sure what she was dressed as, but it looked to be one of those typical Halloween costumes for women over the age of 18. That is, it looked like some skanked out variant of a very mundane occupation. Like sexy librarian, or sexy cop. I'm somewhat amused by those costumes as I'd challenge a costume maker to come up with a skanky mummy or a voluptuous refrigerator costume. With those goggles sitting on her head and that frilly white dress and corset, maybe she was a sexy-dress-wearing-aviator? a sexy, but severely astigmatic duchess? whatever it was, her costume was definitely sexy.
As for me, I went all out this October. I bought $120 worth of glowing necklaces. The checkout clerk at Target asked me if I was throwing a rave and I was somewhat taken aback that a 15 year old even knew what a rave was. But I impressed him by telling him that I was creating a Tron costume. At this, I felt somewhat offended: Did this upstart yahoo dare to share or even appropriate childhood memories and pop culture references which were rightfully my generations'? Usually when this happens, I revert to my precanned tirade that starts with the high, reliable, die-cast-metal quality of transformer toys in the 1980's and ends with expensive, complex, and low reliability video game hardware of the 21st century. Since making my own glow in the dark Tron costume this year was fairly time consuming, I decided otherwise.
I was quite the hit at the party ... with guys my age. At least a dozen guys complimented me on my Tron costume. But every girl I tried to hit on thought I was either a Star Wars character or an inordinately safety conscious bicyclist at night. That all changed when I saw her. She was stunning.
She approached me. She brought me the first drink. She suggested we go into the hidden room. In a retro themed club packed with over 200 party goers, I wasn't even aware there was a hidden room. I was a mess of lips, hands, and tongue. Normally I can hold my liquor, but with my drunken reflexes, making out with me was more like being greeted after a long work day by your Labrador Retriever. I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but I think I licked her nose. I was about to apologize, but decided not to, since I don't know ... maybe a crazy girls like this has a nose fetish or something. Her kisses were soft and gentle, with what I would realize as a deliberate finality to them. She removed my helmet and ran her hands through my hair. She looked deeply into my eyes. If I had better awareness, I may have even caught the tear in her eye.
With things going this well, I decided to go in for the kill. I went to go remove her bra. Now I've removed quite a few bras in my time, but in my state, undoing those two metal hooks were like dealing with two B cups attached at the base by a rubik's cube. Her affinity for rube goldberg night wear was to the extent that after I removed it, I wanted the president of the United States to put a gold medal around my neck and sing the national anthem with me. When I released the metal hooks, I looked down at her perfect body. And then she stabbed me, but ever so sweetly.
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