tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8013019326509253882024-03-14T03:08:44.806-04:00Chosen...ishChoose Your Own AdventureUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-801301932650925388.post-80231757489280567532017-10-04T14:00:00.000-04:002017-10-04T16:28:08.418-04:00Chosen...ish - Choose Your Own Adventure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The first time I saw you, I knew you were going to be trouble. No. Wait. I meant, IN trouble. I knew you were going to be IN trouble. The piss-smelling bus creaked along the rainy rubble like streets avoiding the lake-sized pot-holes. You were getting off first, as you always did. I was a couple stops later, as I always was. Yeah, once I found you, I moved close enough so I could hear if you screamed in the night and I could come save you… or kill you… whichever needed to happen.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tonight was different. Tonight, a man stood at your bus stop in the rain. He didn’t take advantage of the bus system’s convenient half shelter. I reckon he thought he was cool with his long brown hair and thick frame. He looked like trouble, the kind of trouble, I needed you to stay away from.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I exited the bus from the back exit as you went out the front. He tried to say, “Excuse me,” but all that came out was “Ex-mfhmmum” as I put my hand over his mouth and my stiletto hilt-deep into his liver. You turned and I guided the cool guy into the alley before tossing him into the dumpster so you didn’t see. The clicking of your boots approached just as the thick plastic lid banged against the metal container.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Excuse me, miss,” you said.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I turned. “Yes?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Are you okay?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I brushed the hair out of my eyes. “Yeah. There was a guy, but I chased him off with my mace and the coward ran.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What’s in the dumpster?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Gum. I threw that away.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You know, gum is bad for you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I stepped towards you. “What do you mean?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> You stepped towards me. “Aspartame. It causes cancer.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I stepped towards you. “That’s a myth. There is no quantifiable evidence.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> You stepped towards me. “Touché. What’s your name?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Milly. Grimilda.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> You smiled. “Your parents didn’t like you as a baby, did they?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I shrugged. “My father died in a car accident before I was born. My mother died giving birth to me. The nuns. They didn’t like me.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What do you mean?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Grimilda means ‘witch’ in Old Norse.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> You grunted. “Ouch.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, so….” I curled my hair over my ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “So, my name is…,” and you told me your name.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I’m just gonna call you OLF. Organic Life Form.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Why?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “It’s an easy acronym to remember, in case I see you again.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We ride the same bus, we’ll see each other again.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Oh, you noticed?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “How could I not?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I blushed despite myself. “Well, thank you for checking up on me. I should get going.” I turned.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Your stop is this way,” you pointed down the street, away from the way I turned.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I spun on my heels. “How do you know that?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We ride the same bus. I noticed this is the first time you’ve gotten off the bus with me.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “The truth?” I offered.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Please.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I…,” I started. “I was trying to muster up the courage to ask you out.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yes.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yes, what?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I smiled. “Great! So… let’s exchange numbers and I’ll text you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> We exchanged numbers and parted ways. I check my messages. I have two, one message from Mauricio and one message from April. Mauricio probably just wants to stare at my tits while he tries to steer me away from my mission. April is my roommate and partner in my endeavor to stop the Chosen One (you) from becoming the Chosen One.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Should I see <a href="http://chosen-ish.blogspot.com/p/mauricio.html">Mauricio</a> or <a href="http://chosen-ish.blogspot.com/p/april.html">April</a>?</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com