Extra, Extra, Read All About It

Submitted by Walter:

Rachel's profile really surprised me and stood out from the crowd, so I wrote her a message.  She wrote back, sounding very grateful for the message, and asked me all about myself.

As for her, her pictures showed her with long, brown hair and a body that could crack a priest's celibacy (no, I don't mean that she had the body of a choir boy).  She was one of those, "she seems great... why is she single?" types, so I was a little cautious.

On our first date, we went out for dinner and then to a bar.  In person, she was a little chubbier than she had appeared in her photos, and her long hair was cut short and hot pink.

Neither of these really mattered, although it would have helped me to recognize her, at first.

A little while after we made it to the bar, her phone rang.  She excused herself to answer it.

When she returned, she said, "I forgot that I have to help my father with something.  Do you think we can head over to my parents' house real quick?"

Surely unusual, but no big deal.  We had driven separately, so I followed her to her folks' home.  It was a longer distance than she had originally let on, and at this point, I felt it prudent to end the date.  No hard feelings, and I'd be up for another one.

We parked beside a driveway in a wooded area, and she jogged over to my car.  She asked, "Would you mind waiting out here?  I shouldn't be too long."

I asked, "Why don't we call it a night?"

"I'll be just a sec.  Wait here," she said, already turning back to her car.  She drove it up the driveway and out of sight.

I waited about fifteen minutes before texting her, "I'm going to go.  Let's meet again sometime."

No reply.  I drove away.

I had made it to bed when her phone call came.  "Where are you?"

I said, "Home."  This was a little over an hour after she had left me beside the driveway. 

"Well, my dad needs help moving newspapers."

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I asked, "Is he black and white and read all over?"

"Can you help?"

"I'm at home.  In bed."

She snapped, "I heard you.  My father's old.  I wouldn't be asking if it there was any other way, but I just know he's going to throw his back out and hurt himself."

"Sorry."

"You want my father to die?  I said I needed your help."

I really wanted to be done with the conversation, so I said, "Tell your father not to move papers on his own after 10pm.  What do you want me to say?"

"Fuck you," she said, and hung up.

At 3am, I received a voicemail from her.  "My father's exhausted.  Thanks a lot, asshole."

At 5am, another voicemail:  "Asshole."