When Prophets Date

Story Submitted by Jon:

Stacy contacted me online and had a lot to say.  Of particular interest was her emphasis on spirituality.  She mentioned in a message, "I think we'd be spiritually compatible, based on what I've read."

Intrigued, I asked her about it, and she said that it appeared as though we had a lot of things in common and that she could explain it better in person.  She said, "A lot of it I've come up with on my own, but it brings me closer to spiritual fulfillment."  I like to think that I have an open mind, so I planned to ask her about it once we were together.

I didn't have to wait long.  We picked a Friday evening and met up.  On a walk before dinner, I asked her about her spirituality and she said, "I worship a prophet who doesn't even know that he's a prophet.  Still, several signs pointed to his birth.  He's an Aries, has visited five continents, is 25, can read four languages, and went to college in Pennsylvania."

Oddly, someone came to mind who fit her description: me.  I laughed and said, "That's me.  I'm a prophet.  Zap!" and I made as if to shoot a bolt of lightning out of my hands.

She said, "I know.  That's why I wanted to meet you.  I've known about those criteria for years, before we even met."

I smiled, certain that she was having me on.  "You received a sign, telling you that your prophet went to college in Pennsylvania?"

She nodded.  I asked, "Was the thing that gave you that sign called 'the Internet'?"

She said, "No.  An angel appeared to me in a vision.  She told me everything and that I had to find him and worship him."

"Very original.  I appreciate it.  Thanks," I said, a little nervous, but still certain that she was only kidding.  Then, she curtsied to me and said, "I'm at your service."

Nip this in the bud, I thought, and so I said, "Okay.  Give me a blow job, right here, right now."

Her hands went right for my pants zipper, and she unzipped it before I stepped away, surprised and alarmed that she would have even gone that far.  I zipped myself back up and said, "Okay, cut it out."

She said, "I know it's hard to believe, but this actually happened to me, and you fit the description.  I can't believe that I found you," and she reached for my face.

I stepped away.  "Stacy, this has gone far enough.  Everything you said about me could be found on the Internet.  Can we just have a regular date?"

She curtsied again.  "If that is your desire."

I thought for a moment, then came up with a plan.  I told her, "I desire that you go to a convenience store and buy me all of the Combos that they have in stock.  I'll be waiting here."

She curtsied again, then walked off.  Half of me expected her to not return, while the other half expected that she'd return with some excuse for not having bought them.

What I did not expect was for her to return 20 minutes later with four plastic bags filled with Combos.  That's when I knew that something definitely wasn't right with her.  I said, "Stacy, I think you need help."

"We all need help.  That's why you're here."

I said, "Stacy, I'm not a prophet.  Let's return these Combos and get your money back."

She led me back to the store where she had bought them, and I carried them the way there.  The store manager said, "No refunds" about a dozen times before I was able to convince him that my "sister" was mentally ill and that it wasn't her fault that she had just went and bought out his stock of Combos.  He took them back, gave Stacy her money, then kicked us out of the store.

After we were outside, I told her to go home and to not contact me until she heard from me.  She curtsied, gave me an awkward hug, and left.  I haven't contacted her from that day to this, but not a day goes by wherein I don't wonder if she's still collecting information on me, online.  Hopefully, it was just a weird phase.