Slap Happy

Story Sent in by Ellda:

Rob and I met online. He lived about 45 minutes away from me, which was around the outer limits of my usual dating radius. However, his first message was charming and funny, and I thought that he'd make a good acquaintance, if nothing else.

For our first date, he offered to come out to my neck of the woods, and although I had told him that I'd be happy to meet him halfway, he insisted. It worked for me.

The problems began about an hour before we were due to meet up. He called me to say, "I'm leaving now!"

I replied, "Okay, I'll meet you downtown at seven."

Five minutes later, he called and said, "Now I'm in my car and I'm pulling onto the highway."

I replied, "Thanks for the update. I'll see you there."

Five minutes later, he called back: "Hey! I'm on the highway now, and I just passed Taylorville."

"And?"

"And I'll soon be passing Mitchell."

I said, "You don't have to keep me posted on your progress. I'll just meet you there and we can–"

"But I must!" he said, then hung up.

Five minutes later, he called back and said, "I'm just through Mitchell, now. Have you ever realized how many trees there are in Mitchell?"

"No."

"Mitchell's packed solid with trees! Where do the people even live? There are just too many trees here."

"Rob, I'm getting ready, so I'll see you there."

As I readied, he called me three more times. Each message was progressively creepier: "I'm getting closer to you. I can't wait!" "I'm halfway there. My gut's just itching to meet you." "I'll be there soon. I don't know if there's much you can do about it, now."

I arrived at the restaurant a little bit early. It was still light out, and the plan was to take a walk after our early dinner. The time for our meeting came and went, and he didn't show. I thought about calling him, but I figured that since he was so diligent about reaching out to me throughout the past hour, if there was anything to worry about, he'd let me know.

Finally, a waiter came up to me and asked if I wanted anything. I ordered a soda, then realized something with a start: the waiter was Rob. He was dressed in a waiter's outfit, and grinned down at me, wide-eyed and exposing most of his teeth.

There was that first flash of recognition, and then he stuck his fingers into my face and wiggled them. "Raaaaaagh!" he said, and I pulled away from him.

"Rob," I said, "You work here? What the hell is going on?"

He sat down across from me and said, "I don't work here. I just put this on to fool you. So I'm here, you're here, and my hunger is very, very here. You want a soda, let's get you a soda. It'll dissolve your insides into a soft paste. Mmmm."

My heart was still backflipping, and not in a pleasant way. He kept that maniacal grin on his face, and better judgement overcame politeness and I said, "I'm going to go."

I stood up. He stood with me and said, "You're just leaving? It took me 45 minutes to get here!"

"I know. You kept reminding me."

"I should slap you."

"Try it."

"Oh my God!" he said, "You actually want me to do it? I was just kidding! I said, 'I should slap you,' not, 'I'm going to slap you.'"

I replied, "Well, I'm going to go. Excuse me."

As I hurried past him, he said, "Maybe I should slap you."

I tore back to my car, and drove away from that wack job.