Dominique+and+Tom

Kay...Dominique's Story:

**An exciting Blind Date!**
I was sitting all by my lonesome at Red Lobster waiting on another blind date my sister set me up on. My sister has awful taste in guys. Last time she set me up on a blind date I had a horrendous time. The guy she set me up with was super ugly and super cheap. He decided to take me on a date to McDonald's. Who does that? I could pay for my own Happy Meal if I really wanted one! Plus, he didn't drive so I was actually taking him on a date instead of the other way around! I wasn't expecting this date to be any different. All of a sudden this tall, clean-cut piece of caramel confidently strides over to me. He looked as if he was floating on air. I was paralyzed with amazement. He proceeded to ask me if my name was Dominique in a deep luscious voice. I had to pause for a second. Between all of the astonishment I had forgotten who I was. He then asked again and I replied yes. I then stood up to return the hug that he reached out for. The scent of his cologne and the warmth of his arms made me melt.

Tom's Story:

A Miserable Blind Date

I was a criminal with his noose, I was a soldier in the line of fire, I was a rate in a snake's hole. I was opening my personal Pandora’s Box. This vendetta that only a god could compromise was in my eyes, the extermination of all things me.

My body was constricted, frozen, and inanimate. I felt all of my atoms perched at the ends of my shaken skin, vibrating as if chilled, but static with their shivers. My belly felt churned and swayed. The fear enveloped my insides, scrapping against the interior of my skin. My eyes were my sole communication with the world as my body fallen paralyzed and isolated from the environment, my mind, and circumstance. My eyes darted into my Chick Norris of nightmares, my symbolic casket. The Gorilla Swamp. Home of over one thousand of the fiercest primates in the proximity of man, of me.

I’ll explain, so understand that this isn’t some attempt at suicide, but that is normal to assume. No, this is a deliberate destination of a chance at love, a common practice. A blind date was my strategy to manipulate some one into the sack after presenting a false self to the prey. My lies were the bait and the bed the snare. After the hunt and feast were over, I’d casually evaporate from another pawn’s life. This situation, of course, is not a blind date to the likes of me. This was mission impossible, a random pairing in the gorilla’s domain of the Congo. A blind date is not the description you’d assign this situation, this is 1981 and I was playing Donkey Kong! I was a pixilated Italian jumping obstacles being tossed by a gorilla, and my goal was an invisible face with no name.

My eyes scanned the gorilla infested field when my radar went off at the location of a shapely figure at a small table for two. This character was old fashioned and mastered a stiff back. She wore elegant, flowing fabrics of hues from the blues to purples, a short run on the rainbow. Her vision was diverted from my existence. So I only examined a portrait of her back. She was perched on an old aluminum stool with a worn, teal leather cap. The table that her majesty placed herself at was an aluminum folding poker table. Rust climbed the kitchen set like vines on a wall. Dazed and forgetful of the gorilla army, my body loosened and my legs mechanically stalked an imaginary path to the hostest. Once in the clearing of the swamps field, the sun poured down on me like raging waves of fire, but my legs kept a parallel pace to each other. My profile consumed the aged table set and my prey, and my eyes cast down on her shoulders. Sweat oozed down from every entrance into my skin, glazing my body in a sticky, coet layer of musk. My shattered voice was about to spit a favored pick-up line when the woman’s body started to twist in my direction. It was either my shadow’s intrusion or the cocoon of body odor that gave myself away. My sight tightened to the faces predicted destination and waited a century for a face to reveal itself. The gorillas were still absent from my train of thought, as my thoughts were at a standstill on the suspense of my quarry. When the face met my visuals, my eyes sensed a disturbance and jolted under her jaw. My radar detected a significant characteristic and my eyes confirmed my instict. An adams apple the size of Mount Everest protruded from the neck, joined by a canopy of stubble on the jaw. I processed this discovery, my mind put two and two together.

“It’s a trap!”, my lungs burst into alarm, gathering the attention of the black, furry manifestations of rage. My teeth cringed with disapproval and disgust, which amounted to pulling the trigger of a .44 magnum that interacted with my hair by its barrel. The teeth displayed a red flag to the gorillas, and it was as if King Kong himself tore into me.

I went to my layer alive, but minus a foot, most of my face, and genitalia.