Sometimes I feel like this actually happens…

And then the worlds gets screwed over. The end.



(Fictional story I thought up just now)

The sun had set and nighttime fell upon us and there I was on my way home until I bumped into this strange individual whose name was Ramoa. This was the first time ever having met this man. He was persuading the children who had stayed up too late to return home and head straight to bed.

“Isn’t a little late for children to play outside? Head on back home! Hurry now! Children time is over. Nighttime is grown-up time.”

I gazed at this man and seeing him gently speaking to the children in a playful manner brought a grin to my face. I knew these kids and there was no way they would fall for the charms of a sweet-talking adult. No, they were too mischeivous and they can’t be swayed easily. They are kind that would require bribery or the face of a worn-out mother. If all else fails and patience has been pushed to limits it is then threats would be used.

This man, however, refuse to change his tone and seemed to have all the patience in the world. Eventually the kids gave up and allowed themselves to be dragged home. It was then he caught me staring. I felt slightly embarrased about us making eye contact. Maybe I shouldn’t have stared for too long, it’s rude after all. I was about to walk away and head home but he approached me as if to talk.

“Good riddence”, he sighed, “I thought they’d never leave! They’re cute but I wish they wouldn’t be too over-excited.”

As the man got closer, I got a better look at his face. Sort of. It was still kind of dark and his hair covered half his face but I managed to get a glimpse of his nose, eyes, mouth, the basic face shape. I felt like I would recognize this man the next time I saw him.

“I’m heading to the bathhouse. Care to join?”

I just met this man and suddenly he’s inviting me to the baths! At first I wanted to refuse but after a few convincing words from him complimenting the baths in the area I found it hard to refuse. We headed to the well-known bathhouse and, to my surprise, it was almost empty.

“They’re closing up soon, that’s why nobody’s around. But I’m sure they’ll let us stay for at least half an hour longer. Join me!”

I followed him to a counter where he spoke to the lady. I didn’t come here often but he, on the other hand, seemed like a regular. The lady seemed to recognize him and they both gleefully chattered away. He turned to me and asked what kind of smells I liked. I just shrugged, and tried to think of one from the top of my head. He wasn’t satisfied with my attempt to come up with a description of a scent so he made me sniff a jar.

“You mean like this?”

“Whoa! Uh, that’s too strong!”

“It gets diluted in the water so the smell weakens. Still no? Shame. That was my favorite. Oh, how about that? It’s a good one!”

“Such impeccable taste, as usual!”, squealed the girl behind the counter.

“Alright then, my dear, we’ll be using these bath salts and I will be purchasing a jar of that. Okay, sweetie?”

“Got it, but when you said ‘we’…”

“Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. He’s just a colleague. A co-worker. Nothing more. Seriously!”

We headed to one of the private tubs (well, all are technically private now, but whatever) and he proceeded to strip down. I, however, felt uncomfortable so I just stood there.

“Are you just going to stand around? After I invited you?”

I wanted to say how uncomfortable I felt, that I wanted to know the true meaning of this invitation. We had just met, after all. But for some reason I chose to keep quiet. I unbuckled all three of my belts (people say I wear a lot of belts. I don’t get why. I really don’t) and pulled down my pants then looked back to see if he was gawking at me. He wasn’t. He was too busy enjoying himself. I took off everything then stepped into the bath. The bath salt smelt so intoxicatingly good and, after dipping a foot in the water, the heat made every muscle in my body relax. I sighted as I slowly let my body sink. I turned to the man next to me.

“Oh, and for the record, I don’t swing that way. I just accepted the invitation because it was the polite thing to do”, I reminded him.

“Who said anything about swinging any which-a-way? I was having a hectic day today and needed to blow off steam and since I have lots of work to do in the morning, I couldn’t get drunk and pass out so I came here. And I felt it was better I found someone to vent to. Or at least talk about what I enjoy.”

He really did seem glum after saying that.

“So, what do you like?”, I asked.

“Baths, aromatherapy, cute animals. Guns”, he replied.

“That’s neat- whoa! Wait, guns?!”

He nodded.

“Love ’em. And the smell of gunpowder.”

“Aromatherapy and the smell of gunpowder, huh? You’re a pretty odd guy.”

“So, I’ve been told. By the way, I haven’t asked your name.”

“Benzo”, I said, extending a hand.

“Ramoa”, he replied, shaking it.

We chatted for a while and then decide it was time to head for home.

“I had a great time! Can’t wait ’til we do this again next time!”, I said.

“I had fun too!”, he chirped, “We should totally do this again! Well, later, hon, and take care on your way back home, dear.”

“…did you just call me ‘hon’?”

“Oh, he calls everyone ‘hon’. It’s just him”, said the girl we met at the counter.

And that was the start of a very odd friendship, I suppose.