Posts: 1 Location: Norfolk Island Joined: 31.07.10
Posted on 31-07-2010 03:22
About 5 years ago I received a message on MySpace. It was a decent looking red head that lived in my area. We shared a few similar interests, and we got to chatting. She was going to school for creative writing, had a decent sense of humor, was into some of the dorky shit I was into. Seemed like a catch.
A jazz club had just opened up in the city we lived in, so I ask her if she’d like to go check it out with me. She sounded pretty excited about the idea.
Friday rolled around, and I called her as I got off work to confirm plans. She asked if her friend could go. She said she had never met anyone online and was nervous. I found this completely understandable, so I said it was okay. I drove a pick-up truck at the time, so I let her know that I likely wouldn’t have room for 3 people. I asked if she or her friend could drive. She told me neither of them owned a car. I thought this was a little weird, but whatever, maybe they take the bus. I don’t know.
Instead of stuffing into my truck, we decided on pizza and a couple movies instead.
I went to Blockbuster and called her up, asking what she’d like to see. After I went down the new release list she picked a couple out. I paid and asked for directions to her apartment. She said she was pretty terrible with directions. Her friend would help me out.
She gave me the worst directions I’ve ever heard. I drove around for a bit attempting to find it on my own. No luck. I called back and she gave me even worse directions.
I called back again a little bit later after still not finding my way. More bad directions. Is this bitch retarded?
I called back once more and she tried to help again. There was something about her voice. It did sound a little….retarded.
I finally find the place and knock on the door. Her friend answered the door.
She was retarded.
Well, okay, I can respect having a friend like that. It shows you’re a good person and all that. Her friend informed me that Rachel would be out in a few minutes.
After those few minutes, she came down the hallway. She had an awful limp. She had palsy. She didn’t tell me.
Fuck.
She offers me pizza, but I decline, as I’ve lost any appetite I had. I toss in the movie. I can’t remember what it was. It was a generic serial killer horror movie. The retarded girl is enjoying her Domino’s. I’m on the couch with Rachel trying to keep things from being too awkward.
In the movie, the blonde girl is masturbating. Through the window, a truck pulls up. The serial killer steps out.
The retarded girl turns to us with the biggest smile on her face. Cheese and other assorted bits of pizza were falling from her mouth onto the floor. I’ll never forget the words out of her mouth.
‘HE HAD BETTER COME BACK I’M GOING TO GET OFF OR DIE TRYING’
I stared in horror as she laughed her ass off, spraying pizza across the room. I half-heartedly offered a bit of a pity laugh, while Rachel sat there mortified.
The retarded girl then told me I smelled good.
The movie was finally over. We didn’t start the other movie, as it was midnight and I had claimed I had to work in the morning. I asked if she could return the movies and she agreed.
I gave Rachel a hug, hopped in my truck, and bolted. I went home and smoked a huge joint.
