"Im sorry Jen, I just don't feel like it tonight.  But if I change my mind I'll give you a call". 

 

     Jen begs and pleads with you to come....finally, seeing that it is having no impact, she begins to use her skill at guilting you into it . She starts with the numerous instances that she has been there for you, drawing on nearly every one she can recall.  Still having no luck, she throws a few friendly chides at you, regarding your inability to do anything spontanious and the fact that you are a dirty whore.   The two of you hang up and you lean back into your chair, smiling at Jen's convincing argument.

 

     Suddenly you are awoken by a silence shattering gunshot.  Jumping to your feet, your eyes dart around the room, searching frantically for the source of the deafening blast.  In front of you stands a disheveled blond, shakily holding a small calibre revolver and pointing it right at you.  The announcer continues, describing how after firing the gun 6 times, the jilted wife drags her husbands lifeless body to the closet and stuffs it inside.

      Sonofabitch!!  You are too pissed off by the rude awakening to appreciate the humor of the scene.  You flop back onto the couch and look at your watch.  11:30.  The street lamps cast an eerie glow on your cream colored curtains.  Outside the street is quiet, with the exception of the occassional  disruption by some teenager's 1986 piece of shit with a $1000 stereo system rattling through the neighborhood.  Just as your eyes begin to close again, your phone again vibrates loudly on the glass end table.  You grab the phone and hit the message icon.  It's Jen, you open the message.  On your screen, a picture of a spectacularly gorgeous man stares back at you.  He is holding a drink in one hand and motioning you with a finger on the other in a provocative invitation.  This is certainly not a man looking for a pity date!  He has tousseled sandy blond hair, reminiscent of some tanned surfer, and deep blue eyes that also look like they belong to the sea.  The caption reads, "Come out with us...I really want to meet you....wine glass....banana.....peach.......happy face"   You are fairly sure the emoticons are an afterthought added in by Jen.  You look again at the exquisite modelesque face staring back at you and contemplate accepting the invitation