BANG!  BANG!  BANG!

 

     You are violently jolted awake by a loud gunshot!  You leap to your feet and your eyes dart around the room, searching for the source of the explosive blast.  In front of you stands a wild-eyed woman with blond hair in a frayed and tangled mess.  She is shakily holding a small calibre pistol and pointing it right at you.  Her lip quivers uncontrollably, completely overcome with rage and adrenaline.  

 

     The announcer continues his monologue, explaining how after emptying the clip, she dragged her lifeless husband to the closet, stuffing him into the corner and then putting the dresser against the door.  As if his bloodied body, riddled with bullets, might resurrect and come after her again.  Sonofabitch you say out loud, wiping the sweat from your brow.  You are too rattled by the rude awakening to see the humor in the situation.  You flop back down in the overstuffed chair and look at your phone for the time.  11:30.  The street lamps outside are casting an eerie glow on your cream colored curtains.  Outside the streets are quiet, with the exception of the occassional drive-by by some teenager driving a 1990 piece of shit with a thousand dollar sound system.  You suddenly feel very alone, sitting there in the dark.  You toss your phone back on the coffee table, it slides across the smooth glass and stops short from the edge,  

 

"I can't believe he didn't call me...or text me....or something!" You say outloud. 

 

     You pull your knees up on the couch and cross your arms over them  You can't imagine what you could have done wrong.  Everything seemed perfect!  You were sure that the two of you hit it off.  The more you think about it, the more anger begins to rise up into your chest.  Just another player, and you're just another one of his conquests.  He probably has plans with someone else tonight,