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So you gave in to the yearning. No big deal, everybody does it sometimes. Everybody who’s weak, that is.
You call Trish and she answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Trish, it’s me…or, uh, I don’t know if you remember my voice, but…”
“I’ll be at your house in five minutes.”
You’re surprised because last you heard she lived in Toledo now, but she hangs up before you can get any answers. It’s all a little fishy, but you’re blinded by that yearning we talked about earlier.
You tidy up your place a little bit and light some cinnamon-scented candles for ambiance before she arrives. She’s more attractive than you remembered; it appears she’s had a laser removal of the “twin-fucking whore” tattoo you applied to her face while she was sleeping. Good for her.
You sit down at your kitchen table and try to ease the tension with some small talk. All you can think about is the crossword puzzle that’s glaring you in the face.
“Hey, this is dumb, but help me think of a four-letter word for ‘move along on foot’ that fits into sixteen down.”
“I’m no good at those, but I’ll try. Let me see it.” She leans over your shoulder, analyzing the puzzle, and for a second you feel her warm breath on the back of your neck. Oh, the yearning. Before this can turn into a Choose Your Own XXXcursion, you feel a sharp prick in your neck. You’d know that feeling anywhere—it’s a syringe.
“Jesus! What the hell!” you shout. “I told you I’m off the smack now!”
“It’s not smack,” she says. “It’s a sedative, and it’s for your own good. Also, nobody calls it smack any more.”
It all makes sense now… The new phone number, the lack of a tattoo, the Ohio… You realize all too late that the woman standing in front of you is not Trish, but a trained assassin disguised as Trish.
“But…why?” you ask, gasping for breath.
“I was hired by your twin brother to finish you off so he and Trish could be together without having to worry about the weird mind-reading stuff,” she says, peeling off a latex Trish mask to reveal a stone-cold face that resembles Angelina Jolie’s, but isn’t Angelina Jolie’s for copyright reasons. “And it’s too bad, because I was really starting to like you.”
As your vision fades, you take a last look at the crossword you’ll never finish.
“Oh, the word you’re looking for is ‘file,’” she says as she mercilessly demolishes your skull with a subatomic machine gun.
Your excursion ends here.
2 years ago • Notes