The Jonah Chronicles: It Was A Dark and Jonah Night
She turned feeling eyes on her back. She had never known such intensity. Their were many guys staring at them, well what do you expect, a beautiful blond, a fiery redhead, and a sparkly brunette. But one of those guys stood out in particular.
She looked over the cafe, twisting slightly in her seat, trying to find out who it was that was looking at her, so intensely that she could feel it without even looking… almost luring her to… she didn’t know what.
She finally found him, and stared, her usual evil glare, and indifferent stature diminishing entirely. He was about 5′ 7″, scruffy brown hair, little piggy eyes, garbed in Dockers and a black Billy Joel River of Dreams tour t-shirt that was bunched up around his man-boobs.
It seemed like hours ago that she had just been laughing with her friends about such trivial topics as which store to shop at, and what losers men were. But here was a real one, staring at her as he sucked the gristle off of his 34th Buffalo wing.
His eyes caught hers; she was under his spell completely and found that she could not look away. It was like a terrible car accident except that there were no cars and it wasn’t really an accident, but that terrible part still applied. She heard her friends calling her name in the background, asking if she was ok. They stopped when they saw him walking over to their table in the back of the dark cafe, stopping briefly to unwedge his too tight mini-briefs from his butt.
She had always liked the dark, thrived in it, and now she knew why, for that man coming toward her was surely darkness himself. And if we wasn’t darkness, then he was definitely dim. ‘Close enough’, she mused.
A chill went up her spine when he took her hand, it was so cold, and greasy from the wings. She noticed his ring had a deathhead with cubic zirconium eyes and something clicked in her mind. He was a graduate of Goucher College, the most evil of all the liberal arts colleges in Maryland.
Silently she followed him out, her friend staring after her as if in a trance, but she didn’t notice. She did notice the trailing banner of toilet paper that boldly waved from the elastic waistband of his pants, but she chalked that up to part of his charm
He brought her to a house just down the block, and carried her inside, down into a candlelit chamber underground which was really just a basement with a sprung couch, a washer, a dryer, and an old pachinko machine. He led her to the couch which was the color of a bowl of milk laden with Trix that’s been sitting out all day. He brought her a gown, black and gauzy, almost see through, and she slowly stripped off her cloths and donned the dress. “It’s my mom’s”, he muttered, and a she felt a tremor of excitement, or maybe it was queasiness, ripple through her body. He walked towards her and settled onto the couch, something dark and ominous in his hand.
It was then that she she glanced around the room and she saw something hidden in the shadows. It was long and black, old with time, worn, and yet still as beautiful as the day it had been crafted. It was a TV.
Trembling now, she saw the dark stranger unbutton the top button of his pants and slide his right hand into them, his thumb hooked over the gratefully relieved elastic waistband. His other hand rose and she saw, to her horror, that it was a remote. The TV flickered to life and she heard the ominous grind of a VCR. On the screen appeared the words:
Star Trek Voyager: Season Five.
She screamed into the darkness…