Blind Date

My first time meeting Hank face to face was an accident. I met him anonymously online and we talked about what it was like to have the burden of humanity on our shoulders. I made jokes about my pet poodle and he explained that poodles make him sneeze. We decided to meet after realizing we both used the same brand of toothpaste and had attended the same summer camp and would forever be completely alone. When I got to the french restaurant, Hank was sitting on a workout bench the wait staff had brought in for him instead of a chair, wearing a red bow tie as we had arranged. The minute I saw him, I knew it was too late. He stood up suddenly and the table fell over. He popped a bubble on his chest with his fist. "That's her!" he said, and Mr. Flup rushed to his side. I got out my pack of cigarettes and lit four at once. I held two in each hand, ready to defend myself. Mr. Flup clumsily put on his cape, curled himself into a little ball and rolled towards me. I jumped out of the way and he crashed into the dessert tray. Hank began stomping towards me, baring his teeth. He sneezed. I thrust my cigarettes into his paws and the smell of burning plastic made the people in the restaurant scream. Just as Hank lifted his heavy leg to swing a kick, Mr. Flup rolled into me from behind and I tripped and fell on my back. I distracted Hank by blowing smoke rings in his face as I crawled to the safety of the dark street, where two of my admirers were waiting in a limo. I left the restaurant without receiving flowers or kisses. When I looked at the bruises in the mirror at home, all I could think about was holding Hank's smoldering hand in mine.

Good people of my city, please help me. I need a sidekick to protect me. Send your resume to cigaretteburngirl@gmail.com