“Kind of like a date?” Her face created a surprised look, like dates and kidnapping happened at the same rate. Her eyes changed instantly, but only lasting until the next blink. In that second she felt beautiful.

“Yes a date. You know the guy opening the door for you, then walking you to the door step for at least a hug.” This big, bad, robber just melted into a puddle of mush. The gun meant nothing to her. She saw right through my mask.

“I’m flattered. I really am, but I don’t even know what you look like.”

“True, but you might tell the cops what I look like.”

“You can’t go on a date with me by kidnapping me again and then eating dinner with me while still wearing the mask. I think some places have a no mask rule.”

My thumbs reach under the mask pulling it up over my face. I feel my hairs on my chin pull. I wish I shaved. Her eyes widen once she sees the scar on the tip of my nose. My bushy hair falls out of the ski mask. It feels freeing to not hold all sweat next to my small ears. For the first time our faces look at each other. She surprisingly shows no hatred. “So what do you think?”

“I know why you wear the mask now. You can’t rob someone looking so sweet.” These words make me blush.

“So you’ll go out with me?”

“Calm down, before I agree just tell me why you robbed the liquor store?”

“I needed to steal food for my baby to be.” Her face looks angry. Quick kill her.

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me out on a date and you have a baby on the way? To think I was going to go out with you. Hell I would have had sex with your right here. But, a baby! There is some pregnant woman with your child in her and now you want me to over look that.”

“Not over look it, just take it into consideration. I didn’t expect to ask you out. It just kind of happened. I knew I should have just had sex with you.” Shoot her and leave, we dug ourselves too deep in your smooth diarrhea like pick up lines to escape. I feel my heart slowing down to a normal rate. The ideas in my head no longer hold the loud presence.

“So you were just going to take me. You would have ripped my clothes off, spread my legs, have your way with me until you were sexually satisfied. I attract the worst guys. You are a thief slash potential rapist slash future deadbeat dad.”

“I would have asked if you wanted to have sex.”

“That’s great you’re a polite rapist, thief, deadbeat dad.”

This woman makes a lot of good points. My life needs an upgrade. That bump lasted longer than expected. “I’m not a deadbeat dad.”

“Yes you are and a scumbag, what a loser you are. I can’t meet anybody nice, all I meet are losers.”

This woman lost her mind, she completely forgot I about the gun in my hand. She talks to me like an idiot. I hate this idiot. The gun in my hand commands a little respect. Her angry face quickly diminishes once the gun presses against her temple. I see that she notices my scar on my nose stretched out over my flared out nostrils. “I’m not a deadbeat dad. Did your dad go out and rob a store to make sure you had enough food? Did your dad think about you every hour of every day? Did your dad listen to your mom’s belly every night hoping that the next President of the United States would pop out of your angry, abusive, mean mother’s twat?”

“No.” The tears quickly fall down her chin.

“Get out.” She opens the rusty squeaky door and hops out.

My foot pushes on the gas. I see her just standing there in my rearview mirror. Then I see the reason behind her standing there. My brake lights flash. Her head rises quickly, looking straight at me backing up towards her. For the last time, hopefully, our eyes meet. “You forgot this.” I pick up her purse to throw at her. It hits her in the face. Her reaction time needs improvement. She just stands there. I know she wants me to say something, I tell her the most important thing that pops into my head, “Don’t tell the cops about me please.”

I hope she listened. The ride home seemed quick, too quick to enjoy. Too much happened tonight. My shirt smells because the sweat soaked through. The door knob sits in the middle of the door and I need to find the key to enter my own heavenly torture of a life, but right before I turn the key to continue the downward drainage of the toilet I live in I turn to look at the sky one last time. The moon looks peaceful. The stars stay still, except one that shoots across the sky that I wish upon before calling it a night, “I just wish my life means something after the birth of my kid.”