Don't Masquerade With the Girl In Shades

I wear my sunglasses at night. Some people might think this is due to pretension, but it’s really so I don’t have to deal with any unwanted eye contact from deluded young men.

I won’t stop believing, but unfortunately they don’t seem to get the hint.

“Can I buy you a drink?â€?

The guy that slithers up next to me is obviously not aware that I prefer my own private Idaho.

“Don’t drink,â€? I say. “Or smoke. So don’t ask.â€?

“Geez, don’t drink, don’t smoke. What do you do?â€? he asks. I feign deafness. What can I say? I enjoy the silence.

“Well, we can dance if we want to. Leave your friends behind,â€? he says with a smarmy smile. I looked over at the empty bar stool on the other side of me. So that’s what friends are for.

“I’d rather be dancing with myself.”

“That’s okay. You spin me like a record, baby. Put on your red shoes and dance the blues.”

“It’s close to midnight and something evil’s lurking in the dark,â€? I say, leaving. I know he’ll follow. What mere mortal can resist the evil of the thriller?

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