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"He Monica Lewinsky-ed all on my gown"

Yes, you thought right. No, not that the creature in front of me did any Monica-faunica or Lewinsky-gewinsky on my gown. Well not a gown really, but a modest band shirt from the cheapest thrift shop. Tough competition though.

I don't even know what that girl's name means, but heck I know it should not be said in front of strict Asian or Hispanic parents in layman's words.

On second thought weren't dogs supposed to be loyal and dutiful, and definitely not attack you with a gun in broad daylight? Well that creature should not be called a dog. It's a curse for all dog-kind. How dare it?

On third thought, it cannot have such good qualities because

A) it's not a dog and B) I am blind.

I realise this as it blinks for a good two seconds at me and much of the ketchup on its forehead trickles down to his bushy cupid's bow. It's a man! It's just a short man dressed in black who can easily be mistaken for a big black dog. A compliment, not an insult I assure you! I recheck this as I look on the same spot of the street where I saw that dog and still see it lic- leave it. That dog's deed is better off unmentioned.

It's a man! It's a man! Not a crazy dog who thought of attacking me to have a taste of the delicious extra ketchup sandwich. Well I saw it for the first time in this area, or else I would have shared. Hey, I am not a bad person, just a decent one with mild trust issues.

I shouldn't have been rejoicing so much, as the man does not like me still swaying to Beyonce. He steps forward, fuming, and puts the butt of the revolver on the centre of my forehead, I must applaud him. Because my forehead is quite large and thus it's commendable of him to locate the exact epicentre of it. Good mathematician, I like him.

Although I don't think he reciprocates the feeling as he says in clear loud voice, "you are going to follow me without making a single noise."

"Take all of me

I just want to be the girl you like, girl you like"

Now's the time to shut the lemonade up Beyonce!

To be honest, I was never good with taking orders. Ah sweet memories of my terrific childhood! Though of course I'd reconsider that quality as the man's short fingers are just millimetres away from the trigger. However that seems very impossible as the ketchup still drips down his dirty hair and trickles inside his ear. It must tickle! I'm sorry but I'd laugh if he wasn't seconds away from blowing my head off.

"Take anything you want from here, I'll say I was in the washroom", I mutter with my eyes still drawn to his fingers on the trigger.

"Don't want any of that gassy stuff. Just you", he says back.

He forgot to say 'no pun intended'. It would have been funnier because he is standing in a gas station. Haha-

-wait did he say he wants me?

Slowly as if the words are indicated to a toddler, I say, "I respect each one's choices and decisions but I should give you a disclaimer that you might feel a little bit of complex in the long run"

The man who had the audacity of getting a girl through the power of a gun, whom I should hate but can't due to the same power, looks confused and frowns taking the gun away and scratching his hair with it. However before I take a sigh of relief he puts it back to where it was and glances me up and down with an expression of disgust and says, "There's no way I'd do that."


"I've got orders from above to take you to them. Now move!"

Well, well, well I have no other source of entertainment in my life, so I follow him out of the shop looking for any way to escape the nuzzle of his gun. He is quick to notice me looking at the occupied shelf with a thinking expression as he puts his heavy arm on my ribs from behind and picks me up with his other hand holding the gun to my head as if to blow my brains off, carrying me out of the shop.

I have never been good with being held back tightly, one that chokes me that I use the only power I can rely on at a time like this.

As soon as he takes a single step forward, I open my mouth and scream. You might think now he would place his hand on my mouth and I would take the opportunity to bite off his fingers but that's an old move.

Any compliment I have gotten till this date is that I have a high pitched scream. Well, it's octaves and decibels higher than an average girl of my age. So, it's pretty loud. Loud enough for the goon to instantly drop me on the ground and shield his ears with his palms. This gives me enough time to make a run for my life but he somehow overcomes the impact of my scream and takes my hand and pushes me on the ground pointing his gun at me again.

Ok, Rose, last chance. I use another weapon this time. Not really, it's kinda the same. I scream the loudest I can ruining his hand to brain co-ordination making him fire dangerously close to my left bicep.

So I scream louder as I see a red stain covering my t-shirt there, making him retreat a few steps backwards collide unknowingly with a lamppost and falling to his hands and knees.

For the Last move, I put my hand inside my bra to take out my trusted handy pepper spray and spray it on his eyes before he moves his hand to take the fallen pistol by stepping on his hand. He screams in agony. Ha! Treats him right! He thought I was unapproachable and he also had the audacity to take me to god-knows where and do god-knows what!

Rejoicing again I nod my head to Fray.

Stupid of me not to see a cloth quickly cover my mouth and nose.

"When I'm losing my control,

The city spins around

You're the only one who knows,

You slow it down"

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