Submitted for your approval, this is the story of a young man no different than you or I. In fact, apart from his stunning good looks, incredible intelligence, and somewhat unhealthy fixation on arachnids, he is as normal as anyone. He comes home from his normal job to check his mail like he normally does. He takes the bundle of envelopes and heads back his normal apartment little realizing that he has just picked up a credit card application…
…from the Twilight Zone.
I'll say one thing for the universe. For all of its capriciousness and cruelty, it sure has a twisted sense of humor. Guess what incredible curve ball I got this time? Go ahead and guess.
Jeez, it's not THAT bad. Get your damn head out of the gutter.
Allow me to give you a little bit of background. I was not always an embittered, cynical person. Heck, for the first two weeks I was innocent and optimistic. Dealing with the largely subhuman peers of my hometown quickly disabused me of any delusion that people are basically nice and kind entities who are just looking for an excuse to do good. The only good those bastards would ever do is as fertilizer after they're dead.
But I still had some hope. After all, I had yet to get a girlfriend. That changed when I was 18, when I got hooked up with some oversexed underage human I refer to as my Psycho-ex. I successfully protected my virtue from that lunatic. Then I was slyly seduced by a friend of 7 years who ended up literally being a schizophrenic superbitch. I call her my schizo-ex.
Then came the worst one. I'll give the quick version for those who know the story: we talked, we screwed, I went to graduate school, and she got knocked up by some druggy, violent, petty criminal high school dropout, and I she never gave me the privilege of ditching me. The upshot of all this is that that is the only time in my life I've ever seriously considered marrying a chick. No, I didn't even consider marrying Carmen Electra. She was just a little too wild for me.
I was lucky, I guess. God help me, I could have ended up like my PARENTS. Sure, I can be the MVP Monday morning quarterback for winning the Hindsight Bowl today, but back then I could have easily envisioned myself as marrying that chick. I know in retrospect what a fool for love I was. She gave more warning signs than Mt. Vesuvius, but I was a total sucker for her sweet-talk. Heck, I was like one of those authority figures in a monster movie who is in denial about Godzilla tearing toward the city until he can smell the reptile's athlete's foot. Her name was Alison, although I refer to her as my Ex-girlfriend-turned-evil-backstabbing-'ho.
So there I was, going through my mail like I do any other day. Then I saw it. It was a credit card application, but that was hardly a surprise. When you have credit as awesome as mine, everybody wants to give you money. It was the name on it. It was addressed to Alison Hall. Hall, of course, is my surname.
What the heck? Did this slip through some alternate dimension? Did I get too drunk some night and REALLY marry her and neither of us remembered? Is it some sick joke? Those of a lesser mind would claim that it is fate insisting that my destiny lies with her, my One True Love. Ugh. Just the thought of that makes me want to puke.
The universe was sending a message alright. It was reminding that it hates me and that I had better stay on my toes.
No, I didn't apply for the card. Maybe I should… Hmmm….
