A quest for evil.

         When you smile at her she spits then laughs and you cry, inside, then pee your pants, outside. This is a certainty, she may seem wonderful but everything does. I first met her on the strip in Las Vegas and she made me cry, inside, and then a dozen others. Her talent isn’t insulting you, everyone does that, at sometime, everyone makes a joke or points out our individual retardations, but she has the gift. A gift of curse, she looks into your soul and within seconds reveals all that you hate about yourself. She will find the guy who beats off to gay porn while crying tears of anguish, and will explain how she doesn’t date men who: Cry While They Masturbate. I have seen her do it.
         It took me a month just to recover from what she said to me, and then I realized something about her character and values and was excited to meet her again. Evil is only enticing when it presents opportunities for your advancement in life or when you can defeat it. The only true way to extinguish the fire is to put it out, to prove to it and everybody that it cannot consume everything and everyone. She will consume nothing else, hurt no more men, and burn no more souls.
         I need to find her, I need to get even. This quest I have set to in retrospect is quite odd, odd in the way that people in alleys are odd. I met one bitchy girl, had one bad experience and now she is my greatest obsession.
         In confidence I realize in the back of my mind, where all my secrets go to hide and die and stay far away from my day to day thoughts and experience, I almost love her. She interests me for two polar opposite reasons: the first being she is by far more attractive then Helen of Troy or your mother, the second being I have a healthy respect for someone who has the gumption and the courage to be mean in such an ugly way.
         I too can be mean.