Encounter

People say that good things do not happen frequently, but bad things do. So I guess my encounter with this whole matter is probably considered a bad thing for me.

Three days after I saw that shitty piece of paper on my way back from a long ass walk with me and my cigarettes, I took another walk. This time I went about four blocks behind my apartment, maybe around 2-3 am in the morning?

I was taking this late ass walk because of a fucking dream. I saw a dream of that damned bitch in the well who comes out from the fucking TV to fucking scare the living shit out of her fucking victims. God damn it, I love horror movies but I hate it when they come out in my dreams. I like laughing at those little fuckers in the movies getting their asses whooped by a fucking psycho bitch, but god damn I would not like being them. If I were ever in that situation I’d cry and beg for my fucking nuts. Actually, I’d offer my nuts, my friends, even my fucking girlfriend if I had one. I’d give up anything for my life. Call me a pussy, see if I care. I don’t want to encounter any psycho bitch with long ass black hair that comes out from a fucking TV. I don’t mind dying from anything else. Just not that bitch.

Too bad this fucking walk didn’t really help me vent my fear of little girls in wells.

I was walking and I heard someone else walking behind me. God damn it. Why does someone else have to be taking a walk around 2-3am in the fucking morning? Was this person also fucking scared? What’s he scared of? Some serial killer with a fucking hockey mask? Or is he scared of some haunted doll who goes around with a fucking huge ass pair of scissors? Bitch, shut the fuck up. Alright, the doll is fucking terrifying, but that girl in the well is a shit loads more scarier. God damn it. Fucker sounds like he’s following me. Wait, it might be a girl. Ah fucking hell, if it’s a girl then it must be that fucking bitch from the well. Fuck the fucking well.

So I fucking turned around to get a good look at this probably unintentionally scary innocent pedestrian.

And It was Him. The guy who would change my life.

What I saw that day was an Asian dude about six feet tall in black jacket, zipped up all the way. He had jeans. Normal, not those skinny jeans, or baggy jeans. Just regular jeans. Nice regular jeans that don’t make your balls sweat too much. And Sandals. Shitty sandals. His hair was fucking messy as hell. Looked like he woke up from some messy sex with an ugly ass bitch (having sex with an ugly bitch, not only makes you feel like crap, but also makes you look like crap the next day; it totally ruins whatever self-respect you have left). He had a pile of papers about a quarter of an inch thick in his black-gloved hands.

The first thing he did wasn’t anything life changing. He saw me turn around and I guess he thought there was something behind him so he also turned around. Dumb bitch, you were the fucker causing my slight mental break down. He turns back around towards me, shrugs, and walks passed me. Doesn't make any eye contact. When he came across the street light about ten feet away from where I was standing, he grabbed some tape from inside his jacket. He grabbed one piece of paper and taped it on the pole. I stood their and lit a cigarette and continued staring at him tape up his papers up on the other electric poles on the same side of the street. As I saw him turn left on the corner three blocks down, I walked up to the first pole he taped his paper on. I some how guessed that it wasn’t one of those “Lost My Dog” notices.

The paper said:

SUICIDE HELPER
Do you feel like killing yourself?
Are you bored with life?
Do you wanna die?
Can't do it alone?

We'll help you!

Call this number
(xxx-xxx-9809)

Remember people die alone,
But you don't have to do it alone!

I recorded the number on my phone. I wondered if they have specific business hours.