It was around seven o’clock at night, the time I usually walk my dog. It was summertime so the days were longer and the sun hadn’t gone down all the way, leaving half the sky a pale blue and the other half a deep azure. And even though it was a new moon and there were no stars in the sky yet, there were plenty of street lamps to light my way. I didn’t think that it was an unusual night. The only real difference was that I had decided to walk by myself instead of with my sister like I normally do. Oh, and the guy I passed on the sidewalk. The one with the short, sandy blond hair, and light blue eyes. And the white plastic bag.
I had just rounded the corner when I saw a small tied plastic bag lying on the sidewalk. I assumed someone didn’t want to carry dog shit home with them and just left it there. That was until I heard the ticking noise. It was a slow sound, but not like a clock. A clock goes tick tock and what I heard was tick tick. That was it. Tick tick, over and over again. In case I’m not being clear enough, inside the bag was a bomb. An explosive. A mortar ready to blow me and my cute Jack Russell Terrier up.
It’s funny actually. Because just a few seconds ago I had been thinking how nice it would be to die. So cliché, I know. I mean, did I really have a good reason to kill myself? The answer is: no. I was sixteen, fresh out of my junior year, not looking forward to going to college any time soon. I could list all the reasons why I wanted to kill myself, but it’s boring, depressing, and no one really gives a shit. So anyway, there I was out walking my dog like normal when I came across a bomb about to blow me up. I didn’t try to run away. Why would I? I wanted to kill myself and this was a good way to do it. I felt sorry for my dog, she didn’t deserve to die, but I was happy it was going to be over soon.
This is when mister good-looking-guy-surfing-at-the-beach comes in. I’m standing there, probably looking like an idiot for not running away when a bomb is right in front of me, when the guy I passed by before comes running over like a lifeguard straight from Baywatch and kicks the bomb as if it were a soccer ball. (Yes, that is really what it looked like. My imagination isn’t top notch so I could only describe the whole scene using metaphors.) I expected the bomb to explode when the guy’s foot hit it, but it traveled across the air for a few seconds and then blew up. The guy quickly looked at me to see if I was alright and, I’m guessing, waiting to be thanked. But thanking him was the last thing I wanted to do. I silently stalked over and kicked him in the shin while chiding, “Why’d you go and do that?!”
He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “I was trying to save your life. Are you saying you wanted to die?”
“No shit, Sherlock!” I retorted. Usually I’m not an angry person, but this guy had just ruined my chance at a quick semi-painless way to die. So now I was pissed. I waved my hands towards where the bomb landed, “You just messed everything up. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he scoffed, “Why do you wanna kill yourself anyway?”
I rolled my eyes, “Why in the world would I tell you? Just leave me the hell alone, asshole.” I turned to walk away.
“Hey!” He grabbed my arm and spun me around so I was facing him, “I won’t apologize for saving your life, but saving you is not reason to call me an asshole.”
“I’ll call you an asshole if I want to! Freedom of speech!” I yanked my arm out of his grip and stormed away. I thought that was the end of it. I would never see this annoying guy again and I could continue my meaningless existence alone. But, of course it wasn’t that simple. He followed me all the way home and the entire way there he kept complaining how ungrateful I was. I finally reached my house and placed my hand on the door knob.
“Do you even know why a bomb was out there in the first place?” He asked.
“I don’t care.”
I said that, but I actually hadn’t thought about it. It was strange. I lived in what I thought was a normal neighborhood where the neighbors baked pies for all the new residents and everyone knew your dog’s name. The fact that someone left an explosive on the sidewalk with the purpose, I assume, of blowing someone up was bizarre and a little unnerving. I slipped on some pajama pants with blue fish covering them plus a turquoise tank top and climbed under my puffy comforter. I was soon fast asleep.
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