That Day I was almost Kidnapped and Sodomized.

“Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes. Behind Michael N. Schrage is a woman with a strapon.” - Jim Carrey

Damn you, Jim Carrey. I always knew I shouldn’t have invited you to that yacht party. You drank all my gin.

I know I promised aliens tonight, but then something exciting and new happened! Aliens will come tomorrow.

I was almost abducted! I think. But not by aliens. By a man in a van. Should I feel honored?

Tonight, around 9:30pm, I decided to go running. I live in the middle of nowhere. Well, I’m on a main road, but the main road runs through the middle of nowhere, so as long as I survive the 1/10^th mile of insane danger at night before the side roads, I should survive. I also have this nifty reflector vest that makes me look badass. I don’t wear a shirt under it, just this yellow white shiny tape vest thingy made of mesh. It’s so sexy.

So I’m running in near darkness, since this road has one street light per every mile plus. Also, and this seems to be a common thread but it always adds some distinct element, I’m texting while running, in darkness, and if you ever looked at an extremely bright light then peered into darkness, you know how blind you suddenly become. Yes, this seems safe, as I run into someone’s yard, then the woods.

It’s really safe. I promise.

Car lights suddenly shine behind me, from about a half-mile away. This is natural, as cards do occasionally drive this road at night. A few minutes pass…and the car lights are still behind me. The guy is likely driving five miles per hour, creeping down the road towards me as I round the slight curve, into the darkest part of the road, crowded by pine treesto both sides, and a graveyard. Super ironic!

I run for at least a half mile more, and he’s still behind me, closer than ever, close enough to floor it and probably kill me. Worse, I wouldn’t even hear it, since at that moment I’m listening to Blackguard (you should know this band if you don’t), and I can’t hear ANYTHING other than fucktastic music.

The car finally edges past me, ever so slowly, allowing me to clearly see it for the first time. Oh great. A van. Oh great. A van covered in ladders, gardening tools, and nets. This is wonderful. He’s going to throw a net on me, beat me with a shovel, stab me with a fucking rake, and put me in his rape van full of stuffed pandas and baby oil. Great. I’ve just finished watching season four of Dexter. I’m going to die. I’m not a small guy. 6’1, 170, not the easiest victim. But I know I’m defensesless against a man with a van like that. He probably has needles. And hatchets. Knives. Handcuffs—not the fluffy pink ones I adore sooo much. He’s going to stab me in the neck, and I’ll wake up covered in plastic, after he’s had his way with me. I knew my beauty was a curse! He’s going to stab me in the fucking face!

The van turns into the side road and just sits there for a few moments, then finally drives away, slowly. I continue running straight.

Of course I should have turned around, since a murderer was prowling after me, but I hadn’t ran the course of the entire road, and I didn’t want to seem like a pussy, afraid of a little old murderer, so I continued running, reached the stop sign, and turned around. I didn’t see the van again, and as you can tell, I’m still alive.