I encountered a strange woman at the bus stop the other night. It was late—right after midnight. It is no surprise that I would meet an odd person at the bus stop at such a late hour, for that is where all the weird people hang out. And yet, there was just something about her; something that bewildered me and pulled something out of me. For the last couple of days, I have been searching for an explanation on how she managed to do this; my attempts, however, have been unsuccessful.

When I approached the bus stop, my cell phone vibrated in my back pocket. I figured it must have been my ex wanting to work things out. I sat down and that is when I met her.

“You should not text and kill, it’s not healthy.”

“Pardon?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No I don’t.” My phone went off again. “Wait, do you mean the text I just got from my ex? How do you know this stuff? You don’t know me.”

“Yes, but I know what you did in the dark.” She looked me dead in the eye.

“Wait what?” This scared me, for there was so many things that I did in the dark that no one should know about.

“I know what you are thinking: you are plotting on taking my toothbrush—I can sense it!”

“I’m not planning on taking anyone’s toothbrush! What are you talking about you crazy hag!?”

“So I’m just blabbering on, while you dedicate your life to the horrors of pencils?”

“Pencils? Has anyone ever told you that you make no sense?”

“You’re a mug.”

“What is that supposed to mean!?”

“It means that you think you are a fly.”

“Like the insect?” The old woman pulled out a long, thin, black box out of her bag. “What’s that?”

“This not fried chicken.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But what exactly is it?” My phone buzzed again and answered it.

“Please keep the penguin inside the ride.”

“This,” I said while pointing at my phone, “is not a penguin, and my pants pocket is not a ride. Are you smoking some weird substance?”

“No, but what smoke are you cracking?”

“That’s not how the kids ask each other what drugs they are on. You old people really need to try and stop acting cool. How old are you? Wait, the better question is, who are you?”

“I’m a bad person: I built sand castles in golf course bunkers and used flash photography in areas where it was not permitted.”

“You are such a rebel.”

“The turtle was not there to save me that one time—I am still mad. The giant hand was about to kill me, but I built a mountain just in time.”

“Is that a metaphor for something?” She handed me the thin black box. I opened it and found a long, black dagger.

“Make it count, and it will smell like buttered popcorn—I swear.”

“Why are you giving this to me? What do you mean by ‘it will smell like buttered popcorn’?”

“Death, go get that guy.” She whispered under her breath.

“Okay, you are scarring me, old lady!” I put the dagger down on the bench next to her, got up and took a few steps away from her. I decided to walk home instead of ride the bus with her.

“Remember, what does not kill you, you can log for PE.” I turned around just to give her a confused glare. However, when I turned around she was not there. The knife was no longer on the bench where I left it; instead, it was back in my hand. At that moment, I received another text from my ex. Still holding the knife, I read it.

“I love you.”

I replied, “I love you too. Hey I know it’s late, but can I come over tonight?”