The sun sits high now, and I am but a man. Though as time passes, the sun sinks and my silver moon surfaces, I become a hunter.
As the bartender splashes cheap liquor into spotted glasses, I stalk quietly in the corner as a lesser man’s prey stumbles drunkenly, clumsily across the sticky floor.
My eyes glide smoothly over the room, evaluating my most promising prospects.
My eyes settle on one; she sits proudly and respectably, and I watch my plan unfold in my mind.
I will be charming, and convincing; modest and self-depricating.
She will resist, at first, as they always do, but the sincere look in my eyes will persuade her that I am not “every other guy.”
She will fall head first into my pool of lies, and tonight she will be mine. And tomorrow,