No matter the tribulation, I can always rely on the boys to keep me grounded. Even when the girl of my dreams manifests into reality.

I walked to the front counter and ordered four burgers and fries for booth three.

Jared, his head barely reaching above the matte red seats of booth three, waved, his short arm jiggling with the motion. Still unshaven as always like a man who just crawled out of his mother's basement after a forty year hiatus.

"Hey Jared," I said taking a seat.

Jared sat opposite of me. His stubby legs dangling a couple of inches from the ground.

"Hey Jordan. Did you watch that anime yet?"

"I told you I am never going to watch it," I said flippantly.

Jared grabbed the table pulling himself up.

"Bro you promised!"

Luckily, I didn't need to respond.

Andrew plopped next to Jared.

"Look who finally left their mother's house," Andrew said with a wry smile.

"How about you put those fingers away before you poke an eye out," Jared retorted.

I couldn't help but laugh. Andrew has the biggest middle fingers I've ever seen. It is as if a skin walker perfectly imitated a human but watched too much E.T in the eighties. Even as he towered over most people, Andrew's fingers still felt disproportionate.

Andrew held out his massive hands.

"Better stop laughing, Jordan. Or I might just poke an eye out!"

I held out my hands in peace.

"Okay. Okay. Put down the deadly weapons."

"Yoooooo, are we talking about Andrew's weird fingers again?" a voice said behind me.

I turned to see a tall dark haired, strong chinned, and square chested man behind me.

Andrew displayed his two long middle fingers proudly to Charles as two big f-yous.

"Hey Charles," I said stifling a tween like giggle.

"Ha ha ha," Charles said sarcastically as he began to frantically look around.

Jared pulled out a coloring book from behind his back.

"Looking for this?"

Charles's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas Day.

"Yes," Charles said snatching it from Jared's hands then carefully pulled out a handful of crayons from his pocket.

"So, why did you ask us here," he asked as he began coloring a page.

"I brought a woman home last night," I said, "but you wouldn't believe what it cost me".

It was around twelve last night when I heard light tapping on my door. At first, I wanted to ignore it. After all, no one comes to visit me especially in the middle of the night. Not anyone I would want to meet that is. Soon the nagging in my brain came to the conclusion that in fact there is someone at the door and they are here to murder me with a rusty machete or worst yet, a renegade group of cultists have finally come to collect a virgin sacrifice. So armed with a rolling pin and high blood pressure, I approached the door.

"Ahem," Andrew interjected. "I don't mean to interrupt but isn't opening a door for a stranger in the middle of the night, a good way to die. I can practically feel the audience cringing at you."

Jared pressed a finger to Andrews lips.

"Have you never seen anime? A stranger at midnight always brings some incredible power or better yet, an offer to transport you to another world to get a harem of cat girls."

"Quiet please, we all know a stranger at midnight means free pizza," Charles said between a mouthful of fries.

My brain died.

"How. Does . . . A stranger mean free pizza?"

"One time a delivery driver knocked on my door and gave me free pizza. I didn't even order any," Charles said laughing.

"I think you just stole someone's pizza," I said exasperated.

"No because he gave it to me. I didn't steal it."

I looked into Charles eyes, his cheeks forced upwards from the pressure of his grin.

"Thank you for sharing, Charles. More importantly the girl did not give me pizza nor was she bringing me some special power."

I leaned forward.

"She stole something much more valuable ."

I shoved the door open and went into battle stance.

Instead of a manly growl, my personal space intruder let out a tiny yelp. In fact, it was a familiar sound, not unlike a cat in heat. Of course, I couldn't be so lucky. Instead, a shadow of a woman stood with a door knob sized imprint in her head, much like a stalker caught looking through a peephole and the door did its best impression of Chris Hansen.

And unlike a cat in heat, I knew the girl wasn't offering a good time. That would be far too simple, for she comes not for my loins, but something far more valuable, my heart. To be assured, I was angry, perhaps depressed, maybe excited even; but my brain couldn't keep up. So, as I looked into the delicate creature's eyes for thirty seconds too long, my brain at last put my feelings into perfect verbiage.

"Hi".

Ah yes brain. This woman used to be your one desire. She was the miracle of your comedic drama; the nerd gets the hot girl against all odds, and we live happily ever after. I am the frog and true loves kiss from the fair princess will set me free, yet, I am here shirtless, dawning my trusty Hanes boxers, and wielding Excalibur the rolling pin.

"I once heard a cat in heat outside my door and it was really loud," Charles said.

"Thank you, Charles," I said.

"I told you she was a cat girl!" Jared exclaimed.

I put my hand over my face, interlacing my fingers as if they were a curtain to shield away the stupidity.

"Let me continue, and no she is not a cat girl, you stubby legged weeb."

Perhaps it's a good time to mention that she wasn't just any woman. She was made almost completely of shadow, and not just any shadow, but one with a human-like face and green marbled eyes.

Those eyes drew me in as if there was something otherworldly about them and I couldn't quite figure out why. They hinted of intelligence, like she possessed a third person view.

The strangest part. I knew those eyes. I knew that silhouette. I know this woman.

I stopped mid story, Andrew and Jared waiting with bated breath as Charles snuck fries from Jared's plate.

There is a phrase that comes to mind, she is the girl of my dreams .

The gorgeous creature in front of me was literally the girl of my dreams, and one I dreamed about since I was a teenager going through puberty. Now I say gorgeous generously. She is only as gorgeous as a shadow with a face can be, however; my imagination is
uncontrollable and, unfortunately for her, I have a great imagination.

As risqué as it sounds, I thought of her as a petite woman with full breasts. Her silhouette showed prominent curves where her breasts should be and a slim figure underneath.

Her dark hand reached out pressing against my chest, grasping like her fingers were trying to grab on to a t-shirt that didn't exist. It was cold, smooth metallic feeling. She looked up at me, eyes wide with pupils the size of a dollar coin.

"Help me."

It was a distorted sound like an echo through a car radio, in a tunnel, underwater. The sound vibrated through my body from the tips of her fingers to the bottom of my feet. Her hand began burning cold like grabbing a handful of snow.

I grabbed her hand ignoring the pain and pried it from my chest.

A tear ran down her face falling at the tip of her nose. It turned into an ugly, snot ridden cry. Despite her tears and despite the painful expression, all was silent as if I was watching through a window.

Here the girl of my dreams; a somehow sexy shadow with ink blot tears. I should feel excited, scared maybe? But I felt as if I was meeting a distant relative on thanksgiving day. I felt awkward. I stared at the woman shadow creature thing and shifted my feet.

"I guess I will help you," I sighed. Why not I suppose. Every girl needs a shining knight. Even ones who look like nightmare fuel.

She looked up at me with a smile, ink like snot still dangling from her nostril. She approached cautiously. As she drew close her shadowy hand pressed down the rolling pin in my right hand, sending my arm delicately downward. I watched as the hand traced up the rolling pin. I held my breath, the hand almost to my fingertips.

Then she was gone.

No woman with marbled eyes. No silhouette or any indication of anyone at my doorstep at all. Only the night and a cool breeze against my almost naked body.

I pressed my hand against my chest, it was cold, very cold.

I was left with an anxious sort of melancholy. My palms were clammy, my throat dry, and my chest tight. However, most concerning of all, the rolling pin in my hand was gone. Vanished with the all too alien woman, like a neighbor asking to borrow something knowing it will never be returned.

"Then she disappeared taking my rolling pin. The end," I exclaimed with a sitting bow.