[ wp ] It turns out that Hell is having to spend all eternity living out someone else 's idea of Paradise .

The morning treated me like the previous eight nights; I find myself waking up in a strange, ramshackle apartment with some kind of screaming music coming from the radio. The bed is stained, there's trash and pizza boxes on the floor, and I suspect empty beer cans buried underneath the garments. The odor is so pungent I dry-heave as I dash to the shower. 
 
 It feels like I'm in some sort of sick Groundhog Day movie. I've tried to mess things up, but they've just turned worse. This time, I'll try to play along to see how things work. Maybe if I act my part, I can get out. 
 
 After cleaning up, I rummage through the entire apartment for any clean clothes. There's no appropriate undergarments, so I settle for some loose jeans and a wrinkled tee with some metal band logo on it. 
 
 Breakfast was also impossible, the fridge seemed to only hold alcohol and old pizza covered in *bacon*. Mortifying. How could someone eat this? THIS WAS A LITTLE PIGGIE! 
 
 Two things need to happen: I need clothes, and I need food. 
 
 Somehow there always seems to be keys in my left pocket, and money in the back one. I left the apartment, Number 1 in Sunny Hills Drive. The parking spaces are marked, and I already found the big truck that belongs to this resident. The truck starts up with this God-awful noise, like something is wrong with it. 
 
 As I peel out of the lot, there's this squirrel I veer around. It seems to always be there and almost jump in front of the truck. Other than that squirrel, there never seems to be any traffic and all the lights are green whenever I get to them. Speed limit signs for this town are all missing. This lawless little village is nothing like the upper echelons of Los Angeles I knew so well. 
 
 One quick stop to the mall and a new outfit bought, and I feel a little better. Next stop, some produce. There was a little stand on the corner a couple blocks down which looked as close to authentic as I'd seen, so I went out to grab a few things. 
 
 *She* was there. Voluptuous woman, fiery red hair, with a black dress that left nothing to the imagination. That demoness looked at me, waiting in line behind her with a few pounds of blueberries and spinach. 
 
 `` Those are my favorite.'' 
 
 `` I like them.'' I manage to fumble. Every memory of her sends chills down my spine. I clutch the small purse I just bought a little closer out of reflex. 
 
 `` I think we've met before, my name's Sasha.'' 
 
 *Please let this line move, it's like it's frozen. * `` Gwen. Good to meet you.'' 
 
 Be strong. She's here still, she ca n't hurt you yet. She waits until dark at least. 
 
 The man running the stand says something to Sasha, and she hands the man some money. `` Consider it on me, dear. Glad we could meet.'' She winks as she walks past. It takes me a minute to calm down and I get back in the truck. 
 
 She's back already. `` Whoa there, is that Chevy yours? That beast of a machine, oversized wheels, custom grill..'' she goes on about some exhaust thing, I'm not sure. Why is this lady so interested? 
 
 `` It's just what I have.'' 
 
 `` You should take me for a *ride* in it, dear.'' There she is with the winking. That's just not me, lady, go away! 
 
 `` I ca n't, I have errands to run.'' 
 
 `` Tis a shame. How about we meet up tonight and you can show me? I wo n't take no for an answer, I'll cover dinner.'' 
 
 `` Well, OK.'' Damnit, Gwen, you were supposed to play along! Even with *her*. 
 
 `` Wonderful. I'll see you tonight, dear.'' And with that, she steps past me to a motorcycle and takes off. Was that motorcycle there when I got here? 
 
 I ca n't do it. Not her, not again. 
 
 The truck comes to life in a roar of anger, and I tear out of town as fast as I can. The road seems dizzying in it's recursion, and I swear I pass the same cactus thrice before finding a gas station. 
 
 It's been four hours, and I figure I'll need to get fuel and stop. I pull over and notice the fuel gauge is still full. I puzzle over it a bit when I notice a familiar motorcycle, but no red-haired lady. 
 
 Nope. Out of here. 
 
 I decide to take the next road that doubled-back a bit, certainly not the most efficient way anywhere, hoping to lose her. Eventually, I end up heading north instead of west. The drive is rough, but I make no stops and go faster than I'd ever gone to get some distance between that *thing* and myself. Eventually, the sun sets and I can feel the fatigue creeping up to me. 
 
 The next exit ramp is for another small town, and I'm pretty sure she's not followed me. Just to be sure, I park the truck a block down the road from a hotel on the opposite side of town. Certainly not an easy hotel to stop at, and the truck is n't there. 
 
 Check-in seems unnerving: the only open room they have is some type of royal suite, but they offer it to me for the rate of any other room. With few options, I accept. 
 
 The room is lavish, like some of the party hosts back home. Locks are set, curtains drawn, and I finally try to relax. 
 
 Only a few minutes pass, and I hear a knock, firm but consistent. A glance out the peekhole and I'm terrified. 
 
 *Her*. 
 
 She opens the door ( what about the locks?!? ) and proceeds in as I back up to the bed. She's in skin-tight black latex, boots, gloves, and a whip in her hand. 
 
 `` You've been quite the bad boy, have n't you? Trying to run away like that.'' 
 
 Boy? 
 
 `` Bad boys like you need punished.'' 
 
 I'm frozen in place `` No, go away! Leave me alone!'' 
 
 `` We both know you like this. Now get on the floor and take off those jeans. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.''
