Tasha ripped the page from her typewriter in frustration. Julia Kewl from Nantucket, her arch nemesis, was probably finishing up half a dozen cheap romance novels right now, meanwhile Tasha couldn't get the first chapter right. To calm herself down she logged on to VCT to browse various flame wars. She was stunned to see she had a PM for the first time in years. She clicked on it. It was from ***:

Dear Tasha, I will be in Miami for 3 days starting tomorrow. During that time I would like to deflower you and have you fart on my face for a minimum of two hours. I will pay you a sum of $2000 for your time. If these terms are agreeable to you, we can arrange to meet at the Barking Flamingo Casino.

Your admirer,
***

Tasha was stunned. As an asexual autistic virgin, she had no idea *** felt that way about her. *** was often dismissive of her, taking part in the ragging and dragging on many occasions. She quickly replied in the affirmative, and as a show of good faith, also included a pic of her gash. *** said thanks for the pic of her gash and Tasha welcomed him. Oh how she wished they could shake hands.

The next day she took an Uber to the Hialeah Park Casino and waited at the agreed upon meeting spot. She waited for hours, playing slots very slowly to bide her time while not blowing all her money at once. Finally, at 4 pm she gave up and left. Her Uber driver was a chatty fellow who asked her how much money she won. "Nothing." Tasha replied dejectedly. The driver told her to cheer up because everyone at the Barking Flamingo Casino had a much worse day: active shooter.

Suddenly it hit Tasha, she had waited at the wrong casino. "D'oh!" she exclaimed, just like Homer Simpson. The driver gave her a quizzical look but continued with his news summary. Apparently some out-of-towner had shot up the place before being killed by police. Tasha said nothing, but her heart raced. Could *** have been shot? Wait, could *** have been the gunman???

She logged on to VCT and sent *** a PM. She checked ***'s recent posting history, and nothing. The next day, there was still nothing. Months passed and it was as if *** had vanished. On VCT some posters mentioned how strange ***'s absence was, others mentioned the Barking Flamingo shooting, but nobody mentioned both things together. It took all of Tasha's will power to not join in these conversations.

All in all, Tasha was very grateful that her forgetfulness had saved her life on that fateful day. She vowed to be more forgetful and always get the details wrong.