THE WEB
By Jon Maas
Pete Sunderson looked at the address once more: 355 S. Arana Street. This is it, he thought, and it’s a dump. He took a deep breath and entered without knocking. It wasn’t so bad once he got inside; the place was empty, old and abandoned, but it was clean. It was spotless, in fact. He’d been in worse places; most hookups from Craigslist involved bad places.
Pete had learned to tune out the smell of mold, a barking Pit Bull in the front yard, and even the unmentioned kid or two. This is the price you pay, he thought. He’d also learned to run; internet hookups could go sour quite quickly. He’d run if he heard a husband coming up the driveway. He’d run if the woman had a visible STD. He’d run if he felt the woman was really a man.
He’d always give it a shot though, even when the circumstances were a bit depraved. Pete once ended up at a Meth lab; the woman inside was missing some teeth and smelled like cheese, but he stayed and she made it worthwhile. She needed money, and would literally do anything for twenty dollars. Anything.
Odd places have upsides, thought Pete, just keep your wits about you, and if there’s any trouble, run.
He was a little suspicious of this woman already; she couldn’t spell. This wasn’t uncommon in the Craigslist hookup culture, but they had been communicating for two days now and she failed to make a single sentence without some egregious error. He looked down at the printout of her note:
Meate me at mie hom, 355 S. Aranya St
Apt 203. Wee have fun.
- S. Weever
To her credit, he could tell from their email exchange that she wasn’t a Bot or some man trying to kidnap him. She said her poor spelling was due to the fact that she was an immigrant who didn’t know English too well.
Girls who want Visas can be friendly, thought Pete, let’s give this a shot.
Pete went up the stairs and felt uneasy; no one lived in the building. It could be a Crackhouse. It could be a setup.He took another look at the girl’s photo to keep his nerve. She was gorgeous, most likely from Eastern Europe. If there was a chance she looked like even remotely like this, he had to take it. He sidled up to the door and knocked; she answered after twenty seconds. Her voice unnerved him a bit.
“Come in,” she said in flawless English, “It’s open.”
/***/
Pete sat in the chair; it was uncomfortable but there was no place else to sit. The room was almost completely bare and immaculately clean. There was one mirror lying against the far wall. Pete took a look; his overweight frame was sweating profusely. He steeled himself against a possible trap. A girl like that would not hook up with a guy like me, he thought, and how come her English is perfect all of a sudden?
“You ok in there?” he asked.
“Please wait,” she responded, “please wait.”
She’s definitely a girl, thought Pete, she might show up with an extra hundred pounds on her, but she’s a girl at least. But something still seems odd.
“Maybe we can hang out in the living room?” he asked, “Get to know each other?”
“Please wait,” she responded, “please wait.”
Pete lost his nerve. Why would she invite him in, and then have him stay in the living room? And her voice sounded strange, like it was pre-recorded. Something didn’t seem right. He got up and headed out the door, but just as he was about to leave, he heard her call from the back room again.
