M is for Myg

It was a Thursday night at Clockwork, like any other. Gorgeous Guenevere was spinning. The regulars were bullshitting. All was well.

But then trouble showed up. Or should I say, Sable.

I don’t know if it was the skin, the hair, the eyes. Odds are high it was that red dress. Or maybe it was simply the way she sauntered into the bar, quietly, and just started to animate those fine pixels of hers.

But after nearly a year of admiring her from afar, coveting her skin and hair and clothes, building with her, and being her girl pal, I was inspired.

“Sable, let’s make out!”

“Okay!”

“OMG” said Alex.

“Dude take pictures…” said Wrath.

All it takes is a little girl to girl spit swap to make the boys lose their shit. Not moments later, Burgess was brandishing not one but two Glocks, and Wrath was laying in a pool of blood.

It all happened so fast, all I could think to myself was,

“Did Second Life make me gay?”

Maybe it was Sable? Or was it a combination of things?

We danced.

Then I heard his voice. “Myg?”

“You still need me…” he said. “I can take out the garbage.”

“I can do that,” Sable said.

“I’ll clean the cat box.” Now he was talking. “I’ll clean the gutters.”

“I don’t like heights,” Sable said. “Maybe we do need him.”

This entry was posted on Friday, January 11th, 2008 at 10:06 pm and is filed under Clockwork.