My dad came and visited me for a few days. It was honestly awesome. He flew in on a Friday afternoon. That afternoon we went to a burger joint that my coworkers really hyped up and well it was good. It wasn’t the “best”, as they put it, but it was still pretty good. Afterward, we went and watched a three-hour movie that was also really good. We came back to my apartment and went to sleep that night.

The next day, I took him to an Americanized Mexican food place that has some amazing breakfast for cheap. He said it was good, but he was more fixated on how cheap it was. Then we went to a hiking trail the natives used to walk on the south side of the town, and we walked maybe a third of it before turning back. We didn’t turn back because we were tired, we turned back because the “hiking trail” went through the city. Then we went home and chilled out for a few hours. Then we went out to go bowling and then out to eat afterward. Bro, I used to work in a bowling alley and my dad SMOKED me across all six games. I was trying to spin the ball rather than throw it straight down and I just couldn’t do it right. I kept putting way too much spin on the ball and it would hit one, maybe two pins. Meanwhile, my dad did his normal thing and hit most of the pins every frame.

The way that I was taught to spin the ball was to put my two fingers in the holes, with no thumb, and use my bicep to roll it on the right side of the lane. As you roll it, you use your bicep rather than a whip motion of your body. Simultaneously, as the ball is being released your hand is at the bottom and you come up to the right of the ball really quick with that hand, the ball should continue its course as it was. This spin is supposed to make it hit the pocket of the pins from the right side. But rather than hitting the pocket, my spin kept going way too early and missing the front of the aligned pins and instead just hitting the back left pins.

We played six games in a singular hour. By the way, that singular hour cost me sixty-two dollars man. When I worked at the bowling alley, a completely separate company ten hours away, forty-two dollars got two people an hour of bowling. I mean I could afford it because I get paid pretty decently, but still, the principal is still there. But moving on.

After we went to an Asian café my coworkers wouldn’t stop hyping up. I got some shrimp teriyaki, and my dad got the chicken version of it. It was good, minus the shrimp’s tails were still there and I had to peel as I ate. Then we also got a sushi roll to split. The first bite was amazing, and the second bite was pretty good, but then the third and fourth bites were the most disgusting Asian cuisine I think I’ve ever eaten. After we went and picked up some Bundt cakes as well as trying cookies from Crumble Cookie. They both were super good.

Then we went back home because I live in the desert and there isn’t really anything for us to do together. My dad and I talked a lot that night while we were sitting at home. The next morning, we went to Golden Corral for breakfast and were severely disappointed. We were expecting a big breakfast buffet but instead were met with their normal menu plus a little bit of breakfast. It also didn’t help that I got sick midway through eating.

After I took him to the airport which concluded my first visit with my dad since I’ve moved out.

That same Sunday I realized Pepper hadn’t eaten anything since Saturday morning while she had diarrhea. So, I took her to the emergency vet to make sure nothing was wrong with her. The vet gave me some medicine and that was it. That night I realized Peaches also had no appetite and I caught Pepper throwing up.

Monday came around and they still weren’t eating. I decided to give it a day and wait until after work on Tuesday before taking them anywhere. This way the medicine could have some time to take into effect. But alas with just my luck they still hadn’t touched their food by the time I got home on Tuesday. So, I took them to the emergency vet. After both visits, I had spent about a grand on my kitties, but it was worth it. That Wednesday they were both starting to eat again and by that Friday they were back to normal.

After that weekend with my dad followed by the scare with my kitties starving themselves my mundane life trudged on. We were short-staffed at work because one of the keyed employees stole some time and got ratted out by the other employees. This employee was fired for less than a hundred dollars man, to me that's insane. Of course, once that employee was gone with my level of luck, we were having our busiest days yet. Rather than selling ten to twenty thousand dollars worth of products, we were now selling upwards of thirty grand a day. This carried on for about two weeks and really drained me.

After those weeks we finally were able to get our full-timer spot open, and we immediately had two separate people apply. One of them was a guy, probably my age(I never actually looked at his application), and the other one was an older lady. The guy called the store four times in the span of six days keeping me updated on the status of where he was at on the application process. The older lady called me asking if I’d seen her application, even though the job posting explicitly states that she’ll go through a recruiter first before we even see her resume. I think anyone can tell who has left a better impression… But you could call the guy calling so much as being too communicative and might ask you useless work-related questions every few minutes.

It was around this timeframe that I had my first major incident in this area. When I moved out here my dad at least once a day pestered me to work out and make sure I’m in good shape. Why would my dad pester me so? Well two reasons: One is that he has always done this once I hit high school because he sees me as his athletic younger self, to top it off I’m actually good at fighting which encouraged this behavior. The second reason is that the area I moved to has a huge amount of crime. Because of two major reasons besides the economy. One is because we’re close to the border, and the second is because the main industry over here is oil and gas which isn’t always booming.

But the incident happened when I was driving home. It was actually a really good shift; I had just finished working a ten-day stretch and had two days off. I was super excited for those two uneventful days at home just chilling on my personal computer. But as I pulled out of the bank from making a deposit, a trashy beat-up little car pulled out of a nearby parking lot. Five minutes later I’m looking in my rear-view mirror watching it match the slower than the speed limit pace I was driving. Ok that’s kind of odd.

Five more minutes later I’m pulling into my apartment complex and see them take the same turn. Ok this person is following me. My apartments are way too nice for someone with that beat-up of a car to have.

Do I call 9-1-1? Absolutely not, that would ruin my two days of uneventfulness and I will be questioned by the cops multiple times. Additionally, I personally despise our justice system and how the majority of society is fine with netting out meek punishments.

Next option: Do I drive around in circles and make it known I know they’re following me? Also no, the element of surprise is on my side so I should carry on like usual. So I park in my carport and notice them parking in the unassigned open spots in front of my unit. It was at this moment I was incredibly annoyed because I wouldn’t have to deal with this scum if the gates were functioning properly because they wouldn’t have a code. I left my wallet and my phone and my keys in the car.

I walked the two-minute walk towards my apartment, thankfully I’m on the bottom floor. As I was passing the car a Hispanic dude got out of it. He literally had a black hoodie on which was covering the top of his head and rested enough in front of his head to cast a shadow on the rest of his young-looking face.

I take like two steps and hear him walking behind me. Hopefully, he doesn’t have a gun. I walk the whole ten-foot trek to my apartment and stop in front of my door. I stop and throw my hand in my pocket like I would be reaching for keys. As I did this I felt something press into my back.

“Put your hands up or you’ll get shot.” A husky voice said from behind me.

I complied and pulled my pocket inside out as I did so.

“Good, now don’t scream. This is a robbery.” Wow, who would have guessed?

He started patting down my pockets looking for valuables. I should also point out that he probably had a good foot and a half or so on me.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

So, when he had bent over, instead of squatting like a smart person, while searching me he had stopped pointing the gun at me. I could spin around and have him on the ground before he could react honestly. But I won’t do that because honestly, I wanted to see the look on his face when he realized I got nothing.

His pat me down lasted about thirty seconds to a minute. When he finished, he firmly planted that gun back in between my shoulder blades. Honestly something about that ‘gun’ feels off though.

“Turn around, slowly.” He commanded.

“Claro que mi amigo,” I replied. It translates to basically ‘Sure thing my friend’.

“Shut up!” He shouted. Probably mad that a little white boy like me can speak a little bit of his language. But, based on how he had no accent, he was definitely born and raised here though so he probably was just mad that he didn’t speak Spanish.

While turning I kept my hands raised and I did it slowly. When I turned around, I got a good look at his face. He had acne scars like me, looked young probably a year or two older than me, had a big nose that drooped a little, had blue eyes, a little pedo stache, a pudgy head, and I could see he had shaved his hair so short that he was almost bald.

Honestly, he wasn’t holding up a gun at me I could tell. It was wrapped in a bunch of towels so you couldn’t tell what it was. But it lacked verticality from his arm. His hand was also wrapped in the towels, so I didn’t see where it was. But what I did see was that the top of his arm was completely even with the top of the towels. There was no bump between his arm and the top of the towels. If he had a gun under there, he would have a noticeable difference in the height of the towels and the arm, The towels would be a good three to five inches higher than his arm based on what pistil he would be holding. Well, now I can enjoy myself. At most he has a knife, but it is wrapped firmly in multiple layers of towels.

I am going to beat the ever-loving shit out of this guy. He ruined my day and to top it off he has the gall to rob me without a gun. Robbing ME without a gun? Out of everyone in this town, ME? I don’t fancy myself as a professional fighter, but I know for a fact I am leagues above normal people. And I might not have trained in about two and a half years now at this point, but I am in pretty good shape and can do at least half the things I was once able to do.

“Where the fuck is your stuff homie?” He asked.

“I lost it, man.” I said while shrugging. While I shrugged I dropped my arms.

“Hands up!” he shoved the towels into my chest in a shoving motion. I felt that metal thing inside the towels this time. It was like a much firmer section of the towels directly in the middle. And it was thin. Ok, he has a knife, and it is wrapped thinner than I thought but it should still be good.

I couldn’t hold myself back and chuckled. “What are you gonna do shoot me?”

He looked at me just absolutely flabbergasted. But he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, stay quiet buddy because you can’t shoot me, can you?” I was chucking the whole sentence as I said that. Oh, this poor guy.

His face seemed to have an epiphany and contorted in a face of terror-stricken realization. Before he could reach though I latched onto his forearm with my left hand and swiped the towel-covered knife to the floor.

Good on this guy though, He quickly threw a wide punch with his left hand.

As that happened, I felt myself almost getting the shakes that are the bane of most people. Shakes are when your body starts to shake from panic because you’re not used to combat. But just like in training I stay calm and respond kindly.

It was a wide punch, so it was easy to dodge. I flung my upper body back as I let go of his arm and his entire body rotated with that punch. The punch flew right past me. Unfortunately for me, and by extension him, I felt the wall at my back so I was forced to counterattack.

Before he could straighten up his poster, I quickly shot a low round kick at the back of his legs. Doing this made me really understand how much my body has deteriorated and it kind of felt strained throwing that low kick. I used to be proud as a ‘kicking specialist’ but unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to do anything cool and effective like I used to.

The kick connected and he buckled down to his knees. Before his arm was out of my reach, I grabbed it by the wrist with my left hand. As my right foot landed, I immediately threw it in another roundhouse at his arm. Unlike the prior kick, I gave this one as little power as I could because I do not want to cripple his arm. Because then he’d go to the cops, and I’d get in trouble rather than this piece of human trash.

It connected and thankfully I didn’t hear the crunch that is usually accompanied by the complete shattering of a bone. Instead, his arm bent the wrong way a bit and he let out a shout of pain. I let go of his arm and stepped back.

He tried standing up, but this is a real fight, not a refereed match. As he got one foot flat on the ground I stepped in deep with my left foot and put my whole body and soul into a low uppercut with my right. I hit him right in the middle of the chest and it sent him back with a loud deep exhale. That exhale is the indicator that he has been winded and won’t be able to breath for a split second.

We swapped places. Now I was standing where he was, and he was sitting down with his back against the wall. I took a step closer.

He recovered quickly and shouted at me, “Please, I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t be sorry if you had taken my cash though.” I smiled. He gave that same look of horror from a minute ago.

He quickly reset mentally and tried to stand up but I hit him right in the face with a quick-stepping front kick. The second and third kick felt way better than that first kick felt, I get the slight feeling I’ll be sore tomorrow. When I had reset my foot, I grabbed his head with my left hand and started laying into him with my right. But he is laying against the wall, why grab his head if it's already going nowhere? Because I want to hurt him, not give him brain damage and get in trouble with the cops.

As I was sitting there throwing my fist into him for a good minute or two my sentiment started changing. What was a one-minute beat down was now an adrenaline-fueled five-minute pounding. The more my fist hit his face the more all the scenes from that other Earth flashed through my head.

Nateen’s pure young smile followed by the knight holding her decapitated head dripping with blood coupled with the look in her eyes. Sebastian’s cool laid-back conversation was followed by a bolt protruding from his head that was staring at me with lifeless eyes as the saddle dragged him away. To Isabelle’s look of pure horror realizing she had been poisoned to the priest’s gleeful smile.

All these scenes flashed through my head, and I just took out all my anger on this guy. A few minutes later I stopped to catch my breath and finally got a good look at him with the intention of finding the best finishing spot to land a blow.

I was hit with a sinking realization. Even though I wasn’t planning to kill him, I’ve seen guys put in a coma for less. He had blood just flowing out his nose, definitely a busted lip, I could already see the bruises starting to form on his eyes when usually it takes a day or so for them to be seen. There was blood all over his cheeks and forehead. That unfortunately came from my knuckles.

I was about to kill this guy. At that moment if I hadn’t stopped he was about to been hit so hard my hand holding him would have slipped from the sweat and he would be getting beaten with his head hitting the wall.

I felt myself get another version of the shakes, something I hadn’t ever felt since I was in elementary school after hitting another kid. These shakes were coming from guilt and revulsion. I was visibly shaking so I had to leave.

I grabbed his throat and pulled him close. I whispered in his ear, “If I ever see you again, I’m going to kill you, buddy. And if you try to go to the cops about this, I have your knife with your fingerprints all over it.”

The look in his eyes went wide. OK cool this guy doesn’t know the law. If he had gone to the cops, I would have been in way more trouble. My fingerprints are all over his neck, head, and wrist while my blood is all over his face right now. Then additionally my face juxtaposed against his would also help seal my fate in the court. A self-defense plea would never work with how badly I messed this guy’s face up.

I threw him back and ran to my car and grabbed my stuff. I hurriedly shuffled back to my apartment and noticed he was in his car. He had his hands on the steering wheel and his head was buried in his forearms. I think he was crying.

I don’t really care about his circumstances though. I have my own and they’re called ‘bills’. Everyone has their own circumstances though and you can always make the choice to rob a corporation rather than a person.

I hurried inside and locked the door behind me. I slumped to the floor and buried my face in my knees. I didn’t cry… But I was close to it.

I almost killed a man. I would have thrown my life away. I don’t know what would happen to my cats. I would definitely lose my job. I would then have issues getting another job. I got a sweet gig right now. I’m a twenty-one-year-old college dropout making more money than the national average and am looking to clear triple digits by the time I’m twenty-five. I’m looking to retire by the time I’m thirty and can then start doing whatever I want.

I wasn’t planning on killing him, in fact, I even held myself back more than once, so I didn’t permanently hurt him. But I was so close to just killing the guy in that last beating. Why? I was thinking of the other world I’ve visited and got uncontrollably angry.

I don’t know how long I sat there but at some point, the kitties came up to me. They sat there and meowed for a bit but then realized that would accomplish nothing, so they rubbed against me for a minute and then took a seat next to me.

So far there has only been one real pleasant experience, but every time it gets soured at the end even more because the person who summoned me gets killed somehow. The first two just died to violence that I could theoretically stop somehow but failed both times while the last time I just had zero protection against poison. What was I supposed to do about that? Taste test the food? No, I don’t have a mouth over there just a black smooth face where the chin kind of drops when I’m talking. Well actually princesses are supposed to have a taste tester so I wonder what happened there.

That last thought eventually sobered me up and I got up and went to feed the cats. Thoughts were still swirling around my head, but I can always get over them. But overall I guess I’ve got to work on controlling my anger because I realized I’ve been snapping a lot more lately

As I placed the wet food that comes before the dry kibble, I saw my forearm was starting to glow. God damn it dude….