Sure I bombed, but I stopped a maybe rape on the way home.

Went out to kips.
Bombed like shit.
In front of friends. Coworkers.

Then I got drunk.
Then Tim Young talked to me, he was cool. I think he’s gonna be famous some day, and I’m gonna be that fucking asshole who’s like, “oh yeah, I know Tim Young.”

Then, after getting drunk, I got on the train. On the train, a man with eyes that I have seen before; eyes that I have never seen on a man who was not “up to no good;” was chatting up a lady I deduced to be a musician.

She was young, pretty, and clearly uncomfortable.

He was shifty eyed, falsely flattering and highly reminiscent of the peg pegged bat from the Great Mouse Detective.

Fidget.

So Fidget is freaking the fuck out of Miss Music, and I can’t not say something.

And just so you know,
I love the X-Men.
I just bought Marvel Legos.
Captain America 2 is coming out like, tomorrow.

I have this weird superhero complex built into me.

So I (rather drunkenly) interject into the conversation.

Now, let me remind you:

I have just bombed in comedy.
I just bombed in front of comics I have genuine admiration for.

Tim Young.

Goddamn adorable.

And I know, after that experience
What bombing looks like.

This guy on the train,
Is bombing.
He is bombing with this girl
Harder than I have ever seen someone bomb
To the point where I think he might pull out the “rape card” Simply because he has nowhere to go.

So I interject.

And I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
Keep in mind
I had a month to plan the shit fest that was my bomb at kips.

I had all of thirteen seconds
To stop a potential rape.

So my comic instinct tells me,
Get on board with the room.

Get on their side.

Which in the moment
Was me, abruptly and aggressively agreeing with whatever the fuck the guy was saying.

In that moment, it was about how drugs were bad.

Because a Street Spirit guy had just gotten on.

So I am shouting
How drugs are bad
To the last Bart train
Trying to lower the mild percentage of this girl getting sexually assaulted.

She gets off at Powell.
Thankfully, that is where I get off.
I make sure he isn’t going to follow her off the train,

Which honestly was a stare down.

He didn’t get off.

I saw the girl as I got on my bus off the Bart train. I don’t think she knows why I did what I did, and I know it was stupid and crazy to do that based on a weird instinct while being a little drunk and coming off a comedy bomb, but I don’t really care.

Captain America doesn’t care.

Another one done

Ah march notebook, you were a fine friend. Your water resistant stone paper came in quite handy, and I shall look for similar products in the future, but today, for April and perhaps May (as it is a larger journal) I shall use a new leather bound notebook because I am a pretentious douchebag who pretends to be brilliant but uses run on sentences, and totally misspelled pretentious.

Love, me

Eric Wong is a writer. He is turning into one of those crazy notebook guys.