Congratulations on Losing Five Dollars!

It will all start on the bus.

You ride this bus to work every day. It is an ordinary bus, the 87, running from Arlington Heights into Harvard Square. You and hundreds of other people use it each day to get to and from work. Some people, who may or may not be sexually active teens, even use it to get to and from school.

And today you’re going to lose five dollars on it.

You’ll lose it when a pretty girl in a sweatshirt walks up to you and says “Bet I can’t guess your birthday.”

You’ll pretend you didn’t hear her. Even though she’s cute, its Boston and social morays dictate that you ignore people on busses, even if you think they’re above a seven. But when she taps you on your shoulder you’ll turn around and, conventions be damned, you’ll want to hang on her every word.

“Five bucks says I know your birthday,” she’ll say, grinning playfully.

You’ll look her up and down, but you won’t recognize her. She’ll be prettier than you thought she was at first, like what you’ve always imagined your wife would look like, so you’ll immediately want to keep her talking to you. Five dollars seems like a small price to pay for it.

“You’re on,” you’ll say, opening up your wallet and producing the five dollar bill you’d been planning on cramming into a stripper’s crotch that evening. You’ll hold it in the air and her smile will get real sly all of a sudden. She’ll pull out a piece of paper, lean next to your ear, and whisper into it.

She’ll whisper your birthday. What’s more, she’ll whisper the hour, accurate to the minute you emerged from your mother’s vagina. You’ll be pretty surprised, and by the time you’ve got your wits back the five will be out of your hand, the note will be out of hers, and she’ll be off the bus.

It’ll be an odd experience, one you’ll still be processing when you step off the T and into the office at your low level government job in a passport control office in downtown Boston. When you sit down at your desk you’ll fish around in your pockets and find the note again. When you unfold it it’ll have a few words, written in a scrawl: Charlie’s, 6:30 PM, tonight.

It’ll pique your curiosity, and rightly so. The cute girl who handed it to you was, for all you know, psychic. And it sounds like she wants to see you again. You’ve never gotten a handjob from a psychic chick before, and it could be super hot (telekinesis anyone?).

You’ll cut out of work fifteen minutes early and still show up at Charlie’s a few minutes late, but there will be no sign of the girl. You’ll sigh and look at the note again before you saddle up to the bar to order yourself a drink.

Halfway through your watery beer a young woman will walk up and sit next to you. She’ll give you a look of vague recognition before she looks at a note, similar to yours. She’ll look a little familiar to you, too. Like you went to high school with her or something. The note will seal it, and you’ll speak up to her.

“Where did you get that note?” you’ll ask.

She’ll look at you like you’re crazy. “Why do you ask?”

You’ll pull out your matching note from the bus and her eyes will get a little wide. You’ll trade stories, and it’ll sound really similar. Same girl, same trick, same everything. This girl’s name will be Samantha. She’ll be pretty, but not in a way you’d notice right away. You’ll wonder if she’s gay, but after you each finish a round she’ll ask you to buy her a drink, and you’ll know what she means.

If you do it, the girl who gave you the note will walk away, wearing a fake beard. She was in the corner the whole time, watching you, making sure it all went off without a hitch. We can’t say how things will go with Samantha, but its worth a shot. And a great meet-cute story, to boot.

If you don’t buy her the drink she’ll smile, nod, stand up and leave. The girl who left you the note will follow right behind her, out the door and into the unknown. We can only assume that she caught Samantha as she left and took her home (Samantha was totally bi). Four beers later that night you’ll ride home alone and go to bed alone. You’ll awake when a coven of witches haul you out of your bed to use your body to summon a demon. You’ll die when your torso is pierced by Bael’rog’s barbed phallus.

We’ll let you figure out how it all fits together. We all just think you should buy her the drink, though. She’s pretty cute. And what could go wrong?

Either way, congratulations on losing five dollars.