After a few minutes of talking, and waiting for Stacy to come downstairs, I was startled by a loud "WUMP". Before I could comment, lumbering down the stairs was the largest girl I have ever seen. Now, before you get all judgmental on me, let me clarify: I am not that picky about looks, and would date an overweight girl. But this was different. This girl was just under 6 feet tall, and almost as wide. She could not have weighed less than 540 lbs. She arrived at the bottom of the stairs, contorted her face into a smile, and in the deepest voice I have ever heard, she said, "Hello, I am Stacy". I almost fainted. After regaining my composure and realizing that I had no choice but to go out with this poor girl, we said good-bye to her parents walked out of the house. As we approach the car, she says to me, "Aaron, I have this phobia of being driven by someone I do not know. Can I please drive""

I started mumbling something about how I didn't think it would be a good idea, but she just stared at me and commanded "GIVE ME THE KEYS". If you saw the way this girl was glaring at me, you would have done what I did - just handed her the keys. She unlocked the car door and swung it open with such force, I thought it would fly off. When she settled into the seat of this small Volvo, in addition to filling the entire driver's seat, she took up most of the passenger's seat as well. I had no choice but to sit in the back.

So there I was, sitting in the backseat, my mind lost, wondering how I got myself into this situation. My thoughts were interrupted by Stacy's gruff voice. "We're going to Box Tree," she announced, referring to one of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan. I didn't even try arguing. I just sat still, hoping for a car accident.

After 40 minutes of driving, accompanied by Stacy's monologue (which I won't bother boring you with - but I will tell you that she has a great memory for play-by-play of professional paint-drying tournaments), we arrived at the restaurant. After being seated, the menus arrived, and I braced myself for the worst. The waiter came, and she ordered incredible amounts of food. My eyes racing across the menu as she read off the items, I realized that I might have to use more than one credit card for this one. When she finished reading, she announced, "That's for him, I already ate." All she asked for herself was a small salad. I sat in my seat, my brain doing summersaults inside my head. Stacy continued de-entertaining me with her insights on ceiling tile construction while we waited. When the food finally arrived, she commanded, "EAT". Again that glaring look. I had no choice. As I forced myself to consume several steaks, pastas, and vegetable dishes, she continued to eye me while slowly eating her salad. When I finally finished all the food, she let me excuse myself. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. I never felt sicker. I returned to the table, paid for over $700 worth of food, and we left. We got into the car, and I fell asleep (again in the backseat). I woke up some time later as the car jerked to a halt. I looked around and noticed that we were not in the city anymore. We were in a wooded area, which I assumed was somewhere in Upstate New York. She then exited the car, opened my door, and said "OUT". I slowly climbed out, still feeling sore and sick. Wondering what exactly she was up to, I closed the car door, and started to ask, but she just hopped back into the car, and raced off. I am writing this with the last of my strength. Please post this letter in a public place. Give me the grace of a hero's death.