Episode Two: Matt Dremer

It. It was horrifying.

It stated innocently enough. A rather graceful dying-swan fall in the entrance of a museum. The hairgelled greeter asks if I'm okay. Leesa and I were too busy laughing. Eventually, joking about euthanasia and other wonderful remidies gave way to us actually leaving. What we didn't figure out at the time, was the intense power of CREEPER MATT. We were fooled. We though, "hey, he's just another awkward twenty-year-old-dude with too much hairgel" and went on our merry way. We exchange quips with him whenever we pass.

Little did we know. Oh, how ignorant we were.

As we wait for Brandii to get done with work, we sit at the cafe-part of the job, open and near the entrence with the greeters. He walks towards us, and starts talking. Something about a little hand pulling at his coattails as he tried giving directions. He procedes to DEMONSTRATE the hand-on-lower-back- thing, and smiles freeze and goosebumps of creeped-out raise up. He then compares the THREE YEAR OLD GIRL to a PLAYBOY MODEL.

He leaves. Leesa and I look at each other, weirded out. Oh, but he keeps coming back to talk to us. The conversations get WORSE. Opera. Gloved hands in nooks and crannies. How thongs reduce cellulite. When he works. Glass underwear. "Manscaping". Three guess who didn't bring this shit up? I craved pepper spray. This isn't even the full extent of everything he said. I won't delve any farther into manscaping, but it was discussed by it, extensivly. I held an umbrella in front of me for most of the encounters, ready to stab him with it given the oppertunity. Of course, he isn't hitting on Leesa. Oh, no. He's hitting on me. Death would be kinder. Matt Dremer, go die in a fire. DIE.

MEWO: The memories still burn. Need to scrub at self until any residue of IT is gone.