It's pretty...easy, actually.

Paparazzi, anchors, fans,...lots of people and lots of vehicles made you look like a tiny ant trying to get out of this fucked-up community. And it's always everyone's favorite ant that got step on.

Along the ride, you caught a handkerchief from one of them letting it fly, probably towards a fan but unfortunately tangling itself into your glass.

...It feels nice.

"Hey, pal. That's mine!" Out of the windows, you turn around to see an overly makeover-covered face sprouting cringy words. "I'm the one whom Belle has chosen!"

The guy obviously has so many high energy going on inside him that it's freaking you out. You swear you can almost see the doki-doki beating of the heart inside his eyes. And the worst part is, he is staring right at you!

'Bad touch for you, mate.' You think, tossing his treasure away.

"NOOOO, BELLLEEE!!!! Guards! Anyone! Please get it before it got tampered with those shameful dirts!"

Dramatic asshole, you can't find yourself to blame him. Poor guy would never know the truth unless he got turned into one of them. You begin to shiver at the thought of him transforming into the lowest degree of drag queen. You shut it immediately and instead focus on driving.

...

After a solid 20-minute-drive, you finally arrive at the salon...or a spa. You can't put a finger on these places, after all you're not a woman.

Shit! You forgot about this crucial part. How the hell are you gonna follow them into the place that only for women??? There is so much shit going on in here, you can't afford to go and buy a bugging device.

Should you wait until tonight to make your move?

Written by Faith Romeyer

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