Intern’s Log: Oh Holy Casey Jones, Our Lady of the Railroad, Save Me from These Women

  Date: Redacted

  Intern ID: Reynolds, J. (I have seen things, and I am afraid.)

  I made a mistake.

  A terrible, terrible mistake.

  I went home.

  I went to dinner.

  I met the woman my mother picked for me.

  And now?

  Now I am trapped.

  Not just by my government-imposed travel restrictions.

  Not just by my mother’s overwhelming enthusiasm.

  But by the absolute, undeniable, apocalyptic realization that I am surrounded by terrifyingly competent, suspiciously invested women who are all conspiring against me.

  Phase One: The Dinner of Doom

  It started innocently enough.

  My mom greeted me at the door with that smile—the one that says, "You are already in my trap, my son, and you don’t even know it yet."

  "Oh, sweetheart, you look so tired! You should take better care of yourself!"

  That was Red Flag #1.

  Then she ushered me inside, where the table was already set, candles were lit, and soft music was playing.

  That was Red Flag #2.

  And then I saw her.

  The woman my mother and her matchmaking cult had chosen.

  And I immediately knew I was in trouble.

  Phase Two: The Woman, The Myth, The Threat to My Sanity

  Her name was Eleanor.

  ? Tall. (WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS TALL?!)

  ? Wore glasses. (The kind that made her look like she already knew everything about me.)

  ? Had the confident, calm smile of a woman who could dismantle my entire existence in under five minutes.

  ? Polished, professional, and, worst of all—prepared.

  Because the moment we sat down, she started asking questions.

  Not normal first-date questions.

  Not "What do you do for fun?" or "What’s your favorite movie?"

  No.

  She asked strategic questions.

  Questions that implied she had already been briefed.

  "So, Reynolds, your mother tells me you work in government research. That must be fascinating."

  That was a test shot.

  "I imagine you see all sorts of classified things. Must be stressful keeping so many secrets."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  That was probing for weaknesses.

  "I hear you’ve been very busy lately. Traveling? Or has work been keeping you grounded?"

  THAT WAS A TRAP.

  I broke into a cold sweat.

  Because she knew.

  She KNEW I wasn’t allowed to leave the state.

  Which meant she knew WHY.

  Which meant SOMEONE TOLD HER.

  And there are only two possible suspects.

  Phase Three: The Betrayal

  My Mother.

  She has access to my life.

  She has no sense of operational security.

  She has been waiting for grandchildren for YEARS.

  Vicky.

  She has access to EVERYTHING.

  She enjoys watching me suffer.

  She literally told me "stability is good for a man" before walking off with a smirk.

  Either way, I have been set up.

  And Eleanor is no ordinary date.

  She is an agent of chaos in a deceptively calm package.

  Because every time I tried to deflect, she tilted her head slightly and said:

  "You don’t have to be so guarded, Reynolds. I’m very good at keeping secrets."

  I AM IN DANGER.

  Phase Four: The Horror Deepens

  At some point—I don’t know when—I reached for my water glass.

  And out of the corner of my eye, I saw it.

  A tail.

  Not Eleanor’s.

  Not mine (obviously).

  No.

  It was outside the window.

  A single, golden-red tail flicking out of sight.

  I froze.

  Because there is only one person that tail belongs to.

  VICKY.

  SHE.

  IS.

  WATCHING.

  AND SHE IS ENJOYING THIS.

  Phase Five: The Prayer to Our Lady of Train Wrecks

  At this point, my only option was divine intervention.

  Oh Holy Casey Jones, Our Perpetual Saint of Train Wrecks, Our Lady of the Railroad, deliver me from these women.

  I cannot win.

  I cannot run.

  I cannot escape.

  This is a conspiracy.

  The government wants me contained.

  My mother wants me married.

  Vicky wants… something.

  And Eleanor?

  Eleanor wants answers.

  And I am out of excuses.

  Final Thoughts (I Am DOOMED)

  ? My vacation is a farce.

  ? I am being matchmade against my will.

  ? Vicky is watching everything and clearly enjoying my suffering.

  ? Eleanor is scarily competent and I cannot outmaneuver her.

  ? I am one bad conversation away from this turning into a permanent situation.

  I don’t know what happens next.

  But I know this:

  Vicky, Eleanor, and my mother are all playing the long game.

  And I?

  I am completely and utterly outmatched.

  End Log.