Here I was sitting at my favorite park bench again. (If you’ve read my other epic tales and are starting to get sick of stories that start on park benches, too bad. Park benches are legit. There is ZERO opportunity for shady illegal activities to happen around, above, below, and under park benches. Trust me).

I was studying the nature around me, Berry in hand (Black of course). I was watching the comings and goings of 513 people, 512 of whom I had no interest in outside of the world of TwitterBerry. I was a well-connected, socially satisfied upper-class elite whose blog was excellent and his email stuffed fuller than his wallet.

I then looked around and observed a moving mass coming toward me. I had no clue whether he was carbon-based yet. It might just be a tree, or perhaps a really big yeti. Or Bigfoot. Any of those three were fine with me.

Danger bells were going off in my head. This form seemed to be alive. I quickly pulled out my GPS tracking system and pointed it at him surreptitiously. The data was not good. I was quickly able to determine that a human was coming my way. Judging by his facial expressions, he didn’t get lost on his way to the ice cream stand. He was here to come and talk to me.

I was well prepared for such emergencies, let me tell you that. I quickly put on iPod headphones, deluxe Bose Wave noise canceling headphones, and then topped it off with some sturdy hunting earmuffs.

I put a book inside an encyclopedia and then rolled up my reading materials in a tube built of magazines.

So now I looked busy, right? He shouldn’t dare to disturb me now! As an extra precaution though, I took out ten lattes. Faking being busy is hard work, ya Digg — er, dig?

He stood over my shoulder. I was torn between fear of him discovering anything personal about me, so I read Twilight. I mean, everyone has read that, right? Still, I swear I heard him twittering err… LAUGHING in the background. The only thing that kept me going was the hope of blogging about this and reaching the front page of a Google search for “creepy encounters with possible zombies”.

Three hours later, I was had gone past the point of no return. I had finished all of my lattes and had now read the same description of how hot Edward was more times in a row than is good for any straight man. By this time I was considering myself as a possible zombie, which usually doesn’t bode well for your mental state.

Finally, I took down my layers of defense one by one until I was completely and utterly unoccupied and ready for idle chit-chat. I turned around apprehensively.

Damn, she was pretty hot! I might’ve given her one of my lattes and added her on Facebook!

The bad thing was, she didn’t seem too human either.

“Nature’s calling!” she announced in a vapory voice, then vanished.

She was right. Luckily there was a bathroom nearby.