She bent to sat down, her shirt unbuttoned to reveal just too much. Her red, billowy hair covered her face. When she sat, her majestic beauty was all too apparent. Her eyebrows formed two perfect arches above her round, blue eyes. Her nose, about as good as noses get, had a small little scar on the very tip. I sat, admiring, when she spoke.
“How can you help me?” she said, as if giving as son advice on life.
“How, uh…” I snapped back to attention, “How can I help you?”
“I’ve been depressed,” she started, “I’ve felt the world is completely futile, unneeded. At 12:00 today there may or not be an… hdjfhghduattackhumfmuhfrcivilizationuhmffdestroy.”
I drowned out her talking, only certain words popped out at me…. Attack, Civilization, Destroy. Her voice was not the most attractive in the world, though the same might not be said for her body. I brought myself back to the riddle: he slid the window open, and jumped through it…. Suddenly, realization hit me like an abusive father.
“He was a window washer!”