Well, I've done it at last. I sent in my application to the computer dating service. It shouldn't be too hard to match me up with someone. I'm a pretty normal guy. I'm only worried with my answer to one question. For "Hobbies," I put down "destroying civilization as we know it." I hope, dear diary, that they won't think I'm bragging.
THREE WEEKS LATER
Still no word from the dating service. I can't understand it. But I think I'll get a date soon. They seemed very cooperative after I threatened to reduce their building and everyone it in to a charred, smoking mass.
I called my computer date tonight. Her mother answered the phone. She didn't get my name, but she must have known who I was because I heard her yell "Helen, ya got a heavy breather on the phone here!" We're all set for tomorrow night. I'll pick her up at 7:30. I'm so excited! I wonder if she enjoys setting fire to small planets as much as I do.
What an evening! When Helen, my date, answered the door and saw me for the first time, she went pale with delight and her knees went weak. Then she came to. She said she'd asked the dating service for someone tall, dark, and with an air of mystery, but that this was ridiculous! I wonder, dear diary, what she meant?
She went to get her sweater, and I chatted with her parents. I didn't like her dad much, so I vaporized him. Helen's mom didn't have much to say. She just made a few gurgling sounds. I said it had been a pleasure meeting her, and left the house with her daughter.
I asked Helen where she wanted to go. She suggested a movie. But after I choked her a little, she decided that a raiding party would be much more fun. Diary, she's so cute when she's blue and gasping!
Well, dear diary, we took off in my space probe, and I must say, Helen is a good sport. When I hit hyperspace without telling her first, she was only a little sick. Those cracked ribs will be fine in a couple weeks, too, so no hard feelings.
I took her to my favorite restaurant. Helen was a little overwhelmed by the ritzy atmosphere of the place. So I took great pains to introduce her to all my friends as they flopped, slithered, flew, and rolled over to our table.
She was speechless with gratitude. In fact, she was so excited that she couldn't eat a thing - even whe I offered to kill it first.
After supper, dear diary, I cut loose and showed Helen what a really good time is. I must have laid waste to at least 30 thriving civilizations throughout the galaxy! What a blast!
Helen didn't say much on the way home, dear diary, but I think I knew how she felt. She kept staring deep into my vents and saying "I don't believe this!" over and over again. What a gal!
When we said good night at her place, I thought about giving her a good-night kiss. But I felt it was too soon to risk electrocuting her yet. We shook hands. Hers were shaking a lot.
I'll never forget her parting words, dear diary. She said, "Thanks, Bart. See you around." I told her my name was Darth. "Right," she said. "Anything you say."
I told her I'd call again soon. And I promised that next time we'd play "Pop Goes the Planet." Funny, dear diary, but she didn't seem too enthusiastic. She just put her hand over her mouth, ran inside, and slammed the door.
ONE MONTH LATER
I've called and called, but Helen never seems to be at home. In fact, her phone number must have changed 15 times! This last time, the telephone operator told me that Helen left a message that she'd moved to a different universe.
Was it something I said?