A black object fell out.

By then Jane was screaming profanities at me. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming with her boobs out and I just realized how incredibly shaped it was. If I wasn't careful people would think I was the one **** her.

But I couldn't pay attention to her, because the black object looked very much like a phone, yet clearly wasn't and it was intriguing me. I picked it up and stared at it. In it I saw a bunch of code and lines with random strings and words. He looked like it had a receiver on it to receive sound. I somehow already knew that this situation was caused by a form of mind control and I was quite afraid to get caught in it. I didn't want to be crazy or forget how to behave properly.

But I had to fix Jane, because she was clearly mad at me and she doesn't understand what's so wrong about everything.

So I did the next crazy thing, using my knowledge of my own readings of erotica, and observing that the black object had no discernible way to type — I spoke into it.

"Jane you are no longer mad at me" I said plainly and clearly into the object.

"Oh you think by saying that, I'm still not mad at you? You can forget ever being friends Dillion, from now on, don't ever talk to me... ever, faggot!"

Shit. It didn't work. Maybe it somehow worked in a different way? I didn't have much time, she was already leaving the toilet.

"I'm no longer mad at Dillion" while I pointed the device at her.

She looked at me and gave a reasonable expression. "Actually, you know what, Dillion, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. . ." She paused and furrowed her brows. "Could you perhaps forgive me?"

I sheepishly looked at her in the men's toilet in our local mall with the black object pointing at her and said: "Of course Jane, anytime," with a big smile on my face.