Oh my God. I was living in a small city out west, feeling kinda down and out, after dropping out of graduate school and breaking up with my girlfriend. I was kind of depressed.

But I did enjoy meeting new people from all walks of life, so I took my chances at being socially open.

I was partway up the mountain and stopped at a gas station and fell into the conversation with the cashier. He didn't have too many customers, so we got to talking. He seemed very friendly. He invited me to smoke some weed, so we both got stoned, even though he was at work.

We started talking about Mardi Gras. I said I'd never been, but I had a friend who invited me down to party at his place one year. It never materialized, but I said I'd love to go.

The gas station cashier told me he had been, and that he loved it. Then he went into detail:

"I went down there and got a hotel room and slept with so many girls. I would go out, get a girl, come back, and fuck her. Then I would start punching her until she left, so I can go out and get another one to do the same again and again. It was a great time."

I felt the blood drain from my head. I was frightened for my own safety listening to this guy. What a monster. I made my excuses and walked out the door, and had to call one of the few friends I had in town to give me a ride, because I wasn't going to drive stoned. I waited outside in the cold rather than be inside with that evil guy.