When Andrew woke up, he no longer found himself in the room on Amanda's second floor. Instead, before his eyes were objects hung like the toys in a baby crib, except that instead of children's toys floating in front of him, they were adult toys of explicit nature. Women's adult toy.

The toys were pink. The ceiling was pink. Andrew sat up on his bed, and saw the bed is also a rosy pink. He called out to Joddy, Amanda, and Howard. No one answered. There wasn't a single sound in the room. No birds chirping from the trees. No car honking in the distance. No friendly Canadian neighbor walking around apologizing to others.

He looked at the clock on the walls and saw it striked two. Have I slept for seventeen hours?

He thought to himself that something was not right, but then dismissed that idea. It wasn't simply 'not right'. He was very, very fucked.

To him, pink was never a peaceful color.

Andrew rushed out of the bed and to the nearby window, gazing at the bungalows on the other side resting their backs against a thicklet.

This isn't Canada, thought Andrew. The houses look like they're affordable.

Was I kidnapped? How did I not know a thing?

His confusion gave way for panic. He had to get out of there.

His sweat ran through his body as the thought came to him. He rushed to the wooden door and twisted the doorknob only to realize it was locked. He tried to knocking on the woods, jerking the doorknob, and even slamming his body against the door. It refused to budge.

I must use my full strength.

Andrew took five steps backward, huffing and puffing as he pressed his feet on the floor. He charged forward.

The door flung open. Andrew rammed his head into the person who opened the door, and both of them fell to the ground. A sharp pang jolted from his shoulder to the tip of his fingers, and he jumped back from the pain.

"I-I'm so sorry," he said Canadianly. "I didn't mean to. . ."

When he looked to the left, he realized the cause of the sharp pain he was feeling: the spike of a baseball attached to his shoulder, and the whole bat pointed skyward. Iwanma DickInSon's bat.

"Long time no see~ How's my cutiepie doing?" A woman's voice resounded.

The pain from hearing that sugar-coated voice hit harder than any physical pain Andrew had to endure. He felt like he just died a thousand times over.

Pink Anne.

***

"Andrew~ Where are you?"

The petite pink-haired girl laid on the massage chair with a satisfied smile on her face, her eyes covered with cucumber slice, her hand shaking a small bell. Every time the noise 'ding ding' resouned, Andrew had to run to her like a hustling servant. Her house was as big as Davide Backhem's mansion, yet the sound of the bell could be heard from every corner.

He ran over with a cup of kale and cucumber juice served on a plate, putting it on the table next to where Anne was laying.

"Why are you so slow? Don't you have time for me?"

"O-of course I do."

"Wrong answer." She frowned. "What did I teach you to say?"

"If a day only has twenty four hours and you need my attention for twenty five hours, I'll shift time and space for you."

"Good boy! I made your favorite dish for you, Andrew~ Tofu salad with a side of masochism. Now go clean my weapon collection for me before we head for dinner. We'll have some fun with them later on." Anne hummed. Colors slowly drained from Andrew's face with each word she said.

Andrew walked over to Anne's bedroom and opened the wardrobe, revealing an array of weapons of all shapes and sizes on the top row, from traditional katanas to grenades to rocket launchers. On the bottom row were sex toys, from Thing Andrew Didn't Want to See #1 to Thing Andrew Didn't Want to See #69.

Living with Anne, he felt like a subhuman. Everyday, he had to pleasure her and the collection that she loved almost as much as he loved him. Normally he wouldn't complain when he kissed a pretty girl, but of course if that girl was anyone but Anne. When Andrew was in college, there was a girl named Sylvia, who was sweet as a sugarcane and made him cupcakes every day. Then the next day Anne moved to the same class as Sylvia, and from then on he never saw the cute cupcake girl again. Whenever Andrew thought about what could've happened to her, he felt a chill down his spine.

While wiping a large mace, he muttered, "I wonder if I'll go back in the loop if I bash that wretched witch with this."

"Andrew~" Anne's voice rang out from afar. "What did you just say?"

"N-nothing! I am just confessing to this mace about my eternal love for you. . ."

"Good boy. You will spend time with me forever, will you?"

"Of course!" He said while gritting his teeth. This bitch. Just you wait. I'm Andrew Garage, the Chosen One. I'm not afraid of some college girl. I'll kill you with my own two hands—

He gripped the mace a little bit hard, and the mace ball fell from the handle, making a clank as it hit the ground.

Immediately came the growl from the other room. "What the fuck did you just do to my baby?"

To Andrew's dismay, Anne stormed over to her bedroom. Her face flushed red, her eyes were stained with a hue of madness. Andrew shuddered. So this is how I die.

"What the fuck did you do?" She grunted.

"Baby, I-I can explain!"

"You murdered my baby! Now you feel pain. Now you all feel pain."

Suddenly, the sky outside the window darkened. He panickedly looked outside and discovered that his longtime 'friend' had suddenly returned.

"The meteor?"

Andrew finally understood. He turned to look at Anne; his eyes filled with horror.

The meteor is summoned by Pink Anne.