She didn't know it yet, but I had what she was missing.
Me? The name's Ten Inch Dark Star Gong. My Great Grand-Dad was Chinese somewhere in Asia. That's where I got the name Gong, but really, I was born somewhere in the universe that Einstein took some time off from living to describe. Me, I don't need to take time off, I just live. And sometimes to keep living life in the round, you've got to have secrets tucked away in your corner. As I sidled up next to the red-hair at the bar, I could already tell from her vibe that she was someone I could talk to. I asked her what she was drinking.
She answered, "It's a secret."
"That sounds delicious," I smiled. "Make mine a double."
"Pace yourself, Slugger," she tossed back. "Lets save some mystery for the honeymoon."
"Don't you worry, darling," I said as I sipped. "I've got some plot twists even I don't understand."
Before we knew it, both of us were overcome with the rumbling of our ice cubes and the reflections of the lights. I told her about being a 10 Dark Star Gong. I told her about the complimentary mallet that I always carried with me. It wasn't long until she heard my song, my deep and clear note, which is more profound than my small diameter would lead you to think. I asked to share with me her secrets, but she wouldn't. "I ain't the FBI. I ain't taking you to jail." She finally relented, after I tickled her a little (after I asked permission). And we realized our secrets weren't all that scary, at least not to us. A gong, and a lady with a head on her shoulders.