Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Kidnapped!!

I woke up this morning and I was pretty sure I had been abducted and left to rot in an Iraqi prison somewhere or maybe some kind of advanced cave or maybe Guantanamo Bay, because all the lights were on and I was completely disoriented and that can only mean one thing, that my career as an international sex symbol* / jewel thief had come to an end, because why else would they have the interrogation lights on me. And the first thing I got worried about was that I never did get around to looking up what "water-boarding" is and part of me hopes it's got something to do with being pulled behind a boat and doing radical jumps but I sorta doubt it and the other part of me is imagining a "pink belly"  but I don't know where the water comes into play except maybe they make you spray a fountain of water up into the air using your mouth while the torture guy slaps your stomach and if the stream falters than he gets to do it again, so I'm super glad I've been practicing my continuous mouth-water-squirting in the shower for pretty much my entire life. 

And then it dawns on me that I'm still in my clothes from yesterday so that's pretty gross, especially since I have a big smear of peanut butter and chocolate on this shirt and what the hell kind of blowgun dart did they hit me with because I don't even remember feeling the prick**or hear that cartoon "Shhhhwuuup!" sound, or stumbling around dramatically like I'm beyond drunk and everything goes in slow motion and sounds get all thick and like a record player set on the wrong speed. And then I crash dramatically into a lamp and it tips over but I fall down too and then I pass out.  

And then I see that my cell phone is next to my hand so these guys are either very not cautious about my calling for help and escaping, or else I'm somewhere where cell phones don't work and I start listing all those places in my head for a second but I quickly realize this isn't a bomb shelter because of the sunlight streaming through the big window over my head, and most bomb shelter don't have those and the carpeting is too nice to be a cave or inside the Lincoln Tunnel***.  And I'm all proud of myself for trying to be proactive like a guy whose been thrown in a trunk and thinks to listen to all the sounds as the car drives so that later, after he escapes, he can lead TJ Hooker or Manimal or whoever back to the kidnapper's hideout. I'm so glad I went to Genius Detective School.

And then I realize that I'm still lying in my bed and for a second I think about what kind of a fucked up kidnapper brings your whole bed back to their torture dungeon, especially mine because it is a bitch to get it down my steep and narrow staircase and I'm suddenly really impressed with my abductor's ingenuity and thoughtfulness, but maybe Stockholm Syndrome is already setting in , so I can't really trust those emotions now, can I?  And then I remember all the peanut butter cookies and the ice cream and Wow!  I wonder how the kidnappers knew I sugar crash so hard sometimes, they must be really clever and nefarious.  And then I look at my cell phone and I have a bunch of messages that say "Hey, You there?" and "Hello?" and then I finally figured out I had just fallen asleep with the lights on. Also without brushing my teeth, so my mouth pretty much tastes like an ashtray with IBS took a crap in it.  And don't ask me how an ashtray can contract IBS because I think it's genetic.


* At first I typed "sex cymbal" and then I spent a bunch of time imagining some mean clown who leaps in on unsuspecting couples right as they are about to achieve orgasm and crashes big cymbals together and then I think about what a dick that clown is. Because I don't know about you, but when I'm having an orgasm the second-to-last thing I want to see is some jackass in facepaint and with big floppy shoes crashing cymbals at me.  The last thing I want to see is a cop with a flashlight going "What are you doing in those bushes?"

** TWSS! TWSS!

** The Lincoln tunnel is a horrible location for a hideout, and if that's where I am then I am dealing with some real idiot kidnappers and I ought to be able to talk my way out of this one by offering them all the money in my bank accounts if they let me go, but HAHAHAHAHA joke's on them because the IRS seized all my bank accounts! Suckers!

20 comments:

Kristine said...

Nefarious! Nice!

Also, I'm giggling about the bushes. Like, the "what are you doing in those bushes" bushes.

You're taking me back, today Mr. Apathy, just like some old home videos. Except their more like surveillance videos.

I'm Nate's Mom said...

Way to rock the party, dad. Hope you're not nursing a Reeses®-induced hangover today.

Kristine said...

AH! I mean THEY'RE! gross.

Miss Yvonne said...

How do you know your kidnappers didn't take you during your sugar crash, molest you and then return you to your own bed? Hmmm???

Scandalous Housewife said...

Are you sure you weren't raped by an alien? Are your nipples pierced?

Mary@Holy Mackerel said...

Whoa. Get thee to a nunnery. Or a priestery. Or something, somewhere. I need to go lie down now. You scared me again.

Kurt said...

@Kristine: It is my winning combination of excellent vocabulary and mostly clean clothing that makes me an employer's dream.

@Nate's Mom: I've got a cookie hangover.

@Miss Yvonne: Because I'm not lucky. That's why.

@Scandy: No. They are hypnotic though. Also, aliens would never choose to abduct me over my Hillbilly Neighbor.

@Mary:I seem to be good at that.

sour said...

sex CYMBAL!!!!!!!!!! i can't get over that.

Vic said...

I hear the carpet inside the Lincoln Tunnel is really bad, like gold shag carpeting bad.

That's what they use on you when the water boarding doesn't work.

Are we keeping a "crashed into a lamp" tally?

Chelle said...

You could do like a homeless guy here does and write mediocre poetry on ripped up carboard and sell it in the street.

1. He got a book deal
2. People give him a LOT of money
3. HE got a book deal
4. I am jealous of that homeless jerk.

Kurt said...

@Sour: My Sex Cymbal status has that effect on people.

@Vic: The lamps in my house are pretty much used to all the crashing they are subjected to. I bought them at a Tony Scott estate sale.

@Chelle: Homeless people are so lucky.

Fandango said...

My life could use some sex cymbals...

Oh.. did I say that outloud?

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

Does your butthole feel thumby? If not, you're probably ok.

Anna Russell said...

You're like the Patti Hearst of peanut butter.

Char said...

I confess - it was me. I used the mind meld/teleporter method to put you back in almost the same condition as I found you.

Chelle said...

Oh to be a plucky homeless gal. Free to go thither and yon (within my territory of course, don't wanna get beaten up) with my backpack full of novelties and my character building crack addiction.

*sigh*

Peggy said...

Stockholm Syndrome made me LMAO and I would totally have it too if my kidnappers brought my bed. Unless they were aliens, then they can shove it for being so elusive and messing with our heads all these years!

TishTash said...

This morning I was late and told my boss it was because the Sandinistas kidnapped me but he told me I was lying, and he had me there.

So I'm sorry you had a rough morning, too.

Mona Lott said...

Happy belated 4/20:D

Frankenfinger said...

Sometimes I to have a hard crash from sugar...
that was extracted by enzymes from malted barley and then fermented into beer.
That dang old sugar.