"kidnapped," an of montreal fanfic.
It was humid. The sky had broken apart during the late afternoon, and the remnants of its waste was pooled in the driveway in tiny, shoe-drowning lakes. Free from the burden of my occupation and left without a mode of entertainment for the next five hours (or until I finally succumbed to slumber), I picked up the phone from its handset. Do I know any actual people? I thought, my thumb running awkwardly over buttons 1, 2, and 3. Maybe not, I told myself. You kinda have a band, though.
Immediately, my mind raced. "I need to be unnecessarily distracting to someone that happens to have finals this week," I mumbled vaguely, startling a vagrant who had taken shelter on the front porch. The vagrant belched. It was a clear sign that I was allowed to return to logarithmically stalking my peers.
I searched my electronic directory, found the number I needed, then dialed.
Nothing. Straight to voice mail.
My heart gave a shudder. (I only know this because I happened to be recording my blood pressure at the same time, and I've been known to be irregular ever since I started taking those amphetamines.) There was only one explanation for the lack of an answer on the other end of the line.
I hung up and called Amber. "Ako?"
"Yes?"
I swallowed, terrified. "Chris has been kidnapped by Kevin Barnes."
A harsh silence ensued, followed by a series of strange and unidentifiable gurgling noises, the likes of which I could not understand but were undoubtedly revealed to directly benefit our mission. "Ako, are you still there?"
Amber blew an affirmative raspberry into the telephone's receiver. "Damn right, I am. I've got the teleporters ready. Just give me the sign and I'll fire them up."
I tilted my head. My hair rustled against the phone. "Can you teleport me to where you are?" I asked breathily, ignoring the propriety of grammar altogether.
"No."
A pause. "Well, okay."
-- four months later --
"I'm here. What have you found?"
Amber stroked an imaginary goatee on her chin, then viciously ripped the head off an unroasted marshmallow Peep and consumed it, eyes and all. Wow, I sighed. Looks like it hasn't just been hard on me. "Any news?" I urged.
She folded her arms. "I think I've found him."
"Where is he?"
"No idea." She fired up the teleporters. "Step inside."
-- two years later --
"Thank God you guys found me! I thought I was doomed forever to be a noncon entry in the Gallery Piece Reality Club."
"It's good to have you back, Chris. It really is. Hey! Why do you have a beard?"
"No reason ..."
"No, really! I mean, you have a beard, and you totally didn't before."
The sky darkened. The lightning illuminated the threshold but for a few vital moments. Chris, his demeanour utterly changed, gave a single, low chuckle.
"Trust me, I had my reasons. Had a dress for every season, it was worth it."
Amber screamed.
I knew it all along.
Immediately, my mind raced. "I need to be unnecessarily distracting to someone that happens to have finals this week," I mumbled vaguely, startling a vagrant who had taken shelter on the front porch. The vagrant belched. It was a clear sign that I was allowed to return to logarithmically stalking my peers.
I searched my electronic directory, found the number I needed, then dialed.
Nothing. Straight to voice mail.
My heart gave a shudder. (I only know this because I happened to be recording my blood pressure at the same time, and I've been known to be irregular ever since I started taking those amphetamines.) There was only one explanation for the lack of an answer on the other end of the line.
I hung up and called Amber. "Ako?"
"Yes?"
I swallowed, terrified. "Chris has been kidnapped by Kevin Barnes."
A harsh silence ensued, followed by a series of strange and unidentifiable gurgling noises, the likes of which I could not understand but were undoubtedly revealed to directly benefit our mission. "Ako, are you still there?"
Amber blew an affirmative raspberry into the telephone's receiver. "Damn right, I am. I've got the teleporters ready. Just give me the sign and I'll fire them up."
I tilted my head. My hair rustled against the phone. "Can you teleport me to where you are?" I asked breathily, ignoring the propriety of grammar altogether.
"No."
A pause. "Well, okay."
-- four months later --
"I'm here. What have you found?"
Amber stroked an imaginary goatee on her chin, then viciously ripped the head off an unroasted marshmallow Peep and consumed it, eyes and all. Wow, I sighed. Looks like it hasn't just been hard on me. "Any news?" I urged.
She folded her arms. "I think I've found him."
"Where is he?"
"No idea." She fired up the teleporters. "Step inside."
-- two years later --
"Thank God you guys found me! I thought I was doomed forever to be a noncon entry in the Gallery Piece Reality Club."
"It's good to have you back, Chris. It really is. Hey! Why do you have a beard?"
"No reason ..."
"No, really! I mean, you have a beard, and you totally didn't before."
The sky darkened. The lightning illuminated the threshold but for a few vital moments. Chris, his demeanour utterly changed, gave a single, low chuckle.
"Trust me, I had my reasons. Had a dress for every season, it was worth it."
Amber screamed.
I knew it all along.