Here’s the most recent installment of Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels. A designated page with the full story puts the pieces in order.
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Eugene exited elevator #2. With a complete lack of situational awareness that was one of his more normal attributes, he missed several warning signs; the empty lobby, the beautiful woman draped in a chair, and the two goons which approached from either side.
Twenty harrowing seconds later he had a sack over his head, his briefcase had been taken, he’d been zip tied (hands and feet), and he’d been hurled into the back of a van. (In reality, he’d been carefully tossed onto a pile of laundry arranged for just such a purpose. Velma had spent hours instructing Goons in the fine art of abduction without injury.
He was well aware millionaires are sometimes kidnapped but it’s so much scarier than you’d think! Remembering all movies with a similar situation, he concentrated on clues; as if that somehow mattered. The bag wasn’t stuffy burlap… it was velour and well vented. The zip ties were wide and not cutting into his hands. Nobody’d hit him or drugged him yet. From this he assumed it was a kidnapping for money and not an out and out murder scheme. He found himself shockingly unconcerned. If they took all his money? Meh. It would just reduce his chances of a gold digger attack and painful divorce later. Eugene was lonely and sick of his job; violent and possibly murderous kidnappers were a welcome change to his routine.
He tried to concentrate on the vehicle’s motion. Tires were screeching, he was swaying to and fro. They were obviously blasting through traffic like bad guys in a James Bond movie! (What he didn’t know was that Velma had arranged this. She’d ordered the Goons to toss Eugene in the hotel’s laundry truck and “drive around like angry idiots” for 45 minutes.) Eugene counted and guessed left and right turns for about 15 minutes before he admitted he’d no idea where he was. (In reality he was two blocks from the hotel zooming around a WalMart parking lot.) This was all part of Velma’s “softening” procedure.
“Should we smack him around a bit?” Goon #1 asked Goon #2. They were actual traditional mafia goons and as such felt they were a cut above the rabble of street thugs and regular criminals. For example, they wore suits. A dude in a suit is better than a thug in Reeboks. It’s simple math. It seemed a waste of effort to abduct someone without a good old-fashioned beating. They simply wanted to deliver fair value to their employer.
“Remember what she said?” Goon #2 complained. “One broken bone and we get nothing. Gotta’ have all his fingers and everything.”
Eugene breathed a sigh of relief.
“Stupid restrictive rules of engagement!” Goon #1 groused.
“What can I say, people these days are unreasonable.” Goon #2 agreed. He consulted his checklist; drive around like angry idiots was first on the list. Done! Next came this; discuss amongst each other your desire to kick his ass, but point out that I forbid it, do this within his range of hearing. Ha! That was done too. The lady could read minds. What was next? List item #3: Strap the FitBit to his ankle, use duct tape.
He clambered into the back, ripped off a shoe, and cinched on what looked like a modified FitBit. It had a highly modified strap and the strap had a large external battery sewn in a pocket. It was something like a court ordered monitoring bracelet. He chuckled, like those things worked! Everyone knew “a guy” that could defeat such a device. Well, except maybe a Poindexter like the dude they’d just captured. He glanced at him with a clinical eye. The idiot was hopeless and weak. Conscientious employee that he was, he used 20’ of good quality duct tape to make sure it wouldn’t come off… ever.
Eugene whimpered a bit during the process and Goon #2 hammed it up. “I think I’ll cut his foot off. Why not?”
Goon #1 joined in “Nah, just fit him for cement shoes. The old ways are the best.”
In every workplace there is a camaraderie. Goon #2 was older and more experienced, he felt kindness and benevolence toward recently hired Goon #1. The younger man was coming along under his mentorship. The two of them had become friends over the last few “jobs”. Of course, Goon #2 would toss him off a bridge if so instructed; but it probably wouldn’t come to that. In this way, there was far less hostility in their “workplace” than most offices.
Back in the front seat he crossed off another line from the list. Only one left. He cringed.
Some forms of cruelty just ‘aint right. That woman was a demon on earth. Goon #2 had performed various colorful felonies at the behest of an array of utterly reprehensible people. (Once, during his lowest, most regrettable time, he’d even worked for a Senator.) But he never feared them. People are just people; even the ones that might try to kill you. That said, he was truly afraid of Velma. Unlike Goon #1, he’d worked with her before. He saw what happened to the men (it wasn’t always men, but usually) with whom she interacted. The hollow shells that emerged were completely changed. When, in the course of his usual business, he interacted with someone, they might end up dead… but he never tore down a personality and totally rebuilt a new creation from the rubble! He had limits; he might be a Goon but she was a goddamn terror.
He reached into the glovebox as instructed. He retrieved the package. He sighed. The poor bastard…
He looked at Goon #1, who had no idea what the rest of the day would hold. Some things, once seen, cannot be unseen. He shrugged and unwrapped the mix CD, stuffed it into the van’s stereo, and hit play.
List item #4: “Abba at full volume until I say stop.”
Goon #1 happily thumped the steering wheel as they rocketed around a cloverleaf leaving Eugene further disoriented. Eugene, hopeless and tied up, blindfolded, and kidnapped. Confused and baffled by whatever was strapped to his ankle, hopeless before the day, and likely to be dead by its end… began to tap his feet.
Goon #2 shook his head. Whatever that woman was up to… she was dangerous.
