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This is an Unexpected Bump for Sure -- 25
Submitted by Dale M. Cannon on Tue, 10/20/2009 - 11:45
Boy is it dark!
Boy is it dark!
I sense a presence in front of me – or – my sense of smell senses the presence – and boy does it sense it – phew!
“Here’s food,” the presence says, taking the gag off, and thrusts a spoon full of something into my mouth – my sense of taste then kicks in and receives a sense similar to the sense of smell – eeeccchhh!!!
Then the voice that makes me cringe. “Well, my friend, have you reconsidered? You are in no position to resist us, you know.” He’s right in front of my face now – he smokes bad cigars. I’m about to puke. He takes the blindfold off.
I see reflection of the beach in his glasses and try to turn my head to see behind me.
“I am sorry if my presence has disturbed you, my friend. It can be a whole lot less disturbing if you will cooperate.”
“Take him!” He says to someone else. The chair is lifted and I am carried somewhere. They set me down is a dark, empty room with one stark bulb hanging from the ceiling. I’m scared, thinking maybe that my door is in the room we left. I mean, I don’t have any pockets to put it in.
The voice that makes me cringe is in front of my face again. There’s a face with it, dark, scraggly, thinning, curly hair, horn-rimmed glasses as thick as they can be, dimpled chin with coarse scrub of beard, thick, red lips, sideburns.
“You can talk, my friend, or I can make you talk – which is it, my friend?” I retch – the smell is too much for me. He backs away and laughs at my puke covered body.
“Clean him!” He orders.
Buckets of water are poured over me. I think of the scene in Flashdance.
“Now – a question it is not: ‘Will you talk?’ – a statement it is: ‘You will talk’. Do you understand, my friend?”
“Do I know you?” I ask, wondering if we had met somewhere before since he keeps calling me, “my friend”.
He slaps me. Ouch!
“Such insolence will only get you more pain,” he says, and he moves to slap me again. But I’m blinked back to the beach with the bright sunshine. Blink back again.
“Ouch!” the voice says, and I see him rubbing his hand. “You have some hard bones.”