My Crazy Stupid, One Day Off

Chapter 2

Ow.

Ow ow

Ow ow ow

owowowowowowowow

This is stupid. Stupid Dick. Stupid lackeys. Stupid incapable of finding me in a timely fashion co-workers. Stupid kidnap-me-on-my-day-off-asshole. Goddammit.

Footsteps sound through the hallway once more. Ugh they're coming back. They fucking BETTER have a goddamn taco with 'em, or I swear on a fucking cupcake I will stab a bitch.

The door opens and enters Richard McDickshit followed by Dum and Dumble.

"Afternoon, Danny" Rick the Dick says cheerily

"Afternoon, Rick."

"How are you today?"

"Not great, I have been worse."

"Oh really?" he says with concern filling his face

"When you set the dogs loose," I said nodding toward Hank and James, "Did you honestly think I was gonna get out scott free? If you did, you're a stupid."

A look of pained guilt flashed over his face before he covered it up with a nonchalant smirk, he turned to face Hank, leaning in he began to whisper something in his ear, Hank's growing smile was 100 watts. Shit. Richard smiled eerily at me, before turning on his heel and walking out with a quick "Have fun!" slamming the door shut behind him.

Oh you asshole.

Hank leaned over to James whispering the dreaded instructions in his ear. James' eyebrows raised, "Really?", "Yep."

Okay, now just what is this big reveal shit?

James went towards the wall and began ruffling around before turning back with a recording camera,

"Smile for the camera Ms.Stone! We're filming live!"

What?

"What?"

"Live! Say hello to your friends!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yep!"

I turn to face the camera and raise my eyebrow. This makes no sense, like really? This is it? C'mon man, I wanted explosions and shit.

"Uh," cough, "Hey, guys?"

James walked over to my gym bag, which had been thrown to the wall, most probably when these ass-shits kidnapped me. He zips it open and begins to dig through my clothes,

"Oi! Dimble, out my bag!"

He continues on as if he heard nothing, and at this point, I might as well go along with it,

"Ugh, fine then, carry on my wayward son."

This garners an indignified snort out of Hank, who by now had set up a laptop, and looked to be on Skype.

Wait. What?

I look back, and to my utter and utmost confusion, Hank is making a Skype account.

Fucking weirdos. Fucking looney, the lot of 'em.

Not like you aren't a couple screws loose

Oh fuck off me.

Hank finished setting up the Skype account, turned to face the camera and said,

"Ya'll better set-up a Skype account now, or I'll shoot her."

James lets out a victorious breath as he straightens his back, he turns around, and in his hand is my gun.