This chapter is placed 2 weeks after Leonard escapes with his friends Mick and Sheldon...
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"Flying-squirrell-octopus-reindeer-the-mighty! Flying-squirrell-octopus-reindeer-the-mighty! Flying-squirrell-octopus-reindeer-the-mighty!Flying-squirrell-octopus-reindeer-the-mighty! Flying-squirrell-octopus-reindeer-the-mighty! Flying-squirrell-octopus-reindeer-the-mighty!"
I hear the crowds cheering my new name. It was just as I had imagined. I am now a symbol of it, and Panem is rebelling. It is finally happening. The Districts are protesting their unfair treatment, and I am seen as a brave hero, fighting to save my captured lover, Baguette."
"No, no, no." The director stops the cameras. "CUT!" The lights turn off and I hear the recorded cheers fading behind me. Due to the extremely low budget, every volt of electricity must be saved.
"That was all wrong!" The director sighs and removes his shoe, bending down to stroke his moustache. "His name is Pita. Like the bread." The director puts his shoe back on, blocking the moustache from view. You assume there is one on the other foot as well, but don't think it polite to ask.
"Oh. OK. I just thought that Baguette sounded like a better name for a person. Also, I never read 絜njuhgy7the book. I never even saw the movie."
"Well, ok. From the top. And please read the script this time?"
"Ok," You clear a throat (You assume that it's your own) and prepare to speak.
"I hear the crowds cheering my new name. It was just as I had imagined. I am now a symbol of it, and Panem is rebelling. It is finally happening. The Districts are protesting their unfair treatment, and I am seen as a brave hero, fighting to save my captured lover, English Muffin."
Just as you are about to launch into the movie's closing lumberjack/magician/kangaroo/ballet musical number, the door bursts open and fog pours through the door accompanied by coloured lasers. You hiccup in surprise and see the director throwing a bagel into the mist, whether by accident or on purpose, you may never know.
"COME ON MEN, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" A voice booms through speakers and all at once almost half a dozen men in full rubber hazmat suits rush into the room, pointing large guns full of radioactive plasm. They just stand there, looking sort of confused. At least they seem confused. You can't see their faces.
"Okay, Stan," one voice says. "Enough with the fog machine already."
"Yeah, it's a little much," another one says.
"Okay, okay," Stan steps to the front of the group and turns off the foggy contraption. "Just thought the situation could use a little extra... panache."
He removes his hat/mask/thingy and approaches the director.
"We're not actually a SWAT team or anything," he explains to the terrified directory guy, "There was just a little copyright mixup with your play. Anyway, changing a few of the names should sort it out, people are pretty stupid- I doubt they'd notice." He checks his watch. "You'd better come down to the interrogation room anyway."
You comply.
------------------TIME SKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE MOUNTAIN DEW PUPPY MONKEY BABY COMMERCIAL ()...... ---------------------------------------
Ten minutes later you are hanging by your ankles from the ceiling by purple wires. Director guy had been taken into an interrogation room three hours ago, so you are only waiting for another officer to come in and take you away. Suddenly you hear a soft voice behind you.
"Y/N, we're ready for you in interrogation room 887."
"AHHHHHHH NOOOOOO!!!! NOT ROOM 878!!!" You struggle frantically as the person in one of the hazmat suits grips you by the shoulders and yanks you out of the purple ropes.
"What is it?!" You can't see the face of the man carrying you to interrogation due to the tinted glass over the mask, but he appears to have six arms.
"887 is an unlucky number," you explain to the dude. "Can't we go into room 886, or something?"
"Ah, about that.... We only have one room besides this one. We just made it a really high number so people would think the station is super big. Its supposed to be intimidating or something. The policemen get more money based on how intimidated the victims seem."
He sees your unintimidated expression. "Although it doesn't look like I'll be earning much from the captain tonight."
You smile sympathetically. "Would it help if I did a bit of screaming?"
He shrugs. "Yep, probably. Thanks."
You shriek and yell all the way to room 886, where you jump off the spinny-chair that you had been transported in.
"Farewell, bruh."
"K, bye." He walks back down the hallway.
You step into room 886, and realise that it is quite small. There are two chairs facing each other, and you take a seat on one, realising that the other one is already occupied by a man in another hazmat suit with tinted glass.
"Hello. I guess you're interrogating me then, Mr....?"
"I don't have a last name."
"But I have to call you something."
"Well, you can just call me Mr. Spud. Now... Tell me about your life."
"Well Mr. Spud, it all started about a week ago..."
Mr. Spud rolls his eyes. "You're not about to do that flashback thing where the screen fades slowly to white, and mysterious piano music plays while you play scenes of your week in your head, is it?"
You stare at him. "Yes. Yes I am."
You continue. "Anyway, it all started a week ago when I got this job to distract me from my heartache over losing my boyfriend, Leonard. He had jumped out of my window after I rescued him from Alex, my gorilla boss. I was so overcome with grief it was all I could do to blink and eat Twinkies. One day, as I was preparing to consume my breakfast Twinkie- Fish 'n Chips flavoured- a pigeon flew through my window holding a note from director guy asking me to be a star in his movie, and then we were arrested. The end."
Mr. Spud considers you thoughtfully.
"Well," he says, "I don't know about the Twinkie issue, but I have been considering a few things in the past day or two, and I realized that I've been overly harsh. I do want to be friend with you, and I'm sorry I left."
"What?" You're confused- you just met Mr. Spud today.
Mr. Spud removes his helmet, and you gasp, tears of happiness running down your face.
"Leonard?!!!"
