The night I proposed to Clara was the spookiest night of my entire life.
I had just returned home from prison that morning, and by lunchtime I decided to ask my woman for her hand in marriage. On my way to buy the ring I decided to snag a quick bite at Applebee's. As I stepped foot inside the establishment I could feel my bones chime as if some sort of deep resonance rang out from the soul of the restaurant. Something was wrong. My body began to quake and my trembling hands couldn't hold a firm grip on anything around me. I collapsed onto the sticky carpet. With a hoarse voice I just managed to whisper...
"Need... french fries..."
Twenty minutes later I was seated at a table munching a wholesome meal. I grinned wide as I shoved another fully loaded baked potato in my mouth. My waiter was so disgusted by my ravenous hunger that he promptly called the police. I was blissfully unaware of this as I ordered three more ripe farm raised tomatoes.
The authorities soon arrived at the restaurant weighed down with countless guns and blades ready to kill me if they had to. I was just finishing my third helping of seasoned cinnamon shrimp scampi when the police chief calmly approached me, joyfully asked "How are you doing today?" and pointed a gun directly to my temple. I reluctantly dropped my fork, and swallowed a mouthful of deliciously fresh butterscotch apple roasted veal.
I whispered "Please don't kill me," and the police chief assured me wasn't planning on it, assuming I cooperate. I agreed. I was immediately cuffed and escorted from my chair. As gained my footing, I asked "Why are you arresting me? Is it because I ordered too many honey-roasted salmon wraps?" The police chief guffawed, which unnerved me. He continued laughing, and apparently one of the police snipers three blocks away panicked and began shooting at me, narrowly missing my head but destroying the beer-battered aged wheat-berry toast I was planning on eating in the cop car.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" was the last thing I screamed before one of the armored deputies beat me unconscious. I was out for a long time.
I remember... floating... in the abyss that was my inner consciousness. I remember the freedom, the joy, and the inexplicable hunger for baked rigatoni with pesto sauce.
Suddenly I was jolted awake. By what I did not yet know, but I was immediately aware that something was not quite right. I felt cold, and I was alone.
But not ENTIRELY alone, for I felt as if I heard someone laughing in the distance. A laugh that was eerily similar to the police chief's. I wanted to stand up to pursue the disembodied laughter, but I soon discovered that I was tied to a chair. I had a knife though, so it was really no trouble. I was free in an alarmingly short amount of time. Quicker than it takes to drink a Dixie cup full of orange juice. More importantly though, I was free to investigate the weird sound.
It was very dark, there was a single light in the massive room but it wasn't particularly bright and I could only just barely see what was in front of me. I followed the laughter and it lead me to an old wooden door with a grimy window in it. I wiped my hand across the filthy glass and peered inside. I could only hardly tell what I was looking at, but it appeared to a long hallway light by three flickering light bulbs. I stepped back from the door. "Where the hell am I?"
I had just returned home from prison that morning, and by lunchtime I decided to ask my woman for her hand in marriage. On my way to buy the ring I decided to snag a quick bite at Applebee's. As I stepped foot inside the establishment I could feel my bones chime as if some sort of deep resonance rang out from the soul of the restaurant. Something was wrong. My body began to quake and my trembling hands couldn't hold a firm grip on anything around me. I collapsed onto the sticky carpet. With a hoarse voice I just managed to whisper...
"Need... french fries..."
Twenty minutes later I was seated at a table munching a wholesome meal. I grinned wide as I shoved another fully loaded baked potato in my mouth. My waiter was so disgusted by my ravenous hunger that he promptly called the police. I was blissfully unaware of this as I ordered three more ripe farm raised tomatoes.
The authorities soon arrived at the restaurant weighed down with countless guns and blades ready to kill me if they had to. I was just finishing my third helping of seasoned cinnamon shrimp scampi when the police chief calmly approached me, joyfully asked "How are you doing today?" and pointed a gun directly to my temple. I reluctantly dropped my fork, and swallowed a mouthful of deliciously fresh butterscotch apple roasted veal.
I whispered "Please don't kill me," and the police chief assured me wasn't planning on it, assuming I cooperate. I agreed. I was immediately cuffed and escorted from my chair. As gained my footing, I asked "Why are you arresting me? Is it because I ordered too many honey-roasted salmon wraps?" The police chief guffawed, which unnerved me. He continued laughing, and apparently one of the police snipers three blocks away panicked and began shooting at me, narrowly missing my head but destroying the beer-battered aged wheat-berry toast I was planning on eating in the cop car.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" was the last thing I screamed before one of the armored deputies beat me unconscious. I was out for a long time.
I remember... floating... in the abyss that was my inner consciousness. I remember the freedom, the joy, and the inexplicable hunger for baked rigatoni with pesto sauce.
Suddenly I was jolted awake. By what I did not yet know, but I was immediately aware that something was not quite right. I felt cold, and I was alone.
But not ENTIRELY alone, for I felt as if I heard someone laughing in the distance. A laugh that was eerily similar to the police chief's. I wanted to stand up to pursue the disembodied laughter, but I soon discovered that I was tied to a chair. I had a knife though, so it was really no trouble. I was free in an alarmingly short amount of time. Quicker than it takes to drink a Dixie cup full of orange juice. More importantly though, I was free to investigate the weird sound.
It was very dark, there was a single light in the massive room but it wasn't particularly bright and I could only just barely see what was in front of me. I followed the laughter and it lead me to an old wooden door with a grimy window in it. I wiped my hand across the filthy glass and peered inside. I could only hardly tell what I was looking at, but it appeared to a long hallway light by three flickering light bulbs. I stepped back from the door. "Where the hell am I?"
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