The Licorice Kidnapping
Enter the Licorice: 1
I had just slipped out the back door, as I left the local Pub late in the ghastly hours of the night.
There had been a sudden screech of tires, and an effeminate hand in smooth gloves over my mouth; before I felt my hands forcibly pulled behind my back. The next instant I feel the muzzle of a glue gun slipped in between my tight pressed lips and the sticky, crystal clear silicon syrup slowly poured into my mouth and effectively muted me in the process.
There is a faint, yet distinct taste of licorice om my tongue from the first instant; that simply refused to leave. Just as I feared the syrup was to flow down my throat; I feel a change as it pushed out the front of my face into what could only pass for a distinctly equine muzzle, even if it measures but two inches in total.
With my mouth full of syrup, and effectively muted; I was incapable to offer any resistance or protest in the least, as I was pulled off of the side walk and pushed into the back of a black, gang van simply marked ‘Licorice’, in bright cerise letters on both sides and the back. Once I had found myself inside, my hands are pressed to the sides and the palms of my hands securely pressed up against the right inner wall; before the glue gun had been brought to bare as its muzzle squeezed in under the right and left palm respectively and more syrup filled the void between my hand and the smooth metal of the wall.
Once the muzzle of the gun had been withdrawn, the hands let go of me. For the briefest of instants, I was almost getting my hopes up, but as I tried to pull my hands from the wall; the realization dawned in on me with crushing weight. There is no way out of the van; unless they, or more precisely the one with the gun pulled me out.
With eyes wide open, I could clearly see the figure exiting the same way she just pushed me in so rudely. I see the light vanish, as I hear the noise of the double doors slammed shot before me.
In the dark, to black room; all I could do was to trail the steps of the effeminate entity, listening to the footfalls and trace the movement back to the front of the van. I hear the handle as she pulled up the door to the driver’s seat up front mere feet from where I am currently standing stuck to the wall. I imagine her slipping in and sitting down in the monstrously comfortable seat of the driver, before I hear the door slam shut and feel the vibrations through my hands and feet. I could have ignored the sensation of my feet, but my hands are securely stuck onto the wall.
A moment later, the whine of an electric engine could be heard and felt through the inner wall in the back of the van. The vibration gave the impression of a cat spinning, or the jet engine revving up in order to gather the needed momentum and thrust for a private jet to take off of the ground on the runway on a near by airport.
Of course I do feel the twists and turns of the road over the vibrations. In the darkness, there is nothing else. Even if I hear the noises of the engines and clearly can’t ignore the vibration in the metal under the palms of my hands. Going right and left, stopping and revving along the way.
At the end, there is a screching halt. Are we there?
There had been a sudden screech of tires, and an effeminate hand in smooth gloves over my mouth; before I felt my hands forcibly pulled behind my back. The next instant I feel the muzzle of a glue gun slipped in between my tight pressed lips and the sticky, crystal clear silicon syrup slowly poured into my mouth and effectively muted me in the process.
There is a faint, yet distinct taste of licorice om my tongue from the first instant; that simply refused to leave. Just as I feared the syrup was to flow down my throat; I feel a change as it pushed out the front of my face into what could only pass for a distinctly equine muzzle, even if it measures but two inches in total.
With my mouth full of syrup, and effectively muted; I was incapable to offer any resistance or protest in the least, as I was pulled off of the side walk and pushed into the back of a black, gang van simply marked ‘Licorice’, in bright cerise letters on both sides and the back. Once I had found myself inside, my hands are pressed to the sides and the palms of my hands securely pressed up against the right inner wall; before the glue gun had been brought to bare as its muzzle squeezed in under the right and left palm respectively and more syrup filled the void between my hand and the smooth metal of the wall.
Once the muzzle of the gun had been withdrawn, the hands let go of me. For the briefest of instants, I was almost getting my hopes up, but as I tried to pull my hands from the wall; the realization dawned in on me with crushing weight. There is no way out of the van; unless they, or more precisely the one with the gun pulled me out.
With eyes wide open, I could clearly see the figure exiting the same way she just pushed me in so rudely. I see the light vanish, as I hear the noise of the double doors slammed shot before me.
In the dark, to black room; all I could do was to trail the steps of the effeminate entity, listening to the footfalls and trace the movement back to the front of the van. I hear the handle as she pulled up the door to the driver’s seat up front mere feet from where I am currently standing stuck to the wall. I imagine her slipping in and sitting down in the monstrously comfortable seat of the driver, before I hear the door slam shut and feel the vibrations through my hands and feet. I could have ignored the sensation of my feet, but my hands are securely stuck onto the wall.
A moment later, the whine of an electric engine could be heard and felt through the inner wall in the back of the van. The vibration gave the impression of a cat spinning, or the jet engine revving up in order to gather the needed momentum and thrust for a private jet to take off of the ground on the runway on a near by airport.
Of course I do feel the twists and turns of the road over the vibrations. In the darkness, there is nothing else. Even if I hear the noises of the engines and clearly can’t ignore the vibration in the metal under the palms of my hands. Going right and left, stopping and revving along the way.
At the end, there is a screching halt. Are we there?
♠ ♠ ♠
Edit: 01