That Time I Got Kidnapped, Part 2: Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot

My mind was having trouble processing what was happening. I was being kidnapped… and my own sister was in on it? I mean, Hannah and I didn’t get along very well during, well, pretty much ever until I moved away from home. But I would never have seen this coming.

Fun fact: I have an affectionate nick-name for Hannah. Stanley. I used to just call her the Devil, but my parents didn’t like that. Then I started calling her Satan. It kind of grew on her, but my parents thought it was completely inappropriate. Then I shortened “Satan” to “Stan” and that became “Stanley.” So, now you know. I actually gave all of us nicknames: James, The Large and In Charge. Hannah, The Devil. Emma, The Small and Annoying. Matthew, Holy Terror. Benjamin, Taliban in Training.

I quit resisting my kidnappers. For a moment, I actually gave in to the thought that my own sister hated me enough to send me to sleep with the fishes.

But I came to my senses and thought that wasn’t possible. At about that time I heard a chuckle. I realized I was being punk’d. I searched for a voice I could recognize, but I couldn’t.

The thugs put me on the back of a car. ON THE BACK – not inside. They drove slowly to the nearby park, which was also at the base of the hill. They took me off the trunk and placed me at the top of the hill. I realized their plan. The plan was to roll my blanket burrito down the hill. This hill SUCKED. It was pretty big. It is the hill that everybody in town comes to go sledding (and then they get stuck, and I spent many days getting countless cars un-stuck there).

Then I heard a familiar voice from my captors. It was none other than fellow Blood Brother, Ryan. I was about to throw some profanity in his direction, but I didn’t get it out fast enough. They sent me rolling.

Rolling down a hill is pretty fun – when you aren’t tied up. Unfortunately, I was tied up in my blanket. I remember my head repeatedly hitting the snow (which wasn’t fluffy – it was frozen and packed from people riding their GTs and magic carpets and toboggans down the hill). The pillow case flew off and my bare face was getting to know the snow.

I came to a stop and just kind of groaned from the hurtyness. I tried to free myself from the blanket. Unfortunately, the duct tape around my ankles was literally around my ankles and I couldn’t get out. I looked up the hill, and there was Ryan and a couple of other guys from High School laughing their brains out. Then one of them (I think it was Shawn) got out his backpack and took out a bunch of sticks. Then he lit a lighter.

Great. Roman candles. I was familiar with these fun toys. I also knew what I would do if I was them. I’d shoot the burrito kid with fireworks.

Shawn lit the fuse and pointed the first one at me. But even from my sucky spot down the hill, I knew he had made a big mistake. He must not have been familiar with small-kine fireworks, because he aimed the roman candle at me but kept the fuse pointed at his face. My dread turned to anticipation as I was ready for this sweet, sweet epic fail of Shawn shooting himself in his own face.

Unfortunately, Ryan or one of the other guys noticed the mistake, and quickly ripped it from Shawn’s hands and pointed the fuse the right way. At me. Luckily, none of the shots hit my bare skin.

Then the guys got into the car and drove away. I was left to figure out how to get up the hill on my own. I should at this point probably indicate how I would get up the hill – hopping. My feet were tied together and I put my blankets under my arm and hopped with two feet up the hill. This sucked. Freezing cold, bare feet. I should also disclose what I was wearing – Fruit of the Loom. That’s it. I was in my boxer shorts, my bares out to the unforgiving Canadian night, hopping up a snowy hill.

I got to the top, barfed, and then hopped down the street to my house. The guys had their car parked at my house, and all the lights were on. Ryan came out and threw my winter boots to me in the street.

When I got to the house, I got in the front door and there those stupid jerks were making hot chocolate with my traitorous sister. I went to the kitchen sink and barfed a little more amidst the laughter and merry-making. I forgave them and went and got clothes on and came back up and had some hot chocolate with the peeps. Good times.

But wait! How did this plot happen?!

Rewind:

That morning at school, I was talking to Johnny (or somebody, but most likely Johnny) about how my parents weren’t going to be home that night and we should do something. Unfortunately that something didn’t pan out because I got sick. Also unfortunately, Ryan overheard the conversation. He went and found Hannah somewhere and there they began the plot to scare me to death.

The End.

PS – This is probably a good reason to not go around telling people your parents are out of town.

PPS – This is probably one of the few arguments for why everybody should (or shouldn’t) own guns. In this individual case, it’s probably a good thing I wasn’t armed. But if it was real, it’s probably a bad thing I wasn’t. But one thing is certain – a taser would have probably made this a way better story.