September 6th, 1973 – Kidnap is such an ugly word

I crossed my legs, mostly so I could lean away from Mr. Smiles “New boss huh?  What label do you work for?  You guys must really be hard up to sign me if you went through all the trouble of kidnapping me and dragging me across the globe.  I do have a new song that will knock you on your ass but it’s not going to come cheap. I have a lot of demands.”

He laughed thinly “Kidnap?  You have a very suspicious mind for a young lady.  We didn’t kidnap you, we set you free.”

I raised an eyebrow “I suppose I was chained to the floor for my own protection then?  And what exactly was I being freed from?  I seem to remember doing just fine.  The heat didn’t work in my apartment but that’s not something that warrants at rescue at this time of year.  My landlord and I have a contentious relationship you see.  I won’t pay my rent until he fixes the heat and he won’t fix the heat until I pay the rent.  It’s a chicken egg situation.”

His look turned to one of curiosity “Is the last thing you remember being in an apartment?”

I chuckled “I know, good looking gal like me home on a Saturday night?  What’s the world coming to?  I went for a bike ride, I had lunch with some friends, I watched a little TV, I practiced the guitar for a while, and then I read a little bit before going to bed.  Next thing I know I’m in . . . Korea?”


“That’s all pretty mundane stuff there Mr. Spock, what’s so fascinating about it?”  He snapped his fingers and one of his dark suited lackeys picked up a newspaper from a nearby stand and handed it to him.  He folded it over and handed it to me. “September sixth huh?  Is that supposed to mean something?  Do you guys use a different calendar here?  Wherever here is?”

He shook his head slowly smiling “No, same calendar, you must have been in that facility for quite a while.  And you remember nothing?”

I sighed theatrically “Look man, I get that you’re trying to creep me out and be mysterious and whatnot but it’s annoying.  Just tell me why you brought me here.”

“I told you, you work for me now.”

“Are you that hard up for singers around here that you have to resort to kidnapping?”

“We have plenty of singers, what we need are fighters.”

I couldn’t help but laugh “Fighters?  Are you high, man?  The last fight I was in was with my sister when I was twelve.  And I remembering thinking at the time that I was a little too old for it.  I’m a musician.  Who could I possible fight?”

He grabbed my arm and I yanked out of his grip instinctively – it wasn’t hard.  It was like pulling away from the hand of a baby.  I did so with such force that my elbow hit the counter and splintered it like when a guy in one of those karate movies slams his hand down on something.

His smile widened “Who indeed.”

I rubbed my elbow “Yeah, I meant to ask about that, what have you done to me?  Why does my head feel like someone is hitting it with a wrench?  And why am I so damn hungry?”

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