First, I had to watch while a nozzle floated up and screwed itself onto the end of the hose. It sprayed all the loose dirt off the van, after which towels busied themselves drying the van off. While the van was being dried, my unseen captors ripped off all my clothes. By “ripped” I mean just that: my collar was grabbed and pulled at until all the buttons popped off, when other hands took the collar from the back and yanked the shirt off me. My t-shirt quickly followed while other hands tugged my pants and drawers down to my feet. With all the apparent roughness and hurry to get my things off me, I expected to be knocked off my feet next, but instead I floated up a few inches off the ground. My shoes quickly untied and dropped to the ground; my pants and underwear soon did the same.
When the van was finally dry, I was positioned right in front of the steps of the house, with the SuperSoakers taking up positions all around me. I had been given enough time to dread what was coming next, and I was not disappointed. The waterguns all let me have it at the same time, not letting up until they were all empty.
Then, another surprise. The hands holding me led me over to the van, as the side door opened. I saw a floor panel open, revealing a hidden cargo space I hadn’t seen before. A large duffel bag floated up out of it, out of the van and into the house. I was then led towards the house as the van door slid closed.
When I got inside, the duffel bag zipped open, and a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, both brand new, floated up out of the bag. Both items floated over and displayed their size tags; they were both exactly my size. How they pulled this off, I couldn’t figure out at first, since I don’t remember any measurements being taken. Then I remembered the clothes that had been destroyed the day before; maybe my captors had taken note of the sizes before ripping them up.
As the shirt and jeans pulled themselves onto me, I heard again the sounds of cooking in the kitchen. It smelled like chili, another of my favorite dishes (when it’s not too hot). A clipboard floated up off a nearby table. After a few pages flipped themselves over, the pen wrote something and then the clipboard was turned towards me. It was a printed form letter with the words “Read and sign,” written in the left margin.
The form letter was an apology for what I had done to the watergun at the beginning of this whole encounter. A *printed* form letter. Which led me to believe that my reaction, destroying the watergun, must have been expected from the beginning. What’s more, I must not have been the only one to suffer this fate. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
“I was set up!” I yelled angrily. “I was pushed into this, and you all , who- or whatever you are, don’t deserve an apology!”
The clipboard and pen were snatched from my hands, as the pen scribbled something else at the bottom of the paper. I could tell from the movement of the pen that I had made someone angry.
“Read it again, and sign it, or else!” the pen wrote.
I took the clipboard and read the form again. This time I saw something I hadn’t noticed before, though I’m sure it was there. In exchange for admitting that I was wrong to have destoyed the watergun, and promising not to do it again, I was being offered money for the time I had spent as a prisoner of my unseen captors. No promise was being made that it would never happen again, but there was a promise that if it did, I would be paid handsomely. I didn’t dare dwell on the “or else” part.