How to Successfully Kidnap Strangers (5 page)

It had started out innocently enough. Him, Louise, Stephen, Billy, and Sergio all piled into his car around eight o’clock and drove down, making it with a good fifteen minutes to spare before Sergio’s scheduled reading.

The place was packed, and not with its usual overabundance of sports fans, either, but instead with people who were looking forward to hearing Sergio read from
The Cumming of Christ
. These people were legitimate fans. They were a surreal sight. It was easy sometimes to think you were completely alone, talking to yourself, especially when your main source of communication and business was through the Internet. Seeing these people and hearing them talk about how pumped they were to listen to Sergio read reconfirmed what Nick had already expected: people loved the weird shit. They were just waiting for someone to give it to them. And thanks to Nick and his press, somebody was finally around to deliver the best weird shit available today. True, BILF’s readers were mostly underground, but that didn’t mean the underground wasn’t immensely populated. There was a global mosh pit going on under the world’s feet. Who wanted to be aboveground, anyway?

Since they still had fifteen minutes, Sergio wanted to prepare for his reading. He ordered three shots of Jack and a pint of Shiner to top it off. After he finished his drinks, he still had fourteen minutes to spare, so he spent the remainder of his time drinking more shots.

“Have you decided what you’re going to read?” Stephen asked.

Sergio shrugged. “I don’t think that matters.”

“You gotta read something from
Christ
, man,” Nick said. “That’s what these people want. I mean, shit, look at that guy. He has a T-shirt of Jesus taking it in the ass.”

“I never endorsed that shirt,” Sergio said, smiling at it. “But man, I wish I had one.”

“I’ll contact some T-shirt printing places online,” Nick said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“Badass.” He took another shot. “Oh, speaking of, I didn’t bring the book with me. Does anybody have a copy?”

Nick, having anticipated this, pulled out a rolled-up copy of
The Cumming of Christ
from his back pocket and handed it to the author.

“Thanks.” Sergio took the book and stared at the front for a moment, admiring its cover. The artist, Matthew Spooner, had really done a great job capturing Sergio’s manic writing style. The cover, which featured Jesus Christ nailed to a cross made out of naked women, couldn’t have been more perfect, especially Christ’s orgasm face. It was glorious, it was holy, it was sexy. Nick also dug the Virgin Mary at the bottom of the cover, on her knees, giving Jesus a blowjob. He still couldn’t believe that an English teacher had tried assigning this book to high school students. BILF really did have the craziest goddamn fans. But hey, it had certainly sparked some controversy, which followed with a crazy amount of book sales, even if it had resulted in that teacher’s termination. Nick would send the poor guy some free books, maybe a box-set of Placid paperbacks.

A homeless man in a suit stumbled up to them, clearly drunk. “Hey, Nick, how’s it goin’, buddy?”

“Piss off, Jared.”

“Whoa, whoa. Why so hostile?”

Nick just stared at him and waited for him to leave. Instead, the vagrant moved closer and said, “You know, in case you were looking to hire anybody to edit, I’m currently available.”

“I know you’re available. You’re
always
available.”

“Well, maybe you should hire me then.”

“And maybe you should fuck off.” Nick pushed him away and he got lost in the crowd of drunks. They had two minutes left until the reading began and the bar was becoming restless.

“Okay, troops, let’s have another one,” Sergio said. They ordered another round and tipped their glasses together before pouring them down their throats. “Okay,” Sergio said, smiling at the burn, “it’s time to go blow this universe a new asshole.”

Sergio approached the stage with a copy of
The Cumming of Christ
over his head, and the crowd started going crazy. Sergio stood on top of the stage and looked down at the microphone, as if he’d never used one in his life, and shit, maybe he hadn’t. None of them had ever attended a reading of this size before.

Sergio waved his hands up and down, signaling for the crowd to get louder, and they obeyed.

“Shit,” Louise said. “This is insane.”

“You think he’s gonna write a follow-up?” Billy asked.

Nick nodded. “He’s already written one.”

“Shit, when?”

“Last week.”

“That motherfucker’s a robot, man.”

“He’s
my
robot,” Nick said, smiling and taking another drink of his Shiner.

Sergio grinned wide and shouted into the microphone, “ARE YOU LOONY MOTHERFUCKERS READY TO GET CRAZY?”

The crowd shouted, “YES!”

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

“YES!”

“GIVE ME A FUCK YEAH.”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“HAVE YOU SINFUL MOTHERFUCKERS ACCEPTED JESUS CHRIST AS YOUR LORD AND FUCK BUDDY?”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“HAVE YOU PREPARED YOURSELVES TO DO WHATEVER HE COMMANDS, WITHOUT QUESTION?”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“ARE YOU READY TO WORSHIP OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST?”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“ARE YOU READY TO SWALLOW HIS HOLY CUM?”

“FUCK YEAH!”

Sergio took a moment to recover from laughing. “Okay, let’s do this shit.”

He opened up
The Cumming of Christ
. Stephen jumped up on the stage with his acoustic guitar and began ripping against the strings as loud as he could manage, and Sergio started screaming the words from a random page in his book.

“‘JESUS CHRIST DON’T NEED NO MOTHERFUCKING FLUFFER!’ JESUS SCREAMED, SLAPPING THE PORN STAR WITH HIS HOLY DONG.”

The crowd evolved into a mosh pit. They screamed the passages along with Sergio, like they knew the book by heart.

“Oh my God,” Billy said.

“Where have these people been hiding?” Louise asked, and Nick wondered if maybe she was feeling a little jealous that
Grits & Clits
wasn’t as popular.

Sergio jumped up and down, kicking his legs in the air, acting like a true rock star. “‘WATER AIN’T THE ONLY THING I CAN TURN INTO WINE, BITCH!’ JESUS SHOUTED IN GLEE AS SARAH PALIN DEEPTHROATED HER LORD AND SAVIOR.”

Nick turned to Billy and shouted for him to go retrieve the promotional materials from the trunk.

“
What?
” Billy screamed back.

“THE PROMOTIONAL MATERIALS. GO GET THEM.”

“WHAT PROMOTIONAL MATERIALS?”

“THE GODDAMN CRUCIFIXES.”

Billy smiled. “Oh, yeah.” He spun around and ran outside.

Nick noticed the bartender, pouring somebody a drink and shaking his head disapprovingly. He wore a crucifix necklace and a Bible verse tattooed across his throat. He made sure to be extra polite when he ordered another round of shots.

Billy returned with a box of promotional materials that Louise and Stephen had stayed up all night making. The design was simple enough. You just had to have the necessary supplies, which were lots of dildos and rolls of duct tape. Once you had those, you could make as many dildo crucifixes as your tiny perverted heart desired. At least until you ran out of dildos and duct tape.

Across the horizontal dildo on each crucifix, they had written “SERGIO PLACID’S THE CUMMING OF CHRIST” in black permanent marker. They’d used a red marker for the black crucifixes.

As Sergio’s reading grew louder and rowdier, Nick and his publishing staff began throwing the holy dildos into the massive mosh pit. The crowd eagerly snagged them out of the air, as if they were expecting them.

At the sight of dozens of drunken lunatics waving dildo crucifixes in the air, Sergio smiled wider and screamed louder.

“FIRST HE DIED FOR HER SINS, THEN HE JIZZED ON HER TITS.”

The crowd exploded. They’d have to call in the riot squad soon. Nick was loving it. He drank more beer, threw more dildo crucifixes.

Behind him, the bartender muttered, “You’re all going to hell. Every last one of you.”

Annoyed, Nick turned around to throw a dildo crucifix at him, only he threw his cell phone instead.

“That’s it,” the bartender said. “I’m calling the police.”

“Call these nuts!” a random drunk screamed, and dropped his pants and proceeded to urinate over the bar.

Nick remembered laughing hysterically at the sight of the bartender dodging the stranger’s piss, then somebody smacked Nick in the face with a dildo crucifix, and everything went blurry. He woke up the next morning covered in vomit.

Sitting in the parking lot now, Nick wondered who had to clean up the mess they left behind. Did the bartender have to stay late? Was he still there?

Was Nick really going to hell?

Only one way to find out. He got out of the car and approached the bar entrance.

The doors were locked.

“Balls.”

12. THE DRIVE TO NOWHERE & EVERYWHERE

“Jesus Christ, how
long is this guy going to drive? Where could he possibly be taking us?”

“Forever. Anywhere.”

“It just seems awfully long of a trip for someone he randomly recognized in a coffee shop.”

“Maybe he’d been following me. Stalking me. Who the hell knows.”

“He could be taking us to the woods, where he has a grave already dug, waiting for you.”

“Hopefully it’s big enough to fit two bodies.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“You’re the one who keeps talking about it.”

“What else do you expect me to talk about? The World Series?”

“Were you rooting for the Giants or the Royals?”

“Seriously?”

“You know, I was listening to this podcast a few days ago, the guest was this guy who writes junkie fiction. Joe Pitts, or Tom Clifford, something like that. Anyway, he was watching game seven during the interview, and he went fucking berserk when the Giants won. It was pretty amazing.”

“Are you not at all worried about where we’re going?”

“Sure I am. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now.”

“We could come up with some sort of plan.”

“A plan for what?”

“Uh. Freedom?”

“Listen, when they open this trunk, we could be facing an infinite amount of possibilities. We have no idea what’s waiting for us. He could open the trunk and light us all on fire, or shit, he could never open the trunk at all, just drive off a cliff.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“See? Plans are useless.”

“Shit.”

“I gotta.”

“What?”

“Shit. I gotta.”

“Well. Please hold it.”

“I’ll try.”

“Oh shit.”

“I thought you wanted me to hold it.”

“No, shut up, I think he’s stopping.”

“You’re right.”

“Oh shit.”

13. THIS JUST IN: EVERYTHING SUCKS

Eliza made Billy
drive into a field, far from the road. Despite what her brother was telling her, and despite the pounding coming from the trunk, she still couldn’t believe the situation. It was just too fucking crazy to be reality.

She told him to stay in the car and pop the trunk. She got out and walked around to the back of the car and waited. The trunk eventually popped open once Billy finally discovered the trunk release button. She slowly lifted it up and peered inside. One man did not seem familiar at all, but the other guy she definitely knew.

Billy wasn’t bullshitting. She’d recognize that smug asshole’s face anywhere. Even if his face was now busted up and leaking a frightening amount of blood.

“Hi,” the man she didn’t recognize said.

“Hey,” she said.

“What the fuck is going on?” Harlan Anderson said.

“Let me get back to you on that.” Eliza closed the trunk and returned to the passenger seat.

“Well?” Billy said.

“Well what?”

“What are you thinking?”

Eliza laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I think we’re way over our heads here.”

“Shit. What else is new?”

“Maybe we should call Nick.”

“I thought about that,” Billy said, then frowned. “Except that I have Nick’s cell.”

“What? Why do you have his cell?”

“Last night, at the bar? Nick threw it at the bartender. Well, the bartender, who was this ultra Jesus freak dude, actually turned out to also be a sweet ol’ soul with a healthy supply of crank. He was the dude who took me to that party after the bar closed. He gave me Nick’s cell, since he was holding on to it. He was thinking about pawning it, but decided I was a pretty okay guy, so gave it to me to give back to Nick.”

“Okay,” Eliza said. “Then I guess we can just go directly to his apartment.”

“What if he’s not home?”

“Nick is always home.”

“You think Louise is home?” Billy smiled.

“You’re a pervert.”

“I am merely human, sis. Merely human.”

“Barely human.”

Eliza cringed, thinking about the last time they’d all partied together at Nick’s apartment. Stephen passed out early, and Louise and Billy ended up fucking each other in the bathroom. Eliza heard all the details from her brother the next day, despite the fact that she’d plugged her ears and sung “la-la-la” to drown out his words. The fingers and singing didn’t do an effective enough job and she still had to hear all about her brother’s first anal sex experience. Billy really needed more friends. Anyone, really, besides herself, who’d be willing to talk about sex with him.

They drove to Nick’s apartment without further discussion. She didn’t want to know what her brother was thinking. Sometimes people’s thoughts were best left in their heads to die. Eliza’s own mind was taking a turn for the worst. She should’ve just jumped out of the car and ran far away before shit continued downhill. But she didn’t—of course she didn’t. She had her chance back at the field, after looking into the trunk and seeing those men. She could have told them both to run and she could have fled with them. But she’d closed the trunk and gotten back in the car and told her brother to drive.

She was involved no matter what now, and as ugly as it sounded, this was her choice. Eliza had been given an exit opportunity and she’d willfully, stupidly ignored it.

Nick’s apartment was unlocked, but nobody was inside. The bathroom was covered in vomit, which was typical for Nick’s apartment. If someone wasn’t puking, then the planet wasn’t spinning.