Originally posted by Kinniken
I would also be very curious to meet Curt and even more Simon Darkshade in person. Though maybe that would only shatter the myth
If you are really keen, my associates in the Union Corse can arrange your kidnap for Friday morning at 1132 hours. You don't need to pack, but a light lunch may be useful. Dress is formal evening wear, tails, tophat, etc, etc.
You will seized from the street from behind by four burly thugs cunningly disguised as leprous gibbon salesmen on their way to a conference in Lisbon and drugged out of your senses, courtesy of a very large and sharp syringe. Thus incapacitated, you will be placed in a hessian bag, castrated for good measure, and thrown roughly in the back of a van. Using backroads and smugglers roots, you will be driven to a disused nunnery in Holland where the snatch squad will hand you over to the next team.
They will conduct a thorough desensitizing psychological brainwashing process, so that you have no more perception of reality than the Italian cricket team. This will include repeated screenings of
Flipper and
North. You will also be castrated for good measure. The team will be cunningly disguised as Tunisian ornithologists with pronounced stutters and a penchant for nude tennis.
After 6 months of lying low at St. Flodders, you will be sealed into a coffin with the corpse of the team leader, who will kill himself when the job is done. The coffin will be placed into the back of militarily adapted hearse, and driven by a circuituous root to a mortuary. From there, you will be unpacked and put on the Orient Express, cunningly disguised as ladies luggage. You will also be castrated for good measure. You will be thrown off at Vienna, where a pair of Siamese twins will take you to Salzburg, partially by horse and cart and concealed beneath a shipment of carrots.
There, a burly Italian mountaineer looking suspiciously like Franco Nero will carry you over the border and into Venice, where you will be locked in a luxuriant hotel room overlooking the stunning views of the beach and Dirk Borgarde perving on the little boys. Some two days later, a man will knock upon your door, and then open it, claiming to be able to sell you a lifetimes supply of coconuts. Ignore him. The concierge will come up to your room, and put you in your taxi to the airport. On the way, the driver will castrate you for good measure.
Via Rome, you will fly to New York, kept in a cage with two rather amorous monkeys. You will be picked up by a traffic cop, a construction worker, an Indian and a sailor, which should be an interesting experience. A short taxi ride to a hazy flophouse in New Jersey later, you will be greeted by a crowded room of CB radio enthusiasts, and castrated for good measure. A man in the corner will approach you for a match. You will see right away he is not ordinary. He'll say 'Are you looking for something easy to catch?' Ignore him.
Later that night, you will be whisked away in a motorcycle sidecar to an abandoned airfield where you will be flown by seaplane to a waiting submarine in the mid Atlantic. Upon coming aboard, you will be castrated for good measure. Your quarters will be with the petty officers, who despite their name can be quite magnanimous. Except for Bruce, he's a real b1tch. The sub will creep along at a slow rate to avoid detection, and eventually surface off the coast of Devil's Island.
From there, you will relayed to Guyana by highspeed Zodiac, where you may meet with me via videolink in the shady backroom of a knocking shop in the bustling slums of Georgetown. You will of course be blindfolded during said videoconference. And my voice will be supplied by Daniel Radcliffe. And following the experience, you will again be brainwashed so that you have no memory of it, or the other experiences you have had; you will be conditioned to think that you have only spent two weeks in Paris, swimming in the Seine and thinking dirty thoughts about M. Eiffel's tower. Not that they could do any good, seeing that as a parting gesture, you will be castrated for good measure.
