Liberation!

   Owen Tucker here.  Journal thingy there.
   7/26/12:  On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) there was yet another time flux.  This time my not-so-friendly Asian friend (whose name I really need to get) had just dragged me into his house using some cool, and extremely painful, judo move thingies.  Inside was just what you would expect from the outside.  Nice furniture, nice carpet, nice pictures, and all that nice junk.  He tossed me into a nice chair.
   “Stay,” he said.
   “Excuse me?” I replied. “I’m not a dog.”
   To show my defiance, I stood to my feet.  Or rather, I tried.  For some reason it didn’t work out too well.  I could move my upper body just fine, but my legs wouldn’t move and nothing I did would propel me upward. 
   “What’d you do?” I asked.
   He grinned and twirled his hand in a weird/fancy move. “Skills.”
   I snorted but didn’t say anything.
   “Good,” he nodded. “You stay, you quiet, I back soon.”
   Then he was gone.  A second later I heard his car pull away.  I was alone with my thoughts.  Which were just a bit bleak, considering the situation.  I knew I should’ve listened to my mother.  You just can’t trust anyone these days.
   I tried to move again, but my legs were still cemented by invisible concrete.  I tried yelling, but only succeeded in hurting my throat without anyone responding.  Eventually I sighed and leaned back in the chair, which was actually quite comfortable.  Who could know what this dude was gonna do when he got back?  I was in quite the pickle. 
   “Mah mah, you’ve gut yourself inta quite tha pickle, ain’t cha?”
   I sat up straight. “Wilfred?  Is that you?”
   “You knoo eny other Scottish flies?”
   “No, but I couldn’t very well see you, now could I?”
   “Ach.  Jest shut et, would ya?  We’re bustin’ oot of ‘ere.”
   I tried my legs once again.  Still stuck.
   “Can’t move my legs,” I said, pointing to them.
   “Weel theen, et’s a good thing Ah broought along sum friends, eh?”
   Wilfred then made what I’m assuming is the fly equivalent of a whistle, which sounded just like a really loud and annoying buzz.  There came a crash, the whole house shook, and a couple of big ol’ black bears rumbled into the room. 
   “Whoa!” I probably would have fallen out of my seat at the sight of them, if I hadn’t been glued to it. “Those are your friends?”
   “Aye,” Wilfred replied.
   “You have big friends, my friend.”
   “Indeed Ah do.  Lucky fa you.” He began buzzing around my head, shouting orders. “Ahll right, boys, grab ‘im and let’s blow thes place.”
   The bear lumbered over, grabbed my chaired and picked it up with me still stuck in it.  Then they made their way back out of the house through the hole they had created where the front door had been.  Just as we got outside my captor’s car pulled up and he jumped out.
   “Hey!” he yelled. “You stop!”
   Wilfred whistled and suddenly the place came alive with squirrels.  They came from everywhere.  The trees, the bushes, the house, everywhere.  And they all jumped the Asian guy, burying him in a pile of fluffy cuteness.  He let out a squeak of dismay right before they buried him.  As he went under, I found that my legs could move again.  I hopped off the chair with a shout.
   “All right!  Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”
   Wilfred let out yet another whistle (which I hoped was his last because they were really annoying) and horse came trotting up the street.
   “A horse?  Where in the world did you get a horse?”
   “You’re surprised at tha ‘orse, but na at tha bears?”
   “Good point.”  I jumped onto the horse, and was surprised to find that I actually made it. “Let’s go!”
   The horse whinnied something like, “oh great,” tossed its head (and almost me too), and galloped away into the sunset!
   Well, nothing as epic as that.  But the point was that we escaped, leaving my kidnapper to the mercies of the squirrels.

   To be continued…oh boy!...