"Shhhh! We're getting you out of here," she whispers, her voice sweet and urgent.
I blink, trying to clear the fog from my mind. "Do I know you?"
Rainbow Brite smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Yes, you idiot. You don't remember us?"
"Nope. Nada. Apparently, my brain has been wiped cleaner than a porn star's ass crack after a bleaching session."
The two girls exchange a look of confusion and concern before frantically working on the ropes that bind me to the chair.
"I think they're cursed, Emily. I can't get them off," Bubblegum Girl says, her delicate fingers struggling against the unyielding knots. 'We need to hurry. I don't know how long my spell will last."
Spell? So she's a witch, too? Great, just great. It's like I've stumbled into a live-action remake ofHocus Pocus, except instead of Bette Midler and her fabulous hair, I'm stuck with these two.
What fucking time era am I in? Is this the Middle Ages, where people are burning witches at the stake and everyone's got a bad case of the plague? Or is this some futuristic, neo-pagan dystopia where technology and sorcery have merged into an unholy alliance?
I half-expect Gandalf to come strolling around the corner, smoking his pipe and muttering about hobbits and rings of power.
Beam me up, Scotty. There's no intelligent life down here, just a bunch of witchy shit and a whole lot of what-the-fuckery.
"By all means, take your time, ladies. It's not like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber are right around the corner." I dramatically gasp, "Oh wait, they fucking are." I whisper. "I can hear them talking in the next room." My words drip with sarcasm, masking the growing sense of unease in the pit of my stomach.
"Shit!" Emily hisses, her rainbow hair flying as she ducks behind me. "Let me give it a go." She tugs at the ropes, frustration etched in her furrowed brow. "Fuck! They've got some witchy crap on them. These damn things won't budge."
"Oh, a potty mouth. I like you already, sweetheart. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Wait, scratch that. I don't want to know what you do with your mother. That's a whole different kind of family therapy that I'm not equipped to handle."
She looks at me, over my shoulder, her rainbow hair falling into her eyes. "You know…you sure do seem calm and unhelpful for being tied up. Is this like a kink for you or something?"
I smirk, "Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart. The things I could show you..."
Emily scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I'll pass on the BDSM 101 lesson, thanks—I prefer my partners with a pulse."
She yanks at the ropes again, her frustration mounting. "Fucking hell, these things are tighter than a nun's asshole. What did they do, dip them in super glue?"
I chuckle at her vocabulary, "Maybe if you ask nicely, they'll untie themselves."
Emily shoots me a withering glare. "Oh, haha. Very funny, Mr. Comedian. Why don't you put that mouth of yours to good use and help me figure out how to get you free? Or would you rather sit there and crack jokes until Azrael returns to finish the job?"
I grin, my mind diving straight into the gutter. "I mean, I could think of a few other uses for my mouth, but I don't think now's the time or place..."
Emily groans, shaking her head in exasperation. "For fuck's sake, do you ever stop? I swear, it's like talking to a horny teenager. Areallyold, really annoying horny teenager."
She tugs at the ropes one last time, her fingers slipping. "Son of a bitch! These damn things are impossible!"
Bubblegum Girl gently touches Emily's shoulder, her voice soothing. "Em, maybe we should try something else? We're running out of time."
Emily sighs, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah, you're right. But I swear to god, if this asshole makes one more innuendo, I'm going to gag him with his owndick."
My eyebrows shoot up, my grin turning lecherous. "Promises, promises..."
Emily tugs at the ropes again, "Come on, you piece of shit knots," she mutters under her breath. "Untie, damn it!"
Suddenly, an invisible force emanates from Emily's hands, crackling the air with energy like a static shock on steroids. The ropes unravel as if commanded by an unseen power, slithering to the ground like serpents retreating from a charmer's flute.
Bubblegum Girl gasps, her pink hair seeming pale compared to the shock on her face. "How the hell did you do that?"
Emily stares at her hands, her eyes wide with disbelief and wonder. "I... I don't know."
I spring to my feet, rubbing my chafed wrists. "Right, so what's the plan, ladies? Are we gonna stand around here waiting for the gruesome twosome to return, or are we getting out of Dodge? Because as much as I love the ambiance of this place, I'd rather not stick around for the encore performance of 'Torture: The Musical.'"
