A Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mr. Brian Kim, Esq. and Mr. Benjamin Nicholson III

(Taken from Wikipedia.org: American captivity narratives were often based on true events, but they frequently contained fictional elements as well, and some were entirely fictional, created because the stories were popular. As a result, historians treat captivity narratives with caution, and many of them are regarded more as folklore or ideology than history...)


And so it came to be that on the morning of the 17th of January 2008, we became captives on Bainbridge Island. The isle (due west of Seattle) spans miles -- several -- and encompasses mountains, lakes, roads, houses, vegetation... in short: all you could ever hope for. A modern day utopia. A garden -- nay, a biosphere -- of Eden.


And also a hell. A hell of Eden.

Our visit began pleasantly enough: pleasant company, pleasant conversation, pleasant Rock Band rocking (one song, anyway). And yet. And yet. And yet. If only we'd known the horror that would transpire upon the light of the first sun! (It is widely known that Bainbridge Island's residents -- a wealthy bunch -- purchased their own sun, thus leading to two sunrises.) If only we could reverse the flow of time!

10AM: My aunt picks us up from my uncle's house and takes us to her -- I'm sorry, I was about to say "house." But that would be incorrect. More like jail. More like penitentiary. You know, the coop. Cooler. Slammer. Can. Clink. Black hole. Stir. Rack. Lock down. Big house. Tank. Iron city.

Yeah, I've served my time in the joint, using urban dictionaries to research synonyms for "jail."

(This is a view of my cell ---->
Can you believe that shit?)

But I digress. At my aunt's, we should've taken heed from her three dogs, all locked up in cages.

What's that, doggy? You want to escape into the wilderness? Harness the energy that's pent up from hours in a cage? I hear you! I hear you all too well...

At this point, Ben had to bring me back to reality.

"Brian," he said, cocking his gun, "you're talking to the dogs again."

"But, I-"

"You know how I feel about talking to dogs." He holstered his weapon, the second sun's rays reflecting off the smooth barrel.

10:10AM: Breakfast. Bagels, cereal, croissants -- all laced, we discovered later, with some translucent sedative. That would explain the lethargy. (More on the lethargy later.)

So the lethargy. At one point in the afternoon, Ben and I devised a brilliant escape plan. We scribbled on napkins, walls, the dogs themselves -- any surface would suffice. It was perfect. We would be free at last. And right as we were about to execute the grand escape........................................................................

It felt like a coma lasting 1000 years while drowning in molasses in slow-motion with a sloth. The lethargy!

10:20AM: Commence laundry.

10:50AM: The washer finishes its cycle.

10:55AM: We walk the dogs.

11:55AM: We return from the walk.

11:57AM: I offer to move the laundry into the dryer.

Now, astute reader, learn from our follies! Never let your host hold you captive with laundry!

But this is only the first in a series of many, many, many tips. One more shall follow.

If you ever find yourself in a rush to catch the 3:50PM ferry to Seattle, do not -- I repeat, DO NOT -- let your driver pass through mock Norway. Or Sweden. Or Finland. It's hard to keep track of your mock Scandinavian countries when your head is aswirl from the pressure of time's sweet window closing in upon your body, your mind, your whole essence.

Should your driver take such an unforgiving detour (perhaps with the intent to sabotage your ferry expedition), it is best to run -- not walk -- down the 1.45 mile corridor that leads to the ferry. Your baggage will surely flop and tumble and roll, but run, dear reader, run. Run as though your lungs were full of air, even though they are cut off from the rest of your body due to the unrelenting strap from your over-the-shoulder bag. Run, run, run, Lola, run.

And finally: Peace. Tranquility. Freedom. God.


And then we had to battle the Dwarves. But you know about that already.