I Would be an Awful Person to Kidnap

Based on the numerous kidnapping movies and TV shows I have seen, it is now clear to me that I would be a horrible person to kidnap.  As much as I would like to brag about what high demand I would be in, I just don’t really seem to have a good mix of traits you look for in a quality hostage. Here’s why.

If you grab me, understand that you might grow to love me.  Its true, people love spending time with me.  I know this might make me sound full of myself but you should not underestimate my dry cool wit, loving smile, and comforting voice.  It can be very tempting.  You might scoff at this but heed my warnings.  The threat of reverse Stockholm Syndrome is real. After trading a few quick one liners with me following my daily beating/cigarette burning, you might find yourself sneaking in for late night bull sessions about how none of your gang take any of your torture or ransom drop suggestions seriously, and you are completely under appreciated. This could lead to names could be exchanged, blindfolds secretly removed, and a host of other problems that could lead to your arrest. You would be in a constant struggle to stay professional while resisting my natural charms.  Nobody wants that type of daily pressure added to the whole “if we get caught we are going to spend life in prison” hanging over their head.

Speaking of the aforementioned torture, you would definitely need to be careful working me over due to my supple yet flabby dad-bod and weak constitution.  Beatings and cigarette burning would probably not end well.  Knowing me, I would end up dead from some king of obscure infection and you wouldn’t be able to collect any ransom money.  Also, there would be the whining and girlsih screams of anguish. This would require you to think outside the torture box and use one of the noninvasive options I have listed below

  1. Play the Sesame Street theme song on a constant loop
  2.  Setup a TV and put the movie “The Butterfly Effect” on a constant loop with me tied to a chair
  3. Force me to listen to Bill O’Reilly narrate the sex scenes from his horrible fiction novels
  4. Make me exercise…specifically that weird hot yoga taught by an overly plucky instructor or spin class taught by some douchebag who constantly tells you how much spin class has changed his life

Having to go through all this special crap just for someone you’ll probably end up killing anyway seems like a big waste of time and energy.  Not to mention the embarrassment of having to buy a copy of the Butterfly Effect.

Toileting is always an issue with these kidnapping scenarios and mine presents a greater than normal challenge.  You see, I have various digestive issues, including but not limited to, IBS, GERD, Gluten Intolerance, and possible Crohn’s disease.  This means the standard bucket situation probably won’t cut it.  Not only will I fill most poop buckets before 9AM, I will probably require several buckets just to get through the day.  Also, most of this stuff will be of the loose and super smelly causing you to waste most of your kidnapping and torture budget hanging those tree shaped car air fresheners from the ceiling.  It wouldn’t take long for the neighbors to become nauseated by my stink and call someone to investigate. Now I know your first reflex will be to not feed me very much to cut down on the bathroom trips but that opens up a possibly worse Pandora’s box. I speak of course, of GERD induced Halitosis.

Picture like 10 of these. Then picture having to dump them everyday.

As my wife likes to point out to me on a daily basis, if I don’t get some food in my belly within the first hour of being awake, all the churning acid in my stomach causes severe halitosis.  I know its  a serious problem because when I ask her how bad it is she says “Its just a little sour”, which in wife speak means “HOLY SHIT, YOUR BREATH SMELLS LIKE ZOMBIE FARTS!”  Just think of how terrible it will be directing a proof of life video or holding the phone close to my mouth while eating zombie farts! Hell, it might even get stuck in your clothes forcing you to have to do laundry on a regular basis.

So if you see me hiking in Machu Picchu, on same random jungle tour bus, or buying knock off prescription pain killers in .Mexico, it’s probably in your best interest to look elsewhere for that big payday.  Grabbing me will take you down a rabbit hole of crying and stink like you’ve never experienced.  Stick to college kids, the haven’t been ravaged by everyday life yet and have parents that still care enough to send money to get them back.  My wife is probably pretty hit or miss at this point.



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