Day One of Captivity

Was it only just yesterday that seven not-quite-adult-shaped humans snatched me from the street on the way to my car while I was deciding whether this was a Blondie or a Bon Jovi day? Feels like more. They shoved me into the back of a van, where I was forced to amuse myself with Angry Birds on my iPhone as we traveled across Missouri and Kansas and all of those other boring states in between. I tell you, it was truly terrifying. And it feels like a million years ago.

You wanna know why?


quistie64 has kidnapped me. I KNEW I should be wary when I saw her taking notes during my "How to Be a Most Benevolent Overlord that Can Still Strike Fear into the Hearts of Men and Women and Rule with an Iron Fist" class (aka "Leadership School"). I KNEW that, and I still let my guard down, and the yodeling pack of traveling singers she calls characters snatched me off the street. They weren't very nice about it, either. The littlest one glared at me.

Where am I now? In quistie's basement. Is it awful? Yes. She has Chuck and Fringe DVDs and Blu-Rays, but no Castle. I missed Raising Hope last night, guys. And I don't care that it was my own faulty memory causing it; I'm blaming it on quistie. Every time I try to make a break for it, she points at the stack of notebooks she's put on this desk for me with my favorite bic mechanical pencils and says in a scarily Gozer-like voice, "FATES."

There's no way out that I can tell. I may never escape. I'll just have to live down here in this cozy awful basement where the TV is only a 55" hi-def flatscreen. I only get the chocolate muffin if I write two pages of Fates, otherwise I have to make do with whatever scraps I can steal from the other prisoners.

And they do not like to share. Though they do love to play.

So I have sad news, people. I discovered through anonymous sources (read: the Internet) yesterday that quistie was planning to let me go if this charity thing made $480. And I watched in awe as you people (you love me! You really love me!) sprang to the rescue, donating that and more within six hours! I thought, hallelujah, everybody wants Frea to be freeeeeeeeeeee!

Turns out there was a clause attached. That clause being that quistie has decided to assert her overlord power and really does want to show her benevolence. Unlike my original thought, she's not going to pocket that $1,000+ she's earned for charity.   Instead, all of that money is going straight to Operation Smile and instead, she has roped me into cowriting a musical with her. $50 dollars, she said, equals a new chapter by the both of us!

Whaaaaaat? Doesn't she know musicals never work? I mean, take one of the greatest musical stories of all time, The Sound of Music. That would NEVER work as a Chuck musical. For one thing, I just don't see Chuck fitting into Maria's dress.

This is lunacy, I tell you. Even worse is the evilness that quistie now exudes like the delicious smell of peaches. She said she was going to let me go at $480. She's changed her mind and the price to get me out of this surprisingly delightful horrendous basement is now $1500. And if we get that, I think she might keep going.

Guys, you have to help me! I need to get out of here! I don't want to write Fates sixteen hours a day! What torture! I want to move boxes and paint shelves and a thousand other menial little things involved in getting an apartment ready!

Please, spread the word about what quistie is doing, both for Operation Smile and TO me, and if you haven't yet, please donate! Even $5 can go to help a child be proud of his or her smile, and it's $5 closer to freedom for me! You can find our donation page here. You can choose the Musical we'll be writing here. And you can follow the whole saga through our Sing for a Smile tag.

Please! Do it for the children! And for freedom!

Yours in Captivity,

Frea O'Scanlin