Abby was irritated. Beyond irritated. Okay, fine, she was seething with anger. Her teeth ground together in a way that might have been painful had she noticed it. The poor buttons on her phone had never taken so much abuse. If it were possible for lifeless molded plastic to cry, it definitely would have. As it was, the phone suffered in silence as Abby stabbed out yet another message to her boyfriend. The previous texts (each about ten minutes apart) went like this:
Happy Anniversary, flyboy! :)
Hogarth Pennywhistle Gilligan Junior, you better not be ignoring me.
BOY YOU ARE IN SERIOUS TROUBLE WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU.
The latest message included the various ways of torture she planned for him should he choose to continue the cold shoulder.
In truth, she was worried. He'd never ignored her before. Even if his phone was dead, he'd call her from Wally's or Kuki's or if the situation called for it, his mother's. Never had he not offered an explanation for not responding.
Thankfully, her phone buzzed in her hand and Abby let out a sigh of relief. Her expression quickly turned to confusion, however, as she read the text.
You may want to check his bedroom. No need to thank us. ;D Love, Kuki and Wally.
Nothing good ever came of those two stealing Hoagie's phone. Hopefully they hadn't maimed him. Abby grabbed her jacket and dashed out the door, sprinting the two blocks with various scenarios running through her mind. Each was worse than the last, but she highly doubted that she'd find her boyfriend suddenly shipped to Timbuktu. Still, she couldn't shake the image of him wrapped in bubblewrap and forced into a box. She filed it away for later pondering as she reached Hoagie's house.
Panting, she pushed open the front door. No one seemed to be home. Unusual, but not unheard of. Slipping off her shoes, she cautiously made her way to the room she technically wasn't allowed to enter without a parent in the house. The sight that greeted her made her want to simultaneously laugh and cry from embarrassment.
Sitting on his sky blue bedspread was her boyfriend. With his wrists and ankles bound. In his boxers. With a gag in his mouth. She eased the fabric away from his lips, trying not to snicker or blush.
"I hate our friends." He muttered.
Loyal Readers: "Okay, where'd you go this time?"
Jess: -shuffles feet nervously- "...Glee."
Hi guys, love you, miss you, wanna review? Gottagobye.