note: The link to the comment box, in case you're wondering, has been renamed 'rallying cries' (I'm talking to you, Jmann and his friends...)
On my hands and knees under the shell of what must have been the solar system’s biggest Reese’s candy, the insanity of my plan began to sink in; I had nothing but a chocolate shell two inches thick, and a stolen electric spork. I didn’t even have a real plan. Using the spork, I carved a rectangular hole in my candy shell which would allow me to see where I was going. Curving my back, I lifted my shell off the ground and began to crawl across the floor, fearful that at any moment, Darthus Depp would lift the shell and force me back into the chair to answer more pointless questions.
But no! As I crept toward him, he ran out of the room, screaming “Mayday! Mayday! There’s been a security breach in interrogation room 5! I repeat! Security breach! Requesting reinforcements and orders!”
I heard the response, which apparently came from the same speakers which had been playing back the scratched shriek recordings, loud and clear. “The security detail for the interrogation rooms has just gone to lunch. Darthus Depp, report to conference room 100 for your annual performance review.”
When I heard this, I began to feel sorry for my erstwhile interrogator, who, admittedly, hadn’t actually done anything to me. Here I was, trying to escape, and here he was, stuck without any backup and late for his performance review. The guy, er, alien, was doomed. He was sure to lose his job. I had to think of something quick that would save both of us.
I started crawling off down the hall, hoping I would think of something as I moved. A moment later, I heard Darthus Depp call after me “Hey, you! Earthling kid! Are you trying to escape, or what? “Cause if you’re trying to escape, you’re going the wrong way!”
“Hold still” I thought. “He’s trying to trap me.” Holding my breath, I stopped and waited to hear what the alien would say.
“Seriously, kid, if you’re trying to escape, you need to turn around. If you go that way, you’re bound to hit the lunchroom. If you run into the security crew, you’re in real trouble. Believe me, you do NOT want to get caught by security!”
Still under my shell, I called back “Why’s that, Mr. Depp?”
“You think tongue twisters, disco balls, and giant candies are all that goes on around here? They make you listen to heavy metal punk rock and cheesy love songs.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” I shouted in disbelief.
“No, I’m not. How do you think we got all those recordings of earthlings shrieking in despair?”
“All right” I thought “There is nothing in the galaxy that would make me want to go that way. Anything but interrogation floor security.” After a pause, I called out “Ok, Mr. Depp! I’ll come out if you promise not to capture me! Wait a minute! Aren’t you late for your performance review?”
“Aw, so what?” replied the alien “I hate this job anyway. You know what I really want to do?”
“I want to become a burger flipper at McDonald’s.”
I would never again be as surprised as I was then. I screamed this time. “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING! THERE ARE MCDONALD’S JOINTS ON MARS?”
The alien, though, remained calm and continued. “Yes, there are, actually. They’ve taken over Earth, so they thought ‘hey, why not take over the whole solar system? You don’t understand. On Mars, McDonald’s workers are the most highly respected citizens of all. Why, the dictator himself started out as a manager at McDonald’s.”
“What the-! The dictator? Is Mars anti-democratic, then?”
“Oh no, of course not. He’s freely elected by secret ballot. The leader holds the title of dictator because half the leaders on Earth who call themselves presidents are really dictators. He wanted to buck the trend. Want to know what our planet’s official name is?”
“The Totalitarian Empire of His Royal Presidency Insert Name Of Current Leader. We’ve wasted too much time already. We need to get going. Security’s lunch break ends in five minutes.”
“Five minutes?! Quick! Get me out of here!”
“All right then. Come on. But before we go, there’s something else that needs to be done.”
I scrambled out from under the chocolate shell just in time. Without warning, Darthus Depp had produced a blowtorch and aimed it at the candy. Four minutes later, there was a puddle of chocolate on the floor, getting bigger by the second. “All right” Depp exclaimed, turning off and stowing the blowtorch in its wall-mounted case once more ”We’ve got one minute! Let’s move!” Without another word, both of us began to sprint down the hall.
When we abruptly turned a corner, I yelled out “Why didn’t we just go straight to the exit?!”
“Out of the question! The outside world is the first place they look! We’ll find a better place!”
“Alright, where’s the better place?!”
After we had turned two more corners and climbed a flight of stairs, Depp called out “Watch what I do!” A second later, he had climbed a ladder which was on the wall beside us and grabbed two handles which were suspended from a cable above our heads. Pushing off from the wall, he went zooming down the hallway until, with a loud crash, he burst through the unmarked door at the other end.
I wasted no time in following him. I tried hard not to be worried, but I couldn’t help thinking “If one has to be the size of Darthus Depp to get through properly, how am I going to manage it? Those doors must be awfully heavy.” A second later, I collided with what can be best described as Tempur-Pedic® mattress foam. The shock caused me to lose my grip on the handles and fall hard to the floor. I could hear the footsteps of what could only be interrogation floor security pounding up the stairs. How did they know? I was trapped!