Friday was Skysidhe’s birthday and she respectfully asked me to tie her to a bed for her own staged kidnapping. So I met her at the designated location to help tie her up. She’d rented out a posh B&B room and set up a bottle of wine and strawberries and dipping sauce. After changing into her corset and ruffled panties and being blindfolded I tied her wrists together then bound her to the headboard then tied her legs down.
I’ve known Skysidhe for more than half my life, and as I locked her in the room and drove to meet Bunny at a “secret location” for the ransom, I thought how fucking lucky I am to have friends so damn cool – and friends I know who would do the same for me if I ever asked. “Please tie me up for my birthday.” No questions asked.
I wore my pea coat and fedora when I met Bunny in the Laurelhurst parking lot to exchange the key and directions for a handful of non-consecutive, unmarked coffee beans. I tried to keep my voice low and my hat down over my eyes as I threatened him within an inch of his life about telling anyone, (then added, “But have fun cutie and be careful!”) Not very kidnaperish, I know, but he left with a grin and I rushed off to meet my posse for The Princess Bride at the Bagdad.
I met up with the gang to watch one of the golden movies of my childhood, by far one of my favorite movies ever made. I expected that 200 people would be shouting the lines and cheering, but what I didn’t expect was the group of drunk chicks which I will hereby refer to as the “dumb bitches” talking about their boyfriends for the next hour and a half and laughing so shrill I had to cover my ears once to block the pain. INCONCEIVABLE!
I realized that The Princess Bride is too special to me to share with a bunch of drunk and unappreciative morons. The monthly movie at the Bagdad is one of my favorite new pastimes, but I was grouchy and irritated and briefly considered pushing one of the “dumb bitches” over the balcony.
Even still, having a couple hundred people yelling, “As you wish.” And “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!” And “Bye bye boys. Have fun storming the castle.” made for a fun night with the peeps and a deep sleep.
I bought the book by William Goldman, because I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve never actually read it. That night I curled up in bed with a smile on my face and dreamed of Tom Welling…WTF? In the morning I dug through my coat pockets for the non-consecutive, unmarked beans and brewed myself a cup of kidnapper coffee and sat down to read.
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