The inquisitive one ran to DC, choosing a neighborhood to hang out in at random.
Excited to get in on the social media craze, the i.o. came to a walk, whipped out the phone, and started shooting a video.
“I’m here in Washington, DC!” the inquisitive one said to the phone’s camera, while navigating the uneven sidewalk next to some row houses.
“Look at all the crime!” the inquisitive one shouted, moving the camera around to show a few random people walking on the street and bicyclists and motorists traveling by, none of whom looked remotely threatening.
“Oooo, DC is so scary!” the inquisitive one mocked, turning a corner onto another street. “Yep, we definitely need the National Guard out on theseβ”
That’s when the i.o. felt the barrel of a gun sinking into the skin of the throat. “Give me all your money!!” someone shouted.
“Here!!” the i.o. shouted back, dipping into the pocket of the running shorts and handing the masked person a $5. “This is all I have! I don’t usually carry much, when I’m out on a run!!”
Everything went dark and jumbled as the i.o. comprehended that the bodily self had been, somehow, snatched off the ground and stashed into a big sack and swung over the shoulder of the masked person.
Bouncing around with the knees curled up in the bottom of the dark sack, the i.o. frantically dialed 911.
“Hello, what’s your emergency?”
“HELP!!” screamed the i.o. “I mean, just kidding, I’d like to order a large pepperoni pizza, please.”
“Are you in danger?”
“Yes, that’s right, a large pepperoni pizza, delivered immediately, to Washington, DC!” The i.o. was slamming alternately against two walls, one on the left and one on the right, which made a different bone or muscle hurt each time, and also bouncing in a downward direction.
“What’s your location?”
“I don’t know, a neighborhood in the District. You can track my phone, can’t you? Don’t you have all the technology?! I mean, all the technology for pizza deliveries? Anyway, I gotta go, thanks for sending the pizza right away!”
The inquisitive one hung up, went back to the camera app, and noticed it was still recording. That was when the i.o. hit the ground with a painful thud, and fell over onto a hard flat ground. Something started roaring, maybe an electric saw; it was impossible to tell from within the darkness of the sack.
“Hey everyone, I’ve been abducted in DC!” the i.o. whispered into the camera, over the loud whirring sound. “Help! Help! S.O.S.! Call the National Guard!”
The electric sound got louder, so the i.o. shouted, “BIG BALLS, ARE YOU OUT THERE?! BIG BALLS, HELP ME PLEASE, OH, HELP ME, BIG BALLS!!”
The i.o. ended the video just as the noise ended, too.
The inquisitive one posted the video to TikTok and then futilely clawed at the sack, which must’ve been fastened at the top, and kicked and rolled around and kicked some more. Then the i.o. found a tiny hole and peeked through it and saw . . . the ghost of Jeffrey Epstein, with a twisted cloth noose digging into his neck, leaning rakishly against a concrete wall, smoking a ghostly cigarette, and staring directly back!!!!
The only thing the inquisitive one could think to do was to sputter out the most exalted, illustrious, and beatific pair of words in the English language, feverishly and as if in prayer: “Big Balls . . .”
