Stuffed-Silly

A slap on the face. A splash of water and a harsh shout emanating from a gruff, emotionless tambor. “Alright, sit him up straight,” came a voice from out of the dark. Or, no. It wasn’t actually dark. Jimmy just had a burlap sack thrown over his head. Jimmy started breathing heavily. The water-soaked cloth sack clinging to his mouth and nostrils didn’t make taking in oxygen all that easy and, what’s worse, he was having an anxiety attack. He had several guesses about what was happening at the moment, and none of them were good. Obviously, he had been kidnapped, no questions there. The man had been innocently strolling through the shopping plaza located on the Western District of town, the high-end district, racking up a pretty dime on his wife’s credit card as he filled his pockets with wholly unnecessary trinkets, jewelry and electronics. Ever the paranoid sort, he had noticed the curious, no, dangerous looks that the two men in track suits across the way had been shooting him; it