"Is the plane meant to tip this much?"
It's a good question. You haven't been on a plane for several years, and you find yourself struggling to remember. Last time, you recollect, you'd had substantially more sleep during the flight and substantially fewer crayons lost in and around your chair. Coming on holiday with your best friend Flora had seemed like a great idea when she'd suggested it, and you'd jumped at the chance. You didn't really stop and consider the fact that these days she had two pre-school children.
However, as it had been neither Jeremy or Michella pestering you with the question about the angle at which your plane was coming in to land, and especially as the question didn't begin with the word "why," you feel that you should probably respond.
"Oh, yeah, it's fine. I've done this loads of times. I thought the same thing at first... but this is coMPLETELy normal."
You're not a big fan of raising your voice most of the time, but when it's a choice between raising your voice or not getting the end of your sentence out because of several tyres screeching as they hit a runway, it's an easy decision.
Flora and her offspring are no less excitable during the 20 minute transfer from the airport to your hotel on peaceful, tropical Summer Island. At times the bus lurches and veers so much you feel as though you're back in the air. And along some of the island's less-well-kept streets, you'd have been right. You half expect Flora to return to asking whether the angles at which your vehicle is tipping are safe and this time you don't think you could reassure her with the same look of conviction.
By the time you arrive at the hotel, you're exhausted, and you're in two minds as to whether you should make the most of the remaining few hours of the day and head to the beach with the three others or whether to make the most of the hotel room you've been allocated.
You decide to get some shut-eye in the hotel for a few hours.
The Cubert Badbone Theme Room
You desert Flora and the kids and head over to your room. Strangely enough, you discover that Flora booked the Cubert Badbone theme room, meaning that everything, including the TV, is black and white.
"Oh well," you mutter to yourself. "It could be worse. We could have gotten the Out of Order theme room, after all." (Although the Out of Order room is in colour, everything in the room is, you guessed it, out of order.)
You then drop your bags on the floor and climb up on the Baked Potato-shaped bed, closing your eyes.
You decide to begin a silly-yet-scary dream sequence.
You fall asleep quickly. Seems you were exhausted from the trip.
Once asleep, you start to dream of weird, unsignificant things, like flying tomatoes that rule the world, vegetables hanging in a room, booting up DOS on a Linux computer... and more wackiness that happens in 'Trevor and the Haunted Tomato'.
After a long sleep you wake up again, and you wonder what it all meant. Then you look at the clock - Hey, it's twelve o'clock! You must have been REALLY exhausted.
You look for Flora and the kids, but you can't find them. You head down to the reception room to ask the receptionist if she'd seen them, but you get a 'no' answer. Strange... They wouldn't just go out and have fun without you...
You decide to discover your wife and children have been kidnapped.
The Ransom Note
"However," said the receptionist, "I was told to give you this letter."
To the goofy-looking guy in the black and white room,
I have taken the woman and children prisoner. If you want to see them again, please leave 5000 siquentos by the old palm tree in the centre of town.
Do not call the police. You cannot trace us. You cannot find us.
Sincerely, Don D-don Don, Owner of the local casino
"Ha," you shout, "No problem, 5000 siquentos is only 10 pounds in English money. I'll rescue Flora and the children and be a hero. Everybody will love me. It's because I'm so great!"
The receptionist rolls her eyes. "Look, are you going to go rescue your wife or not?"
"She's not my wife, she's my best friend," you reply. "Still, I guess I'd better go."
You decide to leave the money at the tree.
You decide to leave the money at the tree, as the money is barely worth that much.
So you walk to the center of town, and while doing so, you notice that someone is following you. You decide to ignore him and continue walking to the center of town. You arrive at the tree in the center of town, and lay down your 5000 siquentos. But when walking away, you suddenly see the guy snatch the money and run off with it!
The thief (or hostage taker?) is running away with your money! What will you do?
You decide to run after the thief.
Considering that this strange man might be a pickpocket, you gather up your energy and pursue him with speed. You begin to feel tired after running down three roads and you lose him. You sit on the side of the road and look at your feet.
Two minutes later you see a man running past who looks exactly like the thief. Two choices enter your brain.
You decide to give up all hope and go back to the hotel.
You get back in and the phone rings, you pick it up and a strange voice answers, "Good Afternoon, this is the Don D-don Don, we have received your money and are pleased, but you still have one more task to do," "WHAT?!?!" You scream, the man continues, "You thought this was going to be easy didn't you eh? 5,000,000,000 Siquentos, pay by cheque please and leave by the Summer Fountain. Goodbye, we are always watching." You put the phone down. 5,000,000,000 Siquentos, that's about £10,000,000.
You decide to want to write a cheque under a different name and set off to the fountain.
You pull out your novelty bunny themed chequebook and scrawl £10,000,000 onto a fresh leaf. In the name field you write the most unlikely name you can think of: 'Mr. T Furnish esquire' ( perhaps the richest playboy in the world next to Bill Gates ). You bask for a moment in the light of your own genius.
You make your way over to the Summer Fountain and place the felonious cheque under a large and convenient rock. The fountain features a red marblesque effigy of St.Nicholas, the patron saint of Christmas, bakers and murderers ( honestly - look it up for yourself ). As you step back you become aware of a large, imposing figure standing behind you. You hear a startled grunt and before you have time to realise that it came from you, the world goes black and you find yourself unconscious.
When you awaken you are in a cave of some kind. Flora and her children are tied up nearby upon a crude pile of dynamite sticks. There is a chicken with a pistol hung around it's neck milling about beside them. A gravelly voice intones from the darkness beyond.
"No sudden moves, Englishman. Clytemnestra here may not look like much but she's a crack shot." With growing panic you realise he's talking about the chicken. Clytemnestra clucks softly in agreement.
A figure steps forward from a shady alcove. Close to twelve feet tall and sheathed in rippling, toned muscle he stands with his hands on his hips looking like all of the biggest barrel-chested wrestlers in the world rolled into one over-pumped slab of man. Something about his fur trimmed crimson suit and curly white beard look strangely familiar to you. "Santa!", you exclaim.
Santa raises a detonator switch in his enormous hand and fills the cavern with a booming cry of, "Ho ho hoooo! That's Don D-don Don to you! And someones been a very, very naughty little Englishman, haven't they?" He waves your fake cheque in his free hand.
Nobody's written what happens next. How about another random story?