ABDUCTED!

Yes, well, Mr. Finn is very clever. He succeeded in making us disappear for a few weeks. All of us, I mean. But we are back, and we are better than ever I KNOW THAT'S A CLICHE MR HOLMES! THAT'S WHY IT'S FUNNY!

Anyway, I have for whatever reason been selected to relate the story of the tale.

It was between Christmas and New Year's, that wonderful week you just lay around and do whatever you feel like (Mr Holmes if you yell at me any more about generalizing I'm going to generally throw you out that window). Seeing that Mr Holmes, Mr Watson, Mr Stormfield (it's Mr when I say so, sir, and what are you going to do about it?), and I had all, in the main, recieved gifts of one kind of alcohol or another, we may or may not have been sitting around the apartment in a sort of stupor. Even those of us with twelve rock hard abs have our limits.

There was a knock at the door. Stormfield, having the best sea legs of all of us, went to answer it. Standing there was a tall man, in knights' dress. We were all very impressed by his appearance, and as I hinted, a bit too out of it to be suspicious when he said, "Did my preciouses have a nice Christmasss?"

We said yes, we had, and would he like any kind of alcohol? He named it, we had it.

But no, he said, he was just stopping in for a minute. He would, however, like it if we would all step into the sack which he opened and spread on the ground for us. So, being good Americans, and wanting to oblige our neighbor, we stepped in and arranged ourselves as he instructed. Then (but I'm sure the intelligent reader can see this coming) he tied up the sack. The last thing I remembered hearing was something about a time warp, and then:

"Now my preciouseseseseses, I'm going to send you straight to HELL!"


I woke up with a splitting headache. The sack was still around us, but of course there was enough strength in my fingernail to shred that. I stood up, and woke the others up. They moaned. Holmes said, "Where are we?"

And Watson said, "Hell, didn't you hear?"

"Wasn't there something about a time-warp?" said Stormfield.

"Are we in... future Hell?" said Watson.

"Ah," Holmes said, as if something had just made sense. "We are. Mr. Finn sent us to Hell in the future, to prevent someone from pulling a descent into Hades and bringing us back."

I was confused.

"Ancient mythological plot device," said Holmes. "The descent into Hell to rescue somoeone who died before their time. However, Finn seems to have arranged it so that if someone did attempt that (and I don't know who would), we would not be there-here-yet, so the attempt would fail. I must say, he's covered all his bases."

So we began to wander future Hell. We wandered past Hillary Clinton, and Bill, who let out a girlish yelp at the sight of me. Barack O'Bama was there, and the Dixie Chicks--and tehre was Lucifer himself, forked tail curling, sulphur shimmering off him. But he was staring... at a gigantic big-screen TV. And suddenly Mr Holmes exclaimed:

"This isn't Hell! This is the Democratic Convention!"

Which explained the wailing and gnashing of teeth.

After that, of course, things were simple. I had a jewel buried in my sword, The Dread Gem of Ancient Lost Commikon, which had the unique quality of being able to undo a time-warp. Soon we arrived back here, plotting our revenge.