“Oh I’m sure you do,” I said sarcastically. “Are you reading from the script for Taken?”

I watched Anthony bend down and pull a sheet off something which had been resting behind his chair. The disappearance of the sheet revealed a podium, about knee-high. He stepped up onto the thing, squared me up and took a very deep breath.

After his exhale, Anthony broke down into what I can only describe as a “pose down” as Anthony proceeded to bust out into just about every kind of body builder pose imaginable. I closed my eyes after about 10 seconds. It was too much to take in.

I kept my eyes closed until I felt something wet drip onto the top of my right eyelid.

“What the fuck?”

I saw Anthony’s golden bronze-smeared hand dripping Super Glue onto my upper right eyelid before I could try and move.

“Hold still, you’re only going to make it worse,” Anthony whispered as he turned his attention to my left eye and shoved the tube of glue right towards my eyeball.

I tried to blink my right eye, but the skin wouldn’t budge, just burn. It was officially glued open and my eye was locked on one of Anthony’s posters taped up on the wall.

“Just do whatever you’re going to do motherfucker. I don’t even care anymore,” I spat up at Anthony. “If I’m going to look at you posing looking like a gold figure on a trophy, I don’t care.”

“No!” Anthony screamed right in my glued face and then walked away towards the desktop computer set up on a rickety desk across the room.

Anthony’s momentary distance gave me some time to catch my breath and try to think of a plan. Unfortunately, the best I was able to come up with was just scream as loud as I could and hope someone was around to hear me and investigate, or call the cops. It was a pretty shitty plan, especially given that I definitely had a feeling that I was in a house and not an apartment building. I could be in the woods in western New Jersey or deep Pennsylvania for all I knew.