i have this vision of the guy chained in some kind of dark basement type place that was once a fun center for kids and has all of the dopey signs for 'FRIENDZONE' everywhere complete with some kind of cheezy/disturbing mascot wearing a fedora. (i may have to write a horror short featuring this concept now...)
Derek was pleased. Not only had he successfully managed to get the number for the hottest woman at the party, but she agreed to go on a date. His buddy Chad was mildly insulted but chose to sit and work on trying to make a girl that was almost as pretty cry with his backhanded comments as he drank his craft brew. Derek gave Chad a thumbs up as the blond woman he had his date arranged with came over to him and took him by the hand to lead him off elsewhere. Chad flipped him the bird with a smirk.
Sheila was pleased. Her mark was textbook perfect. He had the cheap tanning booth look, over priced sun glasses, and all the charm of the plastic doll he was desperately attempting to imitate with out knowing it. His hair was cut in the latest style and his clothes were top shelf brands. Derek, as he called himself, was an utter boor with a penchant for pick up lines. Sheila did her best to play coy until he decided to be persistent. Then she let him decide that she was interested and plan to go on a date.
She gave him the number for the last mark. He was excited, impulsive, and thinking entirely with his gonads. Now, usually, Sheila would have waited for the date. Derek, however, was repulsive enough that he decided agreement to a date was consent to spike her drink and do whatever he wished later when she was drugged. This annoyed Sheila, so she moved her time table up the same time she switched drinks with him when was distracted by someone calling his name.
They had gotten their coats and Derek was showing signs of the drug/alcohol combination taking effect. He tried to say that he was good to drive. Sheila changed his mind with a suggestive comment about a woman taking control as she steered him towards the sidewalk. She raised a hand and hailed a cab. Derek was stumbling as she helped him into the car. He was rambling about something but Sheila ignored him. The cab stopped at the shopping center. Sheila paid the fare and helped Derek out of the vehicle. They walked towards a shelter where she claimed an associate was going to meet them. The cab drove off thinking nothing of it.
Sheila let Derek rest for a minute as they sat in the shelter. He said something about lewd plans involving Sheila and her 'girlfriend' and she laughed. Feeling encouraged by her laughter, he spewed something more vulgar in a drunken slur. Sheila helped him up to his feet and they walked past the entrance into the main shopping area. With her hood up, Sheila's face was well hidden as they walked along. Derek liked the idea of an adventure and tried to take the lead. When they reached the place she was planning to take him, Derek looked around.
Taking her key out of her pocket, Sheila opened the door and motioned Derek in. He peered in the gloom, trying to figure out what about the place seemed so wrong aside from the dark. Sheila laughed at his discomfort and said it was nothing to worry about. As she popped on her flash light and lead him through a maze of dust covered tables, Derek's sense that something was absolutely wrong with the scenario grew stronger. Sheila looked at him with a manic smile and told him "This is a happy, fun place. You'll love it here." Derek tried to lurch away from here but Sheila moved with him, backing him up against a pillar.
"Oh hush," she cooed, "You were the one looking for a little adventure." As she rubbed her body against him, Derek groaned a little. That was his last clear memory.
Eight hours later, he woke up. A giant donkey wearing a fedora cocked jauntily on its head was sitting before him. Derek screamed. The donkey didn't move. That was when he realized that it was Dick the Donkey, mascot of the failed chain of arcade and entertainment restaurants known as the Friendzone. There were a few other mascots, like Willy the Worm and Mr. Happy the Smiling Snake. Derek came to the Friendzone for a few birthday parties when he was in his single digits. The donkey disturbed him greatly, he had nightmares.
"Ok, this isn't funny," he said to the person wearing the plush costume. There was no answer. There was no noise at all. For a moment, the old fear that the smiling Dick the Donkey was going to hack him to death with a machete came to mind. As he began to think more clearly, Derek realized his left ankle felt like there was something on it. He looked down and discovered he had one end of a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs strapped around his ankle. The other was fixed to what was once a tie down for a faux tent in that 'party' section. Derek reached down to try to pull the cuff off. That was when he realized there was good old fashioned American made steel underneath that neon pink fluff.
Derek looked up. Dick the Donkey didn't move. Derek looked around and saw a hacksaw sitting on the table beside him, just in reach. He picked it up. He leaned down to saw at the chain between the cuffs and realized he couldn't get the right angle. His only way out was mutilation. And Dick the Donkey didn't move. Derek looked around again, realizing that he couldn't see the front of the building. He couldn't hear the sounds of traffic or anyone in the other buildings. He forgot that the Friendzone was built like an impenetrable bunker so that none could hear kiddies screaming with glee. Derek looked at Dick the Donkey.
"You don't have the key, do you, Dick?" The donkey's head drooped forward. "Hey, asshole!" Derek screamed, "Do you have the key to get me out of this?" There was no response. With his free leg, Derek kicked out and managed to catch the costumed figure in the knee. The plush over sized head tumbled off. A dessicated male corpse stared emptily ahead. Derek screamed. He slapped his pockets as he awkwardly found his feet. No phone, no keys, nothing. He flopped back into the chair, wrenching his ankle, and sobbed. He was trapped.
