Procedures For Being Kidnapped

Karl is going to be kidnapped today. He is unaware of this inevitable fact as his hand groggily reached out to turn off the increasingly annoying sound blaring from his alarm clock.
Recently, every noise seems to be on a mission to piss off Karl to the point of madness. He sat up and sat there for a bit as he tried to stop the urge of going back to sleep while reviewing how deep in the gutter his life had gone after the recent events of the past month. One of the contributing factors for this existential hangover was the fact that his then girlfriend had driven out of his life – with his car – and presumably with the mailman or a yoga instructor; whoever people cheat on other people with nowadays. This was of course, pretty devastating for him since that car got him to work everyday – he worked across the city at a construction site for a grand strip club paid with drug money - and he had to commute to work for a few weeks now. He could care less about his ex since he knew she was some sort of skank, he just didn’t know she was the sort of skank who took her ex-boyfriend’s car.
When he finally got up, he went over to brew himself a cup of tea. While rubbing his bloodshot eyes, he caught a glimpse of a dirty white van through his shabby window. It was the sort of van that hippies used to drive back in the 70’s, just without the colours of a tie-dye shirt and the peace sign painted on the side sliding door. Who knows? Maybe it did, and the new non-hippie owner just painted over it with white.
‘Oh bugger,’ he muttered as he stopped stirring his tea. He had forgotten to buy more milk and he absolutely couldn’t drink his tea without milk in it. It would be utterly pointless otherwise. So he called the foreman at the site, who promptly told him that he “didn’t bloody give a fuck” whether if he had an STI or some rare blood disease, he had better get his arse down to the site or they would miss their deadline and the triads would be at their doorstep.
Naturally, no one wants triads on their doorsteps. Just last week on the news, a poor bugger was first brutally tortured and then mercifully murdered; the police wouldn’t have suspect the triads at all if it wasn’t for the tiny little evidence of having their gang sign carved on the bloke’s forehead.
He wistfully drained his milk-less tea down the sink, got on his trousers, adjusted his hard hat, and locked the door behind him before a bag was unexpectedly placed over his head. This is about the time Karl got kidnapped. By no means was the bag covering his head immediately, as the hard hat made his head considerably larger. He was still confused why a bag was being struggled onto his head when some rough arms manhandled him around and after a pause, got punched very hard in the gut. He panicked and wondered how the triad got a whiff of his incompetence so quickly.
‘I swear I’m heading off to work! If you let me live and give me another chance, I will go to work everyday of my life now! If you chaps would like one of my kidneys to sell, I’d be totally fine, honestly, I won’t struggle at all, promise!’
Of course, he was lying his strawberry tart out to the men, even if he didn’t need a second kidney, he was sure illegal extractions of organs didn’t come with morphine benefits and on top of that, he might be losing a bit more than just a kidney. He was hoping he could make a break for it when they placed him on the operation table. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go to work everyday either.
His assailants, who were dragging him, stopped dragging him for a bit.
‘We dun care, a’ight? We’re just ‘ere to kidnap you, you twat,’ said one of the triads who sounded awfully Russian, which struck Karl as peculiar. When did the triads start to accept applications for thugs with Russian accents? Karl pondered about this for a bit before he heard a sliding door open and was thrown in, but not very successfully since he hit his head on the top lining of the entrance.
The car immediately started to veer off.
‘So… uhm… why am I being kidnapped?’
‘We’re holdin’ ya up for ransom, now shut yer bleedin’ mouth or I’ll fuckin’ sock ya konk,’ said a triad with Scottish accents – Karl seriously started to doubt they were triads now - who promptly gave Karl a good fist to his nose anyway.
‘Ohww!’ yelled Karl, who held his nose tenderly.
‘Och, bleedin’ ‘ell, yeh forgot to tie dis un up, Ivon! Shite, das’ ‘ow da last un got away, ya smart “basterd”!’ The way the low-life said “basterd” was a dead giveaway to Karl that he wasn’t dealing with triads, which really didn’t make the situation any better.
One of the thugs groaned and rustled about.
Karl’s hands suddenly had some rope binding them together quite tightly. His bloody nose was flowing freely now.
‘Christ! Did you cunts really have to dislocate my nose? Aw geez, you guys aren’t the triads are you?’ queried a bloody, blind Karl.
‘Wot? We de chinks? Do I look like a bleedin’ chink to you?’ laughed the Scot uproariously. The Russian chuckled in a vehement way. It was like “Heh-HEH-Heh” and it made him sound like a dunce oaf.
‘Can’t really say, my eyes are covered,’
Quite abruptly, the bag was ripped off his head and the hard hat went with it. Karl noticed how no one was Chinese, except for the driver, who coincidentally came with a bowl cut. He drove on calmly, seemingly oblivious to the events going on. The Russian looked like the generic bouncer type who didn’t talk and the Scot looked like he had just left an IRA recruiting centre. They all had ski masks on except for the Chinese, whom Karl presumed didn’t need one since he looked like the typical Chinese guy. Going to Chinatown would allow him to perfectly camouflage in with the crowd.
The Scot jabbed his finger at Karl and leered at him, ‘Feelin’ cocky today, aren’t chya?’
‘Well, it’s just that I don’t really have anyone to pay off the ransom. Don’t kidnappers do their homework before actually kidnapping? Like background checks or at least ask around or something. I’m sure my idiot pub buddies wouldn’t mind giving you that kind of information and we wouldn’t be in this bit of a hassle now, wouldn’t we? God, my nose fucking hurts.’
The Scot paused for a bit, thinking.
‘Och, yer bloody ‘ight,’ He said after rubbing his stubble for a while, ‘Wot do you reckon we do wit ya then?’
‘I suppose you could drop me off at work? And I suggest you kidnap my foreman, he’s a straight up wanker, no one likes him, and plus, his father is loaded. His old man is the head of the construction company, so getting his family to cough up wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Eh? ‘Ow will we be gettin’ ‘im out den? It’s not like we can just fuckin’ march ‘ight in ‘n’ grab da lil fucker.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that I got that covered.’
Karl paused for a bit, and then asked, ‘by the way, how come the Chinese guy is so quite the whole time? He’s so damn calm.’
‘Oh, Xiang Xiao? Lil fucker is deaf as- as- well, he’s just fuckin’ deaf, but he’s de only un who has a driver’s card. Used to be a ricer, yeh? Fuckin’ ace of a driver.’ Then he added, ‘And he doesn’t speak Brit, not dat he diddin learn it or nothin’, mind you, he just got un of those concussion dat render ‘im useless wit English… ‘E speaks Icelandic now, God knows why, he nev’r been to da bloody place.’
*****************
‘Hey Keith, some blokes are outside waiting to see you.’
‘The shite happen to your nose, Karl? Yeh, I really don’t fucking mind that you’re getting my carpet bloody, eh? Fucking twat, you’re cleaning that up with your tongue since I doubt you could buy this sort of good shite with your payroll.’
‘They say they got a surprise for you.’
The bloody carpet forgotten, Keith suddenly noticed Karl had something to say.
‘Eh? What kind of surprise?’ He asked, suddenly standing up and edging towards the door.
‘Well, it’s a bloody surprise, innit? I can’t tell you, it would ruin the whole fucking surprise, wouldn’t it?’
‘Don’t you give me attitude, you fucker, I’ll teach you who’s the boss around here, you little cunt. You’re fucked in the arse when I get back.’ Keith did a throat-slitting motion and then shuffled off greedily towards the door.
Karl heard a muffled scream a few seconds afterwards and that was the last he ever saw Keith again.