MaryAnne and I were on holiday where one day we were both abducted and transported to a place I have no clue of its location.

I am in a room that is all white including the ceiling, floor, the table I am handcuffed to and the chair I sit on. MaryAnne is nowhere to be found.

A man walked into the room and gave me specific instructions of choices I have to make within the next ten minutes. My face remained calm but my insides trembled at the prospect of the bleak and dire choices I had.

To say the least, this was both intimidating and frightening. The choices in the biggest sense weren't optimal no matter how I saw them. There wouldn't be any winners to come out of this ... unless the man was lying and I was for some strange reason being tested on my intellect. But if he was telling the truth, whatever my final choice, the outcome would prove fatal.

Between my handcuffed wrists sat a small round bell the size of a buzzer you would see outside by a front door of someone's home. I had to either press it once or press it twice, or not press it at all. They were my only options to the choices I was given. For the first time in my life, I was genuinely frightened at the prospects before me.

If I chose to press the buzzer once, I would die but MaryAnn would live. If I chose to ring the buzzer twice, both MaryAnne and I would be set free, but ten-million people would die. As it was said to me, ten-million strangers I did not know. If I chose to do nothing, I would live but MaryAnne would die. With the first and last choice, the ten-million strangers would live.

I've heard of and read about torture rooms before but this time I was in a place where I was being mentally tortured. My body was soaked in sweat.

And then I wondered, were they doing this same thing with MaryAnne? Was she also given this insane ultimatum? Was this some kind of sick prank to test our love for each other? Did she put a few of her friends together to test me?

Doubts. Nagging self-centered doubts. Of course she wouldn't. Would she?

The man returned and said I have one minute left. I became even more nervous and scared and not controlling myself, I felt the warm rush of pee saturate my clothing.

My hands edged to the buzzer and my index finger of my right hand hovered over it. Blinking the sweat away, my finger twitched, my body trembled.

Ten seconds he said flatly.

I looked at him nervously when he said my time was up.

He pulled out a pistol, leveled it at me and then I heard a ringing gunshot.

He never let any emotion enter into his voice when he said MaryAnne made the same choice I did. Then he fired the gun.

No winners.

I wonder what it’s like

connecting the other 

side of the big picture

there in the box with its

covert channels, padded

walls, parental locks, and 

yellow wall paper views

must be something on high

definition to Know

the makings of the canned

living ever laughter... 

what’s heated on the hour

as intratemplar feed

in the dark red chem rooms 

...developing the Thou

Art image all of man

will see and miscopy....

a strange kind of crazy

that no one gets sent off

if in analysis...

for all the odd grotesque

things that make us “happy”

there’s always room for more

we’ll just loosen a notch

on this trusty old lobota-

metric belt... and...

#tortureroom #challenge

Seats with little leg room.

Air that dries, sting your eyes.

Earphones that hardly work,

Playing the best Muzak around.

Movies just for kiddies,

Neighbors that just frown,

And you between,

Begging passage

To the microwave oven-sized stall.

Tomato juice, but no salt.

Trays that slice through the fat.

Snoring boring, choppy ride.

The food’s getting much better though...