I awoke, sitting in a shroud of pain. I opened my eyes.

**** YOU, said the lipstick on the ceiling.

I closed my eyes again and focused on breathing. The motion of the car and the sound of the windshield wipers was surprisingly soothing. Or, as soothing as anything can be when you're bleeding and bruised and probably have a few broken ribs. The smell of burned plastic and urine didn't help much, though....

Burned plastic and urine?

"Hey buddy," said the person sitting next to me.

I think I remember this from somewhere...

"Looks like he's finally awake" said a familiar voice.

"Hey, hey buddy," the guy next to me said again.

"Can you please not talk to me?" I managed to say through the pain.

"Huh," he said, dissapointed, "ok then."

I heard a rustling sound as if he was getting something out of his pocket. Silence. Then, a bite. The faintest aroma of the amazing, softball sized muffin in his hand wafted lazily into my bleeding nostrils.

"What the ****!" I exclaimed sitting up and opening my eyes. As I had expected, it was, in fact, a softball sized muffin.

"Oh, now you want to talk?"

I looked up at its owner, wearing a trench coat.

....

I looked up at its owner, wearing a trench coat....?

"What the ****!?" I yelled, "what the ****!?"

"Whatttuuppp!" said Trenchcoat, as if he was the surprise guest at a bro's birthday party. 

"What the ****!"

"Dude, we get it, you're surprised," said Trenchcoat, "now maybe you can remember some other vocabulary?"

My heart was pounding. I tried to take deep breaths to calm down. It wasn't working. I noticed eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. I moved my head to get a better view of the driver. He was wearing that stupid bright red Billabong shirt and beige cargo shorts.

Terry!

"You ****!" I screamed, surprising myself. I lunged at him with a punch to the face and then wrapped my hands around his thick neck.

The car swerved as he tried to shake me off.

WHAM

Trenchcoat's punch was not lightning quick like Terry's but it still hurt.

"We can't have you doin' that, dude," said Trenchcoat, amicable as always, "you're gonna get us in an accident."

"Geez, what was that for?" Terry asked, sounding hurt, as if he'd done nothing wrong.

"What was that for!? I've gotten my **** nearly killed like, four times in the last 48 hours because of you!" I screamed at him, "first the kettle nonsense, then that **** bar and the fauxmos, and then that Gorilla ****!"

"Yeah, we messed you up pretty good, didn't we," said Terry with a chuckle. Then as an afterthought, "wait, what about the fauxmos? You mean at the bar?"

"Those **** jumped me in a parking lot that night!"

"Damn, dude," Trenchcoat said, "you just get your **** beat by everyone, huh?"

"**** the both of you," I said, "how are you even alive by the way? I stabbed you, man. I **** watched your body burn."

"Yeah, thanks for that, dick," said Trenchcoat, "but luckily you didn't do much more, or else it would have been harder for the goon- erm, Enforcers to find me."

Terry gave Trenchcoat a disapproving look through the rearview mirror.

"But how?" I asked.

"Nuh-uh, dude," said Trenchcoat, "not going down that road again. Last time I gave you a tip, you stabbed my stupid **** and set me on fire. Very not cool."

"Fine, don't tell me," I said looking out the window. I was trying very hard to act calm and natural throughout all this, but my heart was still racing in my chest. This was the worst situation I could be in. Terry was an **** and big, but he was still just a guy (as far as I knew), Trenchcoat on the other hand was unpredictable and now unkillable (and also an ****). I had no idea how I was getting out of this.

"So what are you going to do with me?" I asked.

"Oh, right," Trenchcoat said, like he'd forgotten to buy the milk, "we're totally gonna take you back to my house and kill you. Slowly."

My eyes bulged as sweat peppered my forehead, "what?! Why?"

"You can't really be that stupid," said Trenchcoat, "dude, you totally killed me. You don't think I'd want to, you know, get the whole 'revenge' thing on you? That and you didn't kill Simmons for me in the time I set."

"What? But I still have time!" I said weakly, "I've got until tomorrow!"

"Dude, it's like 4:00AM," he said, "it is tomorrow."

"Wait, no," I was getting very scared and desperate, "I can still kill him for you."

"Too late," said Trenchcoat, "that ship has sailed. I'll just have to go and do it myself."

"Is that wise?" Terry interrupted, "it would be a gamble. Even for you."

"Can't be helped, I guess," Trenchcoat said, "I'll just have to risk it."

"What about that flying guy on TV?" asked Terry, "think he's connected to any of this?"

They didn't know about Timmy! Finally, for the first time I felt like I actually had the upper hand on someone. Now, if only I could figure out how to make this information useful.

"Whatever, I doubt he should be cause for much concern," Trenchcoat said after some thought. Then, turning his attention to me, "hey, how did you get away from the Gorilla, anyway. I thought for sure he'd kill you."

"You have your secrets," I said, looking him in the eyes, "and I have mine."

"Aw, that's cute," said Trenchcoat with a laugh, "he's trying to act tough."

"Hey, why does this car smell like piss?" I asked, trying to change the subject before getting more humiliated and terrified.

"It was the **** woman!" said Terry, "that **** chick from the bar. After you so nobly helped me beat those fauxmos' asses, I took the blond chick out to dinner."

"So she peed on your car?" I asked.

"No, I did."

"What?"

"Will you just let me finish?" said Terry, "anyway, she was plastered and asked to smoke while I was talking to the boss on the phone. Well, wouldn't you know it, dumb broad sets my car on fire while my back is turned."

"I don't see how that leads to you pissing on it."

"Well, I had to put the fire out, didn't I?" said Terry, "I didn't have any water and didn't see any fire extinguishers around."

"So you pissed it out?" I almost laughed, then grew very sad. The thought that my captors, and most likely killers, were this **** stupid was very depressing.

"What an idiot, right?" Trenchcoat laughed and put his hand up to give me a high five. Do you see what I'm talking about?

I just looked at him.

"Oh. Right." he said.

The car came to a stop. Terry turned off the engine and got out.

"You should probably get ready," said Trenchcoat as he opened his door.

"Ready?" I asked.

"To be murdered, dude," he said with his usual friendly laugh.

**** me indeed (again)