I never wanted to go to fucking prom
I never wanted to go to fucking prom.
Prom. The pinnacle of high school awkwardness. Naturally, my so-called friends thought it would be hilarious to drag my nihilistic ass to this cesspool of teenage hormones. Nico, the life of the party, they said. More like Nico, the guy who contemplates the meaningless void while half the cheer squad twerks to cringeworthy pop songs. And yet, there I was, sitting in a limo. Decked out in a sleek black tuxedo and matching Converse. My friends had scored the ultimate ride – a self-driving smart limousine, courtesy of my buddy's dad. He was a VP at some fancy AI company. The limo was still in beta, a prototype, and the old man warned us not to mess with its programming. But teenagers never listen, do they?
It takes all of five minutes for someone to suggest Fireball shots. Of course, the AI refuses, like it's the morality police. My friends, with the collective IQ of a sack of hammers, turn to me because I'm apparently the computer nerd. Right. One com sci class and an ability to Google, but whatever you say.
"Come on, Nico, work your magic on this keypad," urged Josh, a dude with more muscles than brains. He thrust a sly grin my way, as if hacking into the limo's system was as easy as swiping left on Tinder.
Fuck it, peer pressure works, my friends! I shrugged and approached the keypad, punching in random combinations I hoped would impress my audience. To my surprise, the limo's AI responded with what it thought was sparkling water. We took a sip, and the metallic tang hinted it wasn't quite the Perrier we expected. They thought it was vodka; I thought it tasted like melted robot. I took one sip and gave up; they chugged like there was no tomorrow.
Soon enough, their laughter morphed into strange giggles, and their conversation took a turn for the bizarre.
"Did you hear that? The walls are whispering, man," Josh barked, his eyes darting around the interior of the limo.
Sarah, wide-eyed and giggling uncontrollably, chimed in, "I can taste colors. Seriously, guys, it's like a rainbow in my mouth!"
I eyed my friends warily, wondering if they were just wasted or if this was something more.
Attempting to break the tension, I pointed out a billboard for a movie called "The Imposter." I read the tagline aloud "'when the killer is among you, who can you trust?'"
I rolled my eyes, "So it's basically just Carpenter's The Thing with some shitty CGI?"
This was usually the kind of shit we would dissect for hours over 2am pancakes at Denny's. But right now, you could hear the air move. Deadly silence, my friends' beady, bloodshot eyes all blinked out at me in twitchy unison - like they all shared a collective delusion, and I was the enemy
"The Imposter? Why would you say that?"
"I dunno, I just saw it and thought it looked dumb." I chuckled nervously.
"You're the imposter. You're The Thing, I saw your head grow legs and crawl into my spine."
"Me too! I saw his tongue melt on the floor and try to drown us! We have to stop him."
"He wants us dead. He hates prom. He admits it!"
I suddenly became aware of the circle that had formed around me. I felt like I was in a mosh pit with the walking dead. The guys began tearing off their ties, and stretching them between their hands. I couldn't help but feel a knot of dread forming in my stomach as they closed in, their makeshift ropes dangling ominously.
They lunged, tightening their ties around my wrists and ankles, their anxious faces betraying a bizarre mix of determination and paranoia. It was like they were conducting a ritual, and I was the unwitting sacrifice.
"You're not tying me up with those," I protested, but Lisa's eyes gleamed with newfound determination.
"Just in case," she said ominously, pulling the knots tighter.
"His voice is evil, it's squeezing my brain into juice" Lisa squealed.
"Yeah, let's gag him!" Colin added, his eyes narrowing as if he could see through my very soul.
As they debated how to neutralize my apparent vocal toxicity, panic set in. I pleaded with them, trying to reason.
"I can't take this anymore!" Lisa exclaimed, ripping off one of my Chucks with a surprising fervor.
Before I could even register what was happening, the taste of rubber, dirt and canvas invaded my mouth. I gagged, desperately trying to spit it out.
The sensation of the shoe filling my mouth was oppressive, suffocating. I could feel the contours of the sole against my tongue.
In a panic, they demanded the AI give them glue, and the limo obediently supplied the adhesive. My heart raced. The shoe, now a makeshift gag, was coated in glue and shoved back into my mouth like some kind of medieval dental device.
The glue, applied hastily in their absurd desperation, hardened around my lips. It was a sensation both foreign and terrifying. With each passing moment, the rubber and glue melded into a macabre partnership, sealing my fate.
I'll own it - I cried. In 18 years I thought I'd seen everything and knew everything. Well, I'd never seen this.
They ordered the limo to pull over along the quiet rural road. They hoisted me up and threw me into the trunk, satisfied that I was no longer a threat. I felt the soft purr of the limo as the electric engine reignited, and on we rolled. Presumably to prom, but how would I know? I didn't know at that point if I ever wanted to see them again - whether the next time they'd sober up and apologize, or cut my throat and dump me in a river.
I guess at some point the limo's AI picked up a faint heartbeat and realized I was locked in the trunk. It opened, revealing the harsh bite of morning's sunlight. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to my surrounding - it was definitely the next day. Maybe the day after next? I don't know how long you can stay alive tied up inside a car trunk, but I was definitely still breathing. We had driven to a motel - I recognized it, we were supposed to have a room booked for after prom. I guess the party continued without me.
Thank God.
I saw some EMTs wheel a bed past, zipping a body bag closed over my "friend" Lisa.
What the fuck?
And, I guess that's why I'm here? At least, that's all I can remember up to now. I told you guys everything I know.
I'm in an interrogation room. The cops brought me. I'm not tied up in ties any more. Now I'm locked in handcuffs and shackles.
Fuck my life.
They've heard me tell this story a few dozen times, and I guess it's not sounding that credible. They have surveillance footage from the limo - of me quote unquote hacking into the system and making it serve a toxic cocktail of sparkling water, vodka and... sorry, did you say engine coolant? Well, look if you think I did all that intentionally then you must think I'm a fucking evil genius. I had no idea what that thing could do. I guess the coolant fucked with their minds. Seeped into their brains and made them hallucinate as they slowly died. Dying without even realizing it. I dunno, it might be preferable considering what's likely going to happen to me now.
And I want this on record - I never wanted to go to fucking prom.
