> Go Your Own Way > by Limits > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Why, Yes, I Had a Very Good Day Today > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Look, I don’t know if you were listening or not, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about or why you’re in my home…which has a good old police-sized dent in it right now. I’m starting to get peeved, and you haven’t presented a warrant. Could you—PLEASE—get out of my house?” Struck Chord shot daggers out of his eyes at the police—no, these couldn’t be police, right? Okay, they were probably lawyers dressed up as policemen. One mystery resolved, he still shot daggers at the lawyers from his eyes, hidden by shades with a tint of pink. The ordinary unicorn by day (and rambunctious pop singer by night) tried to think back. What had happened in his life so far that would bring him this fate? Yeah, so far it had only been a hole in his roof, and—were those police ponies unconscious? Struck Chord took a closer look. Yeah, they were dead to the world. Gonzo. Mexicanter jumping beans without the spring. Horsefeathers. “Now,” he said to himself, tapping a hoof on the ground apprehensively, “I have a hole in my roof, two ‘police pegasi’ conked at my hooves, and the burglar alarm going off; I’m just waiting to be arrested for burglary and assault. Awesome.” In truth, it had been the police pegasi—he corrected himself, they were definitely lawyers—that had flown in through his—yes, it was his roof, though the police didn’t know that—roof, and right into a guitar that he had had made with a surprisingly hard material. ‘Owch’ pretty much summed it up. It summed it up quite well indeed. Carefully looking around to make sure that he wasn’t being seen by the neighbors (one can never be too sure), he levitated the lawyers by their tails and put them into their fancy-schmancy carriage. Yep, the two weren’t police. The real police would have hoofed it (or flown), just like those ones were that were coming right up to his house… Struck Chord let a small “meep” escape him. “G-good day, officers.” “Right back at you. We’ll just be investigating something that happened around here. Mind if we cut through here?” Inwardly, the unicorn breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, officers, that’s fine by me. Mind if I ask about it?” “Well, we’re not quite sure, but we have think your neighbor here is guilty of embezzlement.” Struck Chord retreated into his home. Trotting on shaky knees, he collapsed into his bed, simply breathing for long minutes. Before he knew it, it was already some time into the afternoon, bordering on evening. He realized he hadn’t read the newspaper yet, and read it over dinner. While taking a drink and looking at the temperature section, he spilled right on that night’s temperature. Frantically trying to salvage it with his hoof only made it worse. Well, he might either freeze to death tonight or boil to death. The weather had been weird lately, what was he going to be surprised about? What could possibly go wrong, right? His thoughts were flung back in his face when he found himself in a dark room, bound and gagged. “No problem,” he said to himself. Struck Chord attempted to undo the knots, but soon found these ‘knots’ were actually just bumps in the rope for no reason whatsoever. Oh, and that the rope he was bound with was securely fastened to the wall. Not with knots, either. He heard the scratching of a quill in the next room. “Maybe I should make a noise, to see if they know I’m here.” He rethought that when a new idea crossed his mind. It was probably the kidnapper making a ransom note. The longer they didn’t know Struck Chord was awake, the more likely it was that they would divulge their plan. “Hey, scrawny. You’re awake.” He/she/it hadn’t even bothered to change out of it. It was the lawyer, still wearing that police uniform, which only made Struck Chord struggle harder. “Hehe, don’t think about getting out.” “You might…as well tell me…what I’m doing here,” Struck Chord said through the blindfold in his mouth, catching his breath. The pegasus he was addressing looked at him hesitantly, and looked towards the door to the other room. His victim assumed that he had gotten a signal from there. “Well, the boss says you’re supposed to be burned at the stake, ‘cuz you steal songs from another planet or something. Like, future reading or something. You got any lighter fluid?” “I’m a cover artist! I don’t have to stop if I don’t get a cease-and-desist. And it’s not future reading!” That’s what he would have said in reply if he hadn’t been gagged. What he said instead sounded like, “Khhh shsh. Ynna oo kd bbbkk.” “I’m sorry, what?” His captor said, confused. He apparently got another signal from ‘Boss’, and undid the gag. Struck Chord sighed, shutting up now that the lawyer could understand him. “Nothing.” “Look, stick-head, I don’t have all day. I gotta get you burned.” Oh, shut up! These lawyers were stupider than the chicken that crossed Cloudsdale traffic. With a deft stroke from his horn (a sharp one, I might add), the rope was severed, and Struck Chord was running. In his tearing through the quarters, he found the ‘Boss’ who was writing what appeared to be his ransom note. Struck Chord levitated it close to his horn and made off with it. Thinking it would be a good idea, he padlocked the door as well. Now, let’s take a look at this scenario for a bit. We have a unicorn, wearing tinted shades, in front of a door that he’s about to bust open, with a padlocked door behind him. In turn, behind this padlocked door, there are two pegasi banging on the door, trying to get out. Floating beside the aforementioned unicorn is what looks to be a ransom note. Struck Chord broke open the door. “Oh, yes!” The police were gathered outside the door as well, and one of them stepped forward, saying: “You the kidnapper? You’re coming with us.”