text: By Chuck Hustmyre "I get kidnapped all the time," Lumpy said. I didn't say anything. Just took a swallow of beer, hoping he wasn't about to go off on one of his stories. "I'm serious," he insisted. "I've been getting kidnapped since I was a teenager. Maybe even back before that. I just can't remember. I got some memory issues. Used to be, I thought it was aliens." "Aliens," I said. "Yeah. You remember, they were big back in the day. Lots of books and movies. Whole bunch of abduction stories. And they weren't talking about E.T. types. These were big, ugly, scary aliens, the kind that strap you to a table and stick a fork up your ass." I glanced up at the clock. Almost ten. Then I pointed to Lumpy's near-empty pint glass. "You ready for another?" But he just kept right on. "After it happens, I don't remember it, not exactly. Just a few flashes of what it was like. Then when I wake up, it's always morning. I'm always somewhere else. And I'm always naked." "Wait a minute," I said, knowing that by responding I was just encouraging him, but unable to help myself. That's how Lumpy's stories were, like some crazy vortex. Without you even noticing, they pulled you in. "You're telling me that not only have you been kidnapped several times -- " "A lot more than several," he said. "Okay, a bunch of times," I conceded. "And after, you wake up naked?" He nodded. "Where? Where have you woken up naked?" "All kinds of places." "Name one," I said. "Last time was behind the old library. I came to inside a Dumpster." "What'd you do?" "I found an old sack, wrapped it around myself, walked home." "From the old library? What is that, like four miles to your place? Wrapped in nothing but a sack?" "What else was I supposed to do?" he said. I waved to Stelly, the bartender, and held up two fingers. He nodded. "When I was nineteen," Lumpy said, "I woke up in Hammond." "Naked?" He nodded. "What happened?" I asked. "What do you think happened? A nineteen-year-old stumbling around a college town early in the morning, buck-ass naked? I got arrested. My parents had to come bail me out." "Jesus," I said. Momentarily forgetting that this story, like almost all of Lumpy's stories, was pure bullshit. "What are you guys talking about?" Stelly asked. I hadn't even seen him carrying over our two fresh pints. "Nothing really," I said. "Lump was just telling me ... " I let it trail off, not sure what else to say. Stelly laughed. "One of his famous stories?" I smiled and nodded. "Yeah. This one's a doozy," meaning to say it kind of light-hearted, but thinking it came out with more edge than I had intended. Lumpy chugged half of his beer. Stelly looked at me. "Six bucks." Lumpy rarely had money. Reason being he couldn't keep a job. I kind of figured he was dragging this kidnapping story out so he could mooch a couple of beers off me. I laid a five and two singles on the bar. As soon as Stelly walked away, Lumpy said, "After that, after what happened in Hammond, I got kind of -- " "After aliens left you naked, wandering around a town fifty miles from home." He looked at me dead serious. "Not aliens." "But you said -- " "I said I used to think it was aliens." I took a sip of beer, feeling less enthralled with Lump's tall tale after buying the first two rounds and not seeing a dime come out of his pocket. "Anyways," he said, "after Hammond, I got kind of religious." "You?" He smiled. "Believe it or not. I met this pastor. Not the TV kind, more of a regular preacher. I told him about my ... problem. And he pretty much convinced me that what was happening to me was the work of demons." I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could he pressed on. "Yeah, demons. Like The Exorcist except without ... " He made a stabbing motion toward his groin. "That stuff with the cross. And no vomiting. But, yeah, demons." "I didn't know demons kidnapped people," I said. "See, that was my problem with Pastor Mike's explanation too. But he said it weren't no kidnapping, per se. I wasn't taken anywhere, at least not by someone else. I got myself there on account of the demon possessing me. I just didn't remember it." "And you thought that made more sense than aliens?" Lumpy nodded. "I know, I know. At first I did, yeah. But after a while and after it happened a couple more times, I realized Pastor Mike's idea was even crazier than mine. What would a demon even want with me, right? What would be the point?" "Okay, let me stop you right there," I said. "What would aliens want with you?" "I figured we were more or less guinea pigs to them. Human guinea pigs. And that maybe I just got chose random like. But I figured a demon, once they was inside your head and all, would know a lot about you. So this demon, whoever he was, would probably figure out pretty quick that there ain't a whole lot special about me, and he would've moved on to someone else. But he didn't. Or it didn't. Or whatever. Because it's still happening." I shot another look at the clock. Now it was ten minutes after ten. I had to be at work at eight. About time to wrap this up. "Yeah, so this weekend," I said, "your sister wanted me to ask if you're interested in coming with us to the Beer Fest at the Rural Life Museum. She won four tickets on a radio station contest. Maybe you can bring a girl." Lumpy drained the rest of his pint in a single gulp. Burped. Then looked me straight in the eye. "I'm not going to be around this weekend." "Why not?" I asked. "Look, this thing I been telling you about, these kidnappings, they happen at regular times." He glanced up at the clock behind the bar. "Like clockwork. Next one's due to happen tonight." Engaged to his sister or not, the dude was starting to freak me out. He was racing from eccentric to bizarro and was one turn from straight-up mental case. "Tonight?" I said. "You're going to get kidnapped tonight?" He nodded. "Why don't you come stay with us, then. Bren would love to cook breakfast for you. She's always saying you don't look like you eat enough. We'll lock the house up tight. And the fold-out is not that bad." Forcing a laugh that I really didn't feel, I added, "I've slept on it once or twice myself." "You don't understand," he said. "Locks don't stop them. Not regular locks, anyway. I've tried. Once, I even chained myself to my bed. Didn't matter. I woke up the next morning in somebody's flowerbed. I have three arrests on my record for public nudity." "Hey, man, that's getting into the T.M.I. zone -- too much information." "This time, though, I have a plan." For some reason I got goosebumps and the hair stood up on my arms. "What kind of plan?" Lumpy's hands were down at the bottom of his shirt. I hadn't noticed him move them from the bar, but there they were. He lifted his shirt and flashed a gun. A black-handled silver revolver of some kind. "Holy shit!" I said. "Ssshhh." He pressed a finger to his lips. I looked down the bar. Stelly was looking at me. "What?" he said. "Nothing," I said. "Just finally got to the end of Lumpy's story." "A good one, finally?" Stelly said. I glanced at Lumpy. He was staring at me. Back to Stelly, I said, "Yeah, a good one." The bartender turned to the beer tap and pulled a pint for another customer. The gun was back out of sight under Lumpy's shirt. "What the hell are you doing with a gun?" I whispered. "Look," he said, "I've thought this out. This is the only way." "Only way to what?" He took a deep breath. "I need to be somewhere they can't get to me." "And?" "Jail. They can't get to me in jail." "I don't even understand what you're saying." I shifted in my seat, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Why are you carrying a gun?" He reached down again. I jumped. "Relax," he said, his hand reaching around to his back pocket, then tossing a folded letter-sized envelope on the bar. Despite the fold, I could see the first letters of my name scrawled across the front. "What's that?" I said. "A thousand dollars ... and a letter." My future brother-in-law barely ever had two nickels to rub together. "Where'd you get a thousand dollars?" I asked. "I been saving it. Since the last time." "Last time what?" "Last time they took me. That's when I came up with this plan." "Tell me what the plan is, Lumpy." "Okay, first let me just say this." He patted the revolver under his shirt. "It ain't loaded. I mean it is, but the shells are empty. I shot 'em over in the creek. I put the empties back in because when you're looking straight at it, from the barrel end, you could tell if there was nothing in the cylinders. I had to make it look real." I just stared at him, not knowing what to say. "So," he said, "here's the plan. I'm going to rob the bar." "Are you nuts!" I glanced down at Stelly, but he was too busy to notice my outburst. "Do you hear yourself? You're going to rob ... Wait just a damn minute." I nodded to the envelope. "You just told me you had a thousand bucks." "And a letter," he added. "What's the letter say?" I felt so much like I was dreaming that I actually pinched myself. But I didn't wake up. Lumpy didn't notice. "In the letter," he said, "I explain everything about the ... kidnappings, disappearances, abductions, whatever you want to call them. And that I'm only doing this to get locked up before midnight. See, it's always right after midnight when they come for me." "Lumpy, you don't need to get locked up. All you need is some help. You ever think that maybe this is all in your head? Something left over from that car wreck or ... Hell, I don't know. Maybe something happened to you when you were a kid." "The kidnappings started when I was a kid. I don't remember the first one. Not exactly, but I know that's when they started." "No. I mean maybe you're not really being kidnapped. That you're just ..." "Crazy?" he said. "Yeah, I thought of that. I wish I was crazy. But they leave marks -- bruises, scrapes, even punctures. One time they peeled off one of my toenails. I only remember little bits, but what I remember is that it hurts. Like hell." I pointed to the envelope. "What's the money for?" "Bond." When I didn't respond he continued. "I got this all worked out. For armed robbery there probably wouldn't be a bond. But once the cops realize my gun was unloaded, and that I left a thousand bucks with you, plus the explanation in that letter, I figure they'll -- " "You can't possibly expect the police to believe you're being abducted by aliens." "No. No. Not at all. And it's not aliens, by the way." "So what do you think they're going to think? The cops, I mean." "It doesn't matter, but they'll probably only charge me with first-degree robbery. I figure even a crappy public defender can get my bond down to ten thousand." He pushed the envelope closer to me. "And that's what the thousand's for. A bondsman charges ten percent." "And you want me to bail you out of jail?" He nodded. "With my money." "I'm not doing it." I stood up. He grabbed my arm. "I really need this." "You need a shrink is what you need." I tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. I saw him look over at the clock. It was ten thirty. Stelly was walking toward us. "Here goes nothing," Lumpy said. Stelly stopped in front of us. "You guys want a couple more?" Lumpy let go of my arm and pulled the revolver. He shoved it in Stelly's face, an inch from his nose. The bartender's eyes got wide. "Hey, what the -- " Lumpy cocked the hammer. "I'm robbing you, Stell." I looked past Lumpy and Stelly. Everybody else in the bar heard the hammer ratchet back. They were all looking at us. "Give me everything in the till," Lumpy said in a loud voice. Stelly cut his eyes toward me. "How about you? You part of this too?" I shook my head. "He's gone crazy, Stell. I don't know what he's doing. Just give him the money and he'll be gone." Stelly nodded. "All right, Lumpy. You can have the money." Lumpy sprang over the bar. He walked Stelly to the cash register and stuffed the bills into his pockets. While everyone watched them, I slipped the envelope off the bar and into my jeans. Lumpy crawled back over the bar, keeping the revolver pointed at Stelly. "I'm sorry," he said. Stelly's face was like stone. But you could still read the hurt in it. Lumpy and I had been meeting up for beers here for three years, ever since I started seeing Lumpy's sister. "All right," Stelly said. "We're finished, right?" Lumpy nodded. I swear I saw a tear in his eye. Then he just ran. Right past me and out the door. Stelly let out a big sigh. He pointed at me. "I'm calling the cops. Don't you go anywhere." The police found Lumpy fifteen minutes later, sitting at an all-night diner two blocks from the bar. Sipping coffee. At the police station he invoked his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination and refused to answer questions. The cops told him they'd get him a lawyer, a public defender, but not until morning. They put him in a holding cell just before midnight. The next morning I went to check on him. The desk sergeant said Lumpy had escaped. "How?" I asked. "We think he must have slicked himself up with soap and water," the sergeant said, "then somehow slipped through the bars. One thing I can't figure, though." "What's that?" I asked. "Why he left all his clothes.