Ransom, Lose Some

My sympathy goes out to the girl who tried to fake her kidnapping last week—hey, I've been there, sister. Whether you're just trying to get attention or making a serious bid for money, it doesn't matter, they always catch you. All these successful kidnapping movies you see just make you think you can get away with it—Ransom, Silence of the Lambs… actually, they didn't get away with it, so maybe the movies are innocent on this one.

I never got away with any of my fake kidnappings. I had enough real ones to establish some credibility that someone actually thought I was steal-worthy, but I wasn't very good at pulling off hoaxes. I like fresh air too much, I suppose, which is probably what the Wisconsin girl's problem was. She was seen parading around town, buying hoax supplies like hoax rope and joke knives and shit. I only hung out in neighborhoods, I never went on shopping sprees or anything. That's one for Clarissa.

Come to think of it, I was usually between 9 and 13 when I faked my kidnappings. What was her excuse? By college age I sure had enough brains to b.s. my way to a convincing kidnapping. Something really believable, like there were two kidnappers, one looked like Danny Terio but a little Horschacky in the face, and the other one had a big beard and looked like Grizzly Adams, but despite his menacing appearance, he was the one who was kind to me—brought me cold sodas and let me watch TV on a portable black-and-white set. Occasionally they would get nervous when they thought cops might be closing in, so they hid me in a closet in a burlap bag but the big one gave me a flashlight because I was scared of the dark. I could hear them through the door, arguing about whether or not they should just kill me and forget the money, but the big guy resisted, given his sweet nature. Eventually the nervous Danny Terio-Horschacky guy lost his cool and tried to ice me with a knife, but the big guy wrestled him away and had to snap his neck to stop him, but not before Danny Terio-Horschacky stabbed him in the belly. Regretful, he freed me from the closet and drove me to a bus station where I could contact my parents, and I asked him if he would be alright, and he said he would, but he was bleeding too bad and messing up the interior of his 1982 Pontiac Firebird. I got out and waved good-bye, knowing I'd never see him again, and that's how I managed to get away, but I don't know the way back.

Damn, that was good. I almost convinced myself I really was kidnapped. I suppose it's possible it's another real kidnapping from my TV days and I just repressed it or something, but I don't think so.

No matter what your reason, though, or how excellent and even poignant the story you make up is, fake kidnappings aren't worth the time. I should do a public service announcement like that. If you want money, hell, there's tons of easier ways to do it. Dealing drugs in minority neighborhoods is one way to make a fortune without ever drawing the attention of cops, but you have to be careful, because if you're a 20-year-old white girl selling heroin you might not be able to defend your turf well against local drug kingpins. But then again, maybe they'll appreciate your spunk. Make you a mascot for their drug trade or something.

And if you want attention, trust me, join a cult. It's like a legitimate kidnapping, drives the folks batshit and they give you a place to sleep and robes to wear. It's like a little vacation at a mind-control resort. Parents will even pay to have people kidnap you back, it's crazy cool. That's how we got my brother Poot back the first couple of cults he joined. Dad didn't pay the kidnapper, but he cooked some great steaks and we had a fun barbecue. The kidnapper was Freddy Mercury, but don't even get me started on that. I'm just trying to let all the kids know, if you're hard up for money or attention, sleeping in the woods and causing a national media frenzy is not always the answer. Sometimes. But not always.

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