Too Soon to Tilt

     New Year’s Eve–another boring party with inane gossip, too-loud music and guests robotically rattling off resolutions they knew they had no intention of keeping. Another year gone by with Wilson looking forward to almost nothing–except:

      The software salesman’s annual turning-of-the-calendar-page ritual did have one very bright spot–across the room stood the stunningly beautiful and intelligent blonde lady as she had for the past two years. Aside from her tantalizing appearance and heavily sexual aura, she actually engaged several of the party guests in conversation that rated above the junior high school babble expected of such beauties.     

      Despite their annual game of locking eyes across the room, she never seemed interested in approaching Wilson.  He, of course, could have made the first move, but he found her appearance extremely intimidating.

     Then, shortly after the ball dropped on the third year’s festivities, three ominous-looking men dressed in black apparel from head to toe began following the salesman home. The men never closed to more than a block of him, but they still seemed very interested in his every movement. For a good half hour after he entered his apartment they stood on the sidewalk in front of his building staring up at his living room window.

      He could not, of course, directly link the fact that the men in black seemed to pop up out of nowhere and tail him to the apparition of the blonde bombshell, but the timing seemed much more than a coincidence.

      Finally, Wilson couldn’t take the suspense any longer. Although known by his colleagues as an extremely shy introvert, he decided to swallow his fears and confront the trio.

     Suddenly, when he got within a couple of feet of the men, one of them raised what looked like a .357 magnum and aimed it in his direction.  Luckily, he took shelter behind a parked car and the “bullet” only grazed his head.

     “Wait, who are you and why are you shooting at me?” he shouted.

     “The annual party you have attended is open only to a very exclusive guest list,” the thug leading the group yelled back. “Those who approach our female colleague must either be a member of her team or one of our enemies. We cannot tell you more until you come with us. 

        “Should you decide to turn down our kind invitation and appear at our annual meeting next year, your partying days will end–permanently. It will do you no good consulting any authorities because we have spies at every level and if you reveal any of this we will terminate you even sooner.”

     While he wondered why his humble life suddenly warranted such hostile attention, it still put his sense of self-preservation on high alert.

      Yet, his sense of curiosity temporarily overcame his temptation to turn away and run for his life as he moved closer to the men. At least they would fill in the details of their mysterious mission and, perhaps, reunite him with their stunningly beautiful and intelligent leader.

     Before he had time to weigh all his options further, the trio grabbed him, tied him up, blindfolded him and threw him into the back of a windowless van, which then sped away down the street and onto what sounded like a major multi-lane highway.

     After driving around for about an hour, the van stopped in front of a rundown motel and his captors dragged him up to the second floor before throwing him onto the bed and removing his blindfold and the ropes that bound him.

     Standing in front of him in a skin-tight leather outfit was the blonde bombshell.

     “I have done nothing wrong or illegal,” Wilson shouted. “Why did you and your henchmen bring me here? What do you hope to accomplish by kidnapping an ordinary salesman and roughing him up like this?”

     “Enough of this insolence,” the blonde replied.  “I am Zelda, mistress of the silver global kingdom. Your so-called fulltime occupation is of no interest to us.  You have violated the confidentiality of our annual conferences and you must not tell others about us.”

      “I have nothing that you possibly could want,” Wilson replied, “unless you need software to upgrade your computer system or want to learn new techniques for hacking into the systems of a rival gang. In either of those cases, I can probably make you a very reasonable offer.”

      “You have absolutely nothing with which to bargain,” the blonde shouted. “We have all the chips on our side, and, if you do not follow our rules it will result in the endgame for you.”

       “Okay, you win. Have your men take me back out to their van and I will lead them to a place that will explain my presence at your parties.”

      The three mysterious men then roughly loaded their captive back into the van.  Following Wilson’s directions, they rode around for about three hours along many darkened local streets and back onto a major highway before entering the parking lot of one of the most gaudy looking buildings they had ever seen. The structure looked to them like an oversized pinball machine.

       Wilson used an app on his smartphone to open the door of the building by activating what looked like a supersized electronic game flipper.

      The three henchmen then found themselves confronted by four robotic creatures wielding huge paintball guns emerging from the side doors of the weird building. 

      “Don’t underestimate the firepower of their guns,” Wilson shouted. “They can wipe you all out with one squeeze of their triggers.”

       With that the robotic creatures led each of the henchmen into what looked like a convoluted section of an electronic game.  Then the salesman pushed a button on his smartphone and the robots forced the three men  along a path until they stood before a huge sign reading “Game Controller Champ–One Million Points.”

       Then the entire pinball machine lit up and Wilson and his captors and supporters found themselves standing on a huge, glitzy stage.

       From another side door a larger robotic creature led the blonde bombshell, now blindfolded and tied up, to the center of the stage.

      A man who looked like a 1960s gameshow host then appeared in the center of the stage.  He presented Wilson with a gold trophy and announced, “You have won the New Year’s Eve Paintball-Pinball Competition and the prize of $1 million.”

     He ordered one of his men to free Zelda and declared, “for three years your team has secretly plotted a plan to capture the crown by cheating at the game Wilson invented. This has earned you no more than also-ran status. You are lucky to escape with your lives.”

      The curtain then closed on the presentation as “Auld Lang Syne” blared from speakers on the sides of the stage.