A Furry Story

Chapter 11 - Claustrophobic (?)

 For better imagery and sound-agery (does that word even exist?) listen to the song. Don't listen to it yet. You'll know when to, I promise. 

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“Maybe it’s because you’re not working out that often?” He said sarcastically. He kept his calm and laid back demeanour and my mouth formed a small ‘o’.

We were stuck. How the heck can he regain that kind of composure at this particular moment?

“See for yourself.” I stepped out of the way. “Let’s see if you’ve been working out.”

He flexed his arms playfully, probably trying to show off his toned muscles, and started going towards the door. I stepped aside and watched him with amusement.

He smugly gripped on the doorknob and nudged it back.

It didn’t budge. He tried again.

It didn’t even move an inch.

I didn’t know if I should give him a smug smile because he just got pawned, or should I go into a fetal position and cry a river of tears. As I was still thinking of what I would do, I remembered something.

“The door that leads outside,” I shouted at a persistent Damien, who was still pulling the door like his life depends on it. “Let’s go out through there!”

Damien suddenly remembered what I was talking about and he went berserk and sprinted his way towards the door leading outside – he grabbed my hand quickly in the process. I let out a small ‘oomphf’ as he started tugging my hand. And not to mention his soft hands were tightly intact with mine.

We were just a few steps until we experience freedom (ahem – the outside world) when suddenly, a strong gush of wind suddenly blew and the door close shut.

Whoa, I feel a sense of deja-vu. Damien then tried opening the door but it was locked from the inside as well. He kept on pulling it.

He started cussing profanities under his breath and kicked the door. But because of his force, he ended up hurting himself. “Well, mama llamas, this is pissing me off!”

Mama…llamas?

With his complex choice of words, again, I didn’t know if I should laugh my butt off or I should go into a fetal position. And the most awkward part of all is he was still holding my hand.

 I jerked my hand and he stopped cursing profanities like ‘mama llamas’ and looked down , only to see that we were in an uncomfortable position.

He blushed lightly and he released my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you saying sorry? I’m the one who got us into this mess?” I said, trying to calm him down. His face then changed into a more confident one.

“Oh yeah…” He then frowned. “I hate you.” He said in a serious tone, but clearly, he was just messing with me.

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?!” I then dived my hand inside my right pocket and grabbed my phone (the latest Apple smart phone, says my dad, but I really don’t care).

I started calling Magda through speed dial and I was waiting for her to answer when all of a sudden, a message appeared on my phone.

Due to lack of signal coverage, your call wasn’t pushed through.

A sigh escaped my lips and I dropped my phone back to my pocket. I looked at Damien and saw that he was doing the same thing, only to be welcomed by the same message my phone delivered me.