I was seeing a meth dealer who also happened to have a thing for collecting mannequins and wedding gowns. While alone in the apartment one day there was a knocking on the door. Since I was a ‘bit’ tweaked, I naturally concluded that it was a cop. That one cop soon became several. Those cops soon became the FBI, and so on. You get the idea. I hastily discarded my clothes.

And then I spent close to twenty hours huddled naked under a wedding dress, holding a mannequin’s legs and trying to suppress my crying parc gonflable as much as possible, fearful that the dogs would tear me apart. I was, of course, terrified about the legal repercussions, but my real fear was what fate would befall me should anything happen to those wedding gowns.

Fortunately, however, my plan worked, and the FBI eventually left.

Congrats, James, and thanks for sharing.

Previously on Mission Mission: Female Mannequin Strangled with Twine