One time I was abducted by Scientologists.
I was nineteen and I was alone on a small stretch of sidewalk somewhere in the vast expanse of the spiritual wasteland known as Orange County, California. A car pulled up beside me. Inside was a man and a woman. They seemed okay and they asked me if I wanted to see a movie. That Thanksgiving I had walked to the nearby 7-11 and purchased nachos. They were just a cheep bag of circular chips that you opened and pumped disgusting cheese and chilly onto yourself. I took those nachos home and I ate them. For Thanksgiving. Alone. Dying inside with each bite. So yeah, I got in the car. They could have been serial killers, but if they were going to torture me, at least I'd feel alive. The worst that could happen, I figured, is that I'd actually have to watch a movie. Turns out they weren't serial killers. They were Scientologists.
