Mr. Monk is in the Trunk
Sharona and Natalie approached the dark house with some trepidation.
"He should have called by now," said Natalie.
"We ought to call the Captain - or better yet, Benji," said Sharona. "I don't like this."
"Why, my lady," said Professor Towers, stepping outside and brandishing a gun, "you are my most welcome guest."
With that, he pistol whipped the two woman.
When they came to, they were in the trunk of a car, along with Monk.
Monk was already hyperventilating.
"Carlotta must have called him," he babbled. "When he came back, he used a vase to knock me out."
"Adrian," complained Sharona. "You could have warned us."
"I was playing Brahm's Lullaby," said Monk.
"He's going to kill us," Natalie observed, or maybe Sharona. It was difficult to tell.
"Probably," Monk admitted. "But his plan's messed up. This seems like his Buick."
"How do you know?" asked Natalie.
"Newer cars have a escape lever in back," whined Monk.
"Wait, wait," said Sharona. "I always keep a spare cell, just for emergency's like this."
"The Professor must have taken mine," Natalie said.
"He'd better not have stolen mine. Where I keep it, he has no business" said Sharona.
Sharona shuffled for the phone.
"That's my eye," said Natalie.
A dim light shone as Sharona removed the phone from her breasts.
A sudden bump sent it spinning from her hands. Somewhere in a far corner of the trunk the dim light shone, the phone ringing uselessly.
"Get it, Adrian," said Sharona.
"I can't," said Monk weakly.
He was exhausted from his disease, being thrown around the trunk, confined in such a small area, and having the two women resting somewhere on top of him
He fainted.
"Mr. Monk," Natalie screamed.