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Trapped in an Elevator
The stainless steel elevator doors opened and a man with spiked, gray hair stepped inside. He stood against the back of the elevator with his hands held casually behind his back. Shortly after him, a bubbly, square man entered the elevator.
“Goooooodmorning, sir!” he said, “I’m Spongebob! What’s your name?”
“Ceasar, Ceasar Milan,” he said in a thick Hispanic accent.
Besides the soft hum coming from Spongebob, the elevator was relatively silent…until the doors opened, that is. Without warning, the elevator filled with blinding camera flashes and a sea of people shouting, “Mr. Jackson! Mr. Jackson!”
After what seemed like entirely too long, the elevator doors closed, blocking out the commotion.
“Hello, I’m Michael,” said the man in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “I’m off to perform at a concert tonight to rock the night away, but I’d like to warm my voice up a bit. You guys ready?”
“I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready!” said Spongebob as he jumped up and down in anticipation.
“Hey pretty baby with the high heels on, ya give meh fevah like I’ve neva, eva known!” sang Michael.
“I can’t listen to this anymore,” mumbled Ceasar.
Michael turned sharply to look at Ceasar. “Just beat it then!”
Without a word, Ceasar looked away and pressed the button to open the doors of the elevator. He waited a few seconds, but nothing happened, so he tried it again. Still, nothing. He slowly turned around to tell the others he couldn’t open the doors, but it was impossible to get their attention. Michael was belting his songs, and Spongebob was running around in circles.
“You hear the door slam, and realize there’s no where left to run…”
“Hey!” Ceasar said, trying to get them to notice him, “Hey! Be quiet! Ch!”
“What is it?” asked Spongebob innocently.
“Yeah what is it? Why won’t you just leave already?”
“I would but the doors are stuck!”
“Oh no…this is bad,” said Michael.
“This means I can’t make any Krabby Patties! I’m not going to be employee of the month! What are we going to dooo?!” Spongebob threw his hands in the air and began running around the elevator screaming.
“Well I guess I have more time to practice then! Billie Jean…”
“Ch! Ch!” Ceasar said while snapping his fingers in an attempt to get them to be quiet. Eventually, he gave up and sat in the corner of the elevator. “This is why I don’t work with people,” he said to himself.