The serving wench arrived with a platter of food. A heaping plate was placed in front of him. Before he had time to contemplate the various portions and colors, a crisp piece of bacon was crunching between his teeth. Oh, glorious bacon! Thank the Gods for… Before he could finish the thought, a large spoon with something white and rotten smelling, approached his mouth. The foul odor overwhelmed him, as the acrid horrible taste fell on his tongue. Urg… ick, yuck, aaaaahh, blech!! His head fell forward and he watched as the dollop of offending waste fell from his tongue onto the plate.
“Victorie eeeeh!” Joey yelped, “Gross. Is the yogurt bad?”
Yes! Yes, very, very bad, Blah, pleck! He hated that he couldn’t wipe off his tongue or take a large drink of the dark liquid before him.
“No.” The voice sounded confused. “It’s fine yogurt, not great, but ok.”
“Uh…so why’d ya spit it on the plate? Gross by the way!”
“I don’t know. I just had to get it out of my mouth, seemed important at the time.”
“Maybe you did hit your head yesterday.”
“Maybe, but you said the punch didn’t make impact. So, how did I hit my head?”
“Dunno. But, all the sudden, you’re scared of elevators and you’re spitting out your food. Plus, you said you were missing time.”
“Yeah, so the last thing I remember was Steve punching me in the face.”
“But he didn’t. Your head whipped around, like always, with that crazy blonde hair hiding how fake it truly was. And the crowd went nuts.”
“Well that’s not what I remember. I felt that punch slam into my jaw and when my head came up, I was looking at some crazed, redheaded, Celt looking, medieval nutbag coming at me.
“What?” Joey leaned forward and Vic was held rapt in fascination by her words. She had just described Gregory Hail perfectly, what parts he could understand anyway. He had no idea what a bag of nuts had to do with any of it.
“Yeah and the I was pushed forward and shock of shocks, I proceeded to beat the crap out of him and the man that had been holding me, with my HUGE man hands!”
“Man hands?”
“Ya! I was a guy! A big, big, guy. I could kinda see my arms and well, I think I was hot.”
Hot? The voice coming from his mouth was describing his fight with the Hail brothers. They had gotten their licks in, but he had proudly won the match. Although, not for his betterment. After seeing the condition of her brothers, Mary had dismissed his proposal and called him a tyrant. As he was thinking of the events of his unfortunate experience, the voice was telling it…oddly, but with a fair amount of accuracy.
“…And the cow called me a bunch of names I mostly didn’t understand, and told me to get off her lands. What a Beotch!”
Joey stared openmouthed as the voice continued. “So, I climb on this horse and my jaw is freakin’ throbbing and I ride for what feels like a whole day. The entire time, I’m like screaming in my head. What the fuck! And where am I? But, I can’t get any control. Weird right?”
Weird. The meaning of this word is beginning to become clear.
Joey closed her mouth and nodded. “So Steve hit you and you were in another world, as a hot guy, riding a horse, after a failed marriage proposal, to an ugly chic?”
Mary is not ugly!
“Yep. I know.” His head was nodding. “Freakin’ nutbag!”
What is a nut bag? Infuriating!

The panel slid open and a small but muscled female stood, looking decidedly impatient. Her short red hair was chopped in various strange angles, as if someone had punished her by removing its length. A hoop of metal hung above one eye, secured through the skin of her brow. Dark red lips opened in a sneer and Vic found himself recoil from the tiny angry wench.
“Vic!” she said, “It’s almost over. Where have you been?” She stopped speaking and reached out to grasp his arm, her grip was vice-like. “What’s wrong?” Her voice changed instantly from anger to concern. He realized this woman must be a servant of some kind, although the way she had initially spoken seemed to deny that. He listened as she spoke, trying to grasp what his Cage was saying. Her breath came quick and for the first time he realized that the body was completely in sink with his mind. Hallelujah!
“I don’t know,” she gasped. “I was in the elevator, feeling great. Then out of nowhere I had a panic attack. I was really scared.” Her voice was shaky, yet he still found the silky timbre soothing. “I’m feeling okay now. So you can let me go.” She shook her arm for effect and the vice like grip disappeared. “God, Joey. Been eatin’ your Wheaties? Shit!” Vic felt his fingers slide over the opposite bicep, rubbing the irritated skin.
Lord, women are so weak, he mused, amazed that such a small amount of pressure caused an unusual amount of discomfort.
“Sorry,” Joey said. She turned and linked arms, pulling him forward “Let’s eat! And, while we are shoving unholy amounts of calories down our gullets, you can tell me all about your episode.” She laughed as Vic’s arm dislodged from hers and his hand smacked hard onto her tight behind. What the hell? “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”
Stan? Wasn’t the name Joey?
“Where ya wanna sit?”
“Booth,” the Cage stated, while bouncing in front of her companion.
“Cool” the redhead, whose name he was now unsure of, said.
Cool?
A wench dressed in a somewhat more appropriate attire than the two he was forced to be with arrived and asked for the order. As he listened, Vic found himself fascinated by the way the language was simplified. He had discerned that ‘ya’ was you, and ‘coffee, coke’ was beverage. ‘Waitress’ was serving wench and ‘Stan’ was not the name of his companion. He had been correct initially. It was Joey, still an odd name for a female. He was still working with the notion that she was being punished for some ill deed. Although, what action could lead a king to order a ring placed through an eyebrow? He tried to shake his head to no avail. Maybe this woman’s name was Josephine and Joey was the shorting of it. Yes that made the most sense. GA! He was musing over such trivial matters, when the real issue was how to escape this infernal prison.