I was roughly shoved into a chair, and I felt my handcuffs, one side anyway, taken off. The relief on my left wrist was excruciating joy itself. But it was short lived. My right arm, still with the handcuffs, was yanked around and the other half of the handcuffs apparently locked to the chair.

Before I could even try to do anything, my other arm was done the same way. And then my ankles.

I was locked in to the chair I sat, still with the bag over my head.

I started to plead, "I didn't mean...!"

"YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!" The man's voice was obviously irritated, perhaps angry, and definitely gave the tone of authority. "You sit there and you stew. You make one more peep and there'll be an 'enforced timeout' from your mouth, got it?" A door slammed shut. It sounded heavy.

And then.. silence. The room was utterly quiet... and I still had the fabric bag covering me, not allowing any light through at all. Utter blackness. And my ears were ringing. Besides that, I started to hear my own heart beating, and it sounded like a jackhammer.

I could swear I felt thousands of eyes, gazing upon me, judging me for what I'd done. By mistake. But nobody seemed to want to listen to me plead my case.

The door opened, and footsteps made their way to me. I felt them fiddling with something beside my head... some sort of plates? One on top too... So confusing.. but I didn't want to protest, lest they put me in that 'timeout.'

The bag was suddenly ripped off my head, and bright lights were upon me. My eyes watered as I tried to look away, but the lights were everywhere I could look, and the plates... now I get why they're there. I couldn't turn my head away.

There was a gruff, haggard looking man in front of me. His shadowed face showed signs of being awake for a few days. Stubbly beard, bloodshot eyes, hair just a tad less kempt than his demeanor would suggest...

But then I'm sure we all have had that problem these past few days.

He stared at me, for what felt like an eternity. I stared back, if for no other reason than to NOT look into those damn lights.

"Ok, how did you do it?"

"I didn't mean to..."

He interrupted, "I really don't care WHAT you meant to do or not do at this point. Nobody in the world does. Except maybe those damn..."

He straightened up, and strode off to the side..

God, those lights!...

Even with my eyes closed, they seemed to burn right through to my retinas. It hurt. And I was getting overheated. I felt nothing more than the desire to give them what they want, for I wasn't anybody strong, and get out of there.

"Listen, mister,"

He put his face in mine, but growled a menacing whisper, "DO NOT talk unless I want an answer."

More staring. At least he was blocking the lights. His breath smelled like day old steak and cheese. I was this close to puking from it.

He pulled back. Told me, "Ok. From the beginning. Tell me the story. Don't leave anything out Go."

I took in a breath, and then started, "I went to get the mail. That's it. The usual stuff was in it... bills, ads... but this one letter, a handwritten envelope, was in the mix. I found it strange. No return, fancy writing. Caught my eye, so of course I was gonna open that and see what's in it."

I swallowed, for I was parched in those hot lights. Then I continued, "I went back to the house, and opened that one up first. In it was a weird kind of card. Not paper, not metal.. I can't describe it. Whatever it was, it had written on it 'Say their name, and they shall appear.' And soon after, all hell broke loose!"

Another man suddenly showed up in my view. He too was grizzled, tired looking. And older, with flowing, business-cut white hair. Sorta looked like President Reagan's would if he hadn't been dying it. His voice sounded... wizardly? Strange...

"What did you say? Did you have any feelings or thoughts about that card? Try to remember exactly..."

I thought back, trying to remember... "Um... I can tell you that I rolled my eyes at the thought of that kind of hocus pocus..." At those words, the old winced as if he'd been punched in the gut. Interesting. I kept going, "And I think I said... Um... 'Oh, God, another one of these chain mail letters?' Something like that. I remember the chain letter thing, but..."

They had both turned and stepped away by then, so I just stopped... I could barely see them through those harsh lights. The room started to smell of sweat and overheated clothing. I wanted out. My head was in a box, cooking, and I just wanted OUT....

"Guys, please I'm baking in this thing... seriously, can I get some water at least...?"

The old man waved his hand, and the lights went out, except for the normal ceiling ones. The plates disappeared instantly.. This did not phase me, given the recent events of the past few days.

The old man approached me... "We are deeply sorry. We thought you were a dark warlock, hell bent on destroying the world... or at least the societies on it."

My tone was incredulous as I exclaimed, "Me? Hell no, I'm not a warlock! I mean, obviously with all the crap going on, I could see that magic is a thing, but still! You guys coulda just asked!"

"Indeed," said the old man, "And a warlock would have hidden himself. Hence the need to take... precautions."

The other man, whom I supposed now was a police detective or something, said, "Listen, we got the world falling apart, and Henry here," he waved at the old man, "came in and offered to help us find the culprit. When he 'found' you, we had to just take you in and make sure you weren't going to do something else. So we're sorry about the roughness, but you understand, right?"

I stared angrily at him... but nodded. Then pulled on my cuffs. "How about these?"

"Oh, terribly sorry," said Henry (the Wizard?) and with a flick of his hand, the cuffs came off. And then there was a glass of water on the desk. "Please indulge, it will refill as many times as you'd like."

I took a sip... it was the most delicious water I've ever had. Cold too. I drank quite a bit.

Then Henry asked, "Daniel... you know what's happened here, now, right?"

I looked at him with confusion in my face. "Um... no. I was taken out of my house where I'd been hunkering down, hoping I'd survive, roughly brought here, and questioned. I might be filing a suit depending on if we make it to next week. And I'm tired, hot, hungry, and am worried about getting back home from here."

My look turned to askance. "So you tell me. What's happened here?"

"You spoke the name. And so it happened." Henry sighed... 'God' is here. And He's not happy, apparently, with the way things are and is going to change it."

"You have GOT to be kidding me," I said in irritation. "You yanked me out of my house and treated me like this..." I fumed a second or two... then said, "Ok, whatever. World's ending anyway, looks like. You got your story, now, what do I gotta do to go home?"

The two of them looked at each other, then to me... "Yeah, about that," started the Detective, "Your house is sort of... blown up. Sorry."

I stared at them... to the Detective... to Henry... the Detective...

"WHAT?!?!"

The Detective got the look of determined denial, and said "Look, we thought you'd done it on purpose. So we blew up the house to prevent any mystical crap from being used or a power source you had. HE said to do it," and he pointed to Henry, "so we did."

"Yes," Henry started, somewhat subdued, "the mystical power that the house showed to have in and around it is how we found you. We backtracked to the source, if you will. And when we found it, and got you out... I felt it was the best course of action."

He turned away, his shoulders slumped. "But of course, it did nothing. Obviously the card you invoked the powers of lingered strongly at the house. I had hoped that this would end the... well, spell, I suppose... and stop this madness."

"Damn pirates." The Detective said that with such anger that you could almost get sunburnt from the heat of his words, "going NUTS, pillaging and lootin'..." I bristled at this.

Henry continued, "Indeed. And the marinara sauce, the noodles... the meatballs, my goodness the meatballs..." He sighed, and somehow his shoulders slumped impossibly further down.

My stomach rumbled. Mmn... meatballs and marinara...

The Detective, though, turned to me with a suspicious look, then said, "Wait a second... If this is the result..."

His visage turned dark as the light bulb went off. My eyes tightened as the Detective said to the old man, "Henry. He did do it. This is his God. Otherwise it wouldn't have worked, right?"

The clicking of things coming together was almost audible as Henry came to the same conclusion, "Yes... Yes! It must be..."

Henry turned back to me, murder in his eyes. "You... lying little EVIL Pastafarian!! Your Flying Spaghetti Monster is going to doom us all!"

I stared back... and I smiled, visciously. A rumbling started to shake the room.

Dropping my pretense, I said with malice, "Yarr... An' I'll be seein' ya in Davy Jones's Locker, ya scurvy dogs! His Noodly Will be done! RAmen!!!"

The door burst as marinara sauce flooded the room... and the world.

Preemptive: Remember, 'Evil Pastafarian'. He obviously doesn't follow exactly in the CotFSM's beliefs. Call it an offshoot cult, maybe. And who's to say there aren't any evil ones, like Daniel here, hm?

Thanks for the prompt, hope it's to y'alls liking!