That's not a very good sentence, is it? Well, sorry. Live with it.
Anyway, I looked around, in a desperate way. It was no use, there was no escape: Even if I could make it across my kitchen, around the open fridge door, and to the window, it would be no good: My hands were tied, and the window closed. The back door was locked, and the key upstairs in my coat. The cat-flap, foolishly, was only big enough for a cat. For months I'd stop at the magic stall down the road and eye up the magic suppositories that let you shrink or grow at will, but I just couldn't see how any humour could arise from them. Now, of course, I was being haunted by the one product I hadn't impulse bought.
My captor sat at the table, mocking me silently. Sightless, but always watching, he fixed a milky-white stare on me. Daring me, daring me to escape. But it was no good, I knew I couldn't escape
I just hate it when mayonnaise goes bad...