Write an irreverent story in which Megan Boone is kidnapped. Irreverent in the sense that there is no effort to produce empathy or emotion, not in the comedic sense.Have her get tied to a chair with zip ties, and cleave gagged with a white cloth. Describe

Megan Boone sat in the dimly lit room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like an incessant fly. Her latest job had been tedious, the sort of thing that made you question your life choices. She laughed to herself, not realizing it would be the last moment of carefree lightheartedness before chaos ensued. The door burst open, and before she could register the shadows looming in the doorway, she was seized, a rough hand clamping over her mouth. She struggled, but it was too late; her world turned into a whirlwind of disorientation. Next, she found herself tied to a chair with zip ties that bit into her skin uncomfortably, and worst of all, a white cloth gagging her—pulled tight and painfully contoured around her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock at the absurdity of it all as the cold realization set in: she had been kidnapped. Emotions? Not today. Megan couldn’t even muster the strength to panic; instead, anger flared up in her chest. The uncertainty, the indignity. She wriggled in her bonds, testing the strength of the zip ties, her brow furrowing as she made a futile attempt to dislodge the gag. The cloth pushed her lips up into a ridiculous pout, utterly stifling her protests, making her words a series of muffled garbles—something between a quack and a wheeze. “Wuzzat?” one of the masked figures laughed, tipping their head in mock confusion. “Can’t hear a word you’re saying! Speak up!” Her eyes narrowed into daggers as she glared at him, but he seemed to revel in her predicament, taking great pleasure in every helpless contortion of her face. Megan's cheeks bulged against the gag, the fabric pressed tightly around her warped mouth; it gave her a comical, fish-like appearance that was not lost on her captors. “I think she needs a bit more training on how to behave,” another one chimed in, grinning widely. They compared her to one of those inflatable clowns that you could knock down but would always bounce back. They didn’t need to carry her out of the room; they preferred the thrill of lifting the chair instead. Each time they did, she teetered precariously, the whole chair wobbling as they laughed at how easily they could maneuver her like an object. Megan rolled her eyes, the most defiant gesture she could muster, showcasing her disdain for the whole ridiculous situation despite the sheer ridiculousness of her own position. “You look comfy,” one of them jeered as they set the chair down abruptly, jolting Megan. A frown danced across her lips, entangled in her inability to express anything meaningful. She squirmed in frustration, letting out a series of muffled sounds that seemed to amuse them even more. “Hey, let’s get a picture for the ‘Most Uselessly Bonded!’” They pulled out a phone, framing her awkwardly in the dim light. “Say ‘help’!" They laughed, leaning into the joke as Megan gave another fierce glare in response, her displeasure crinkling her forehead and rooting her stubborn defiance in their minds. But all of it only seemed to fuel their mockery; the room echoed with their jeers, and Megan was rendered a mere figure of sport, an object for their entertainment. She had no noble struggle, no emotional outburst. Just a woman stuck in a chair, who could do nothing more than endure the absurdity of the moment, while they took turns lifting her like a human trophy. Why would anyone want to empathize, after all, when the worst had already happened—being made the punchline of someone else’s joke?