"That's like the eighth one they

  took in there," the young feminist pointed to a wall with a sofa table and fern on it.  The Tour Guide went through a number of possible scenarios in history from Colonial spies to Watergate, but calling the bluff of (i)how feminist; militant(i) decided this girl was weak enough.  "Ghosts," he said out loud.  "You obviously see ghosts.  Feeling okay? Need some water?" 

  "Take the blindfold offa me." 

  "I don't hafta." 

  "Do you have any gum?" 

  "Ours got laced." 

  "With what?" 

  "Syanide." 

  A muffled jostling.  "You do this one." 

  "I'm telling you right now, no one is (i)doing(i) me.  Not here.  Not now.  Not ever.  Do you know who my father is?!" 

  "Why? Are you a feminist?" 

  "No, I'm waiting for the right man." 

  (i)hmmmmmmm(i) a deeper voice said.  "This one has potential.  Hold her here.  (i)I'll be back(i)." 

  More jostling. 

  "I just think they should of sent someone more legit." 

  "Are you guys stuck in here?" 

  "WHY WOULD WE DO THAT? THAT WOULD BE TOTALLY STUPID.  GOD."