There was a glitch. It's fixed now.

Flagg1991 sits in an armchair, his legs crossed. He wears a leather jacket and Aviator sunglasses, his sandy blonde hair in a fifties style pompadour. An evil smile creeps across his face. "Hi, I'm Flagg1991."

A fat man with red, bleary eyes and messy gray hair bends down next to him - he wears a white and gray western shirt tucked into tan slacks. "And I'm Kenny Rogers."

"Can you believe it's almost been one whole year since me and this fat sack of shit here took the Louds hostage?"

Kenny chuckles. "I can't. Feels like only yesterday."

"Indeed it does, Kenny," Flagg says. "To mark the occasion, we've taken the Louds hostage again. This time around, we have help." Flagg nods to his left - a man with messy black hair and heavy set eyes sits in a kitchen chair, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands fisted at his mouth. He wears a black T-shirt and a baseball cap with an extra long bill. He stares intently at Luan, his nostrils flaring. "This is Raganoxer. He's an "artist." For some reason, he hates Luan's guts, and he's just itching to get his hands on her." Flagg takes a pack of cigarettes from inside his coat, pulls one out with his lips, and lights it, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs. "If you were around last year, you might remember the rules. You call in and tell us what to do. Simple as that." He gets up and walks over to the couch, where the Louds are tied up, their hands bound behind their backs and their mouths gagged. Clamping the filter between his lips, he removes a switchblade from his pocket and opens it. "If you're new to party...well...you're in for a hell of a treat."

He presses the blade against the side of Lola's face; her eyes widen, her pleading muffled by the gag. "I like you, Lola, I really do," Flagg says, then furrows his brows. "I don't know why. You're a snooty little bitch and you tattle more than Henry Hill." Sneering, he jerks his wrist, and a red slash appears on her cheek. "There's something about you, though…" Flagg scrunches his lips to the side, then shrugs. "Whatever."

Next he moves onto Lynn, who watches him through dangerously narrowed eyes. He beams and pats her on the top of the head. "I like you too. Again, I dunno why; sports is for fags and people who turn every little thing into a competition get on my last fucking nerve. Even so...you're alright." He reaches around, grabs her ponytail, and yanks, lifting her off her butt; tears spring to her eyes and Flagg jams his finger into her forehead. "Give me one fucking problem and I'll blow your teeth out the back of your head, though. Understand?"

She moans and he shoves her back, continuing onto Lincoln, who cringes. "Hiya, Linc," Flagg says happily. He musses the boy's hair and squats down. "I'm gonna make your life a living hell, and I might even take some of your loved ones away." He plucks the cigarette from his mouth, leans in, and aims the smoldering cherry at the terrified boy's cheek. He tosses his head back and forth, and Flagg laughs evilly. "Stay still, ya little bastard, here comes the airplane." He presses it against Lincoln's skin, and the boy howls in pain. Flagg giggles like a demonic schoolgirl and gets to his feet; a blackened welt mars Lincoln's cheek.

Dropping the cigarette to the floor, he stomps it and moves onto Rita. "Excuse me, girl," he leers, "ya got somethin' on ya tits."

He glances over his shoulder at Kenny. Coughing, Kenny speaks in a high falsetto and pokes one finger cutely against his stubble covered jowl. "What's that, Flagg?"

Flagg turns back to Rita and lifts his sunglasses. "My eyes."

Laughing, he brings his hand up and then down in a deadly arch, the back striking Rita's face with a meaty thwack.

Finally, Flagg lands on Lynn Sr. "The man of the house," Flagg says. "Let me ask you something, pops. Have you ever molested one of your daughters?"

Lynn's eyes widen in shock and he vehemently shakes his head. Flagg crosses his arms strokes his chin in thought. "You said yes?"

NO!

Flashing, Flagg grabs the front of Lynn's sweater and pulls him off the couch; their faces are nearly touching, and Lynn looks terrified. "You're a goddamn liar. You're a child molesting pervert and I hope one of the callers asks me to cut your dick off."

He pushes Lynn down and goes back over to the chair. Raganoxer's eyes bore into Luan. "Rag, are you really gonna sit there until someone tells you to kill Luan?"

"Yes." Rag says.

Flagg rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Call up now to get the ball rolling. We won't be here very long - it's a limited thing - so get your request in now at 1-800-TORTURE. Leave a suggestion in the reviews and let's make some magic."