1. Write a story about a New Years Eve party that causes time to stop.
2. Use the following in your story: an undercover detective, the back of a converted van, and a box of Franzia (wine).

Time stand still by Rush

I turned and looked at my wife, my mouth hanging open. She fidgeted and then shook the Professor’s offered hand.
“I, I didn’t think it would work. Thank you, Professor.” She paused, “How did it work?”
Charles came forward and patted her on the back and the others came around her, clucking like hungry chickens. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I looked around the room again. A waiter was pouring water into a glass, the water stuck mid-pour. Another person was sneezing – and that was kind of gross. The gold and black crew had started to move around the tables and riffle through people’s wallets and purses.
“Hey now,” I said stepping away. Corrine’s hand caught my arm, and I stopped.
“Your calculations,” The professor said, “were just what I needed. Yours and Charles provided the idea for the nodes’ modulating frequency.” Charles’ smile was like a beam of light in the darkness.
“And so you freeze time, and for what? To steal wallets?” I demanded.
The entire party turned to look at me with that “you have two heads” look that I used to get in high school, which I now savor in the court room because I means that I’ve made a good point.
The group, except the professor who was not amused, looked around at the gold/black goons.
“You did this to steal?” Corrine asked the professor.
“No. Well, not entirely. Funding and all.”
Corrine gasped and stepped back.
“I’m kidding, my dear. And the troop is not stealing precisely. It’s apart of their incentive plan.”
“So when is time going to start again?” I asked, because if I was going to be stuck in a moment – this one wasn’t the one I wanted.
“Time hasn’t actually stopped. It is still going on, outside of this bubble. The goal is to move backward in time.”
“To do what?”
“Wainwright,” Charles said, “You ask too many questions. You were supposed to be frozen and unaware like the rest of the partyers.”
Corrine looked abashed. “Sorry, Charles,” she said, laying a calming hand on his arm – which made me wonder which direction the flirting had started from.
Ignoring Charles, I turned back to the professor. “To do what, Professor?”
“Scientific experiment, my good man. It is all an experiment.”
“And what happens if it goes wrong?”
Almstedt shrugged. “Then the world as we know it ends. So you see, it was vitally important that your wife’s calculations were correct. And now, with your kind delivery of the note earlier this evening, I have calculated that we can, indeed, spread the bubble and go backward in time.”
“The note?”
“Oh yes. You provided the key to all of this. So you see, Charles, Mr. Wainwright was needed.” He turned to me and smiled a toothy smile. “Was needed.”
There was a terrible sharp pain on the back of my skull and my world went black.

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