I've been bored at work a lot lately. A LOT. So this leads to me having really bizarre trains of thought. Last night at work, I got to thinking of the first "scary story" I ever heard. Honestly, it could not have been the first scary story I ever heard. I always liked reading ghost stories and I always liked watching horror movies. So I'm sure this story that I used to tell every chance I got when I was around 6 was not the first scary story ever.
What baffles me is how much this story used to scare the other kids. It's dumb. It's really dumb. If anything, it's mildly amusing. Nothing scary about it. But judge for yourself. And pretend you're somewhere around six years old so you might have a shot of enjoying it.
One night, a boy's friends dare him to go into this old, creepy house that was rumored to be haunted. Everybody always said that anybody who went inside heard voices, foretelling death. The boy, of course, didn't believe this, so he went into the creepy old house in the middle of the night, all by himself. As he was walking around, he did, in fact, hear a voice. It was high-pitched and a bit ethereal; it was difficult to make out at first, but he focused and finally heard clear as a bell "If I roll over, I will die."
The boy was terrified and ran out of the house as fast as he could. He ran all the way home. He told his older brother what he had heard. His brother rolled his eyes and didn't believe him, but agreed to go into the house with him the next night.
The following night, the two brothers went into the old, creepy house. They started looking around, walking into rooms, looking in closets, when suddenly they heard two voices. Both voices were high-pitched and difficult to make out at first, but when they really focuses, the brothers could hear the two voices chanting in unison: "If we roll over, we will die." The older brother led the way as the boys ran out of the house as fast as their legs would carry them.
The older brother told his best friend, who rolled his eyes and didn't believe the brothers. The following night, all three boys went to the old, creepy house. This night, there were three voices, all chanting in unison "If we roll over, we will die." Again, the boys ran out of the house, terrified.
The best friend told his girlfriend about what happened, and the fourth night, the group returned to the old, creepy house. The chanting was apparent as soon as they entered this time, with a fourth voice having joined the mix. "If we roll over, we will die."
The boys were ready to run, but the girlfriend said they needed to explore. The group walked further into the house, following the sound of the four voices chanting "If we roll over, we will die." The girlfriend led the boys further and further into the house. Down the hall. Up the stairs. "If we roll over, we will die" was heard louder and louder. Down the upstairs hall. "IF WE ROLL OVER, WE WILL DIE." The girlfriend stopped out of a door, where the chanting was louder and faster. "IF WE ROLL OVER, WE WILL DIE! IF WE ROLL OVER, WE WILL DIE! IF WE ROLL OVER, WE WILL DIE!"
The girlfriend burst through the door. The group saw nothing, but there was a foul stench and the chanting was even louder! "IF WE ROLL OVER, WE WILL DIE! IF WE ROLL OVER, WE WILL DIE! IF WE ROLL, WE WILL DIE!"
The girlfriend walked further into the room and then the group saw what was happening. They had entered a old, dirty bathroom. The smell was human excrement. And in the toilet were four flies, resting on a piece of shit, half-sticking out of the water. "If we roll over, we will die."
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
And the Neighbor's Trying to Kill Us
I had such a weird dream last night that when I woke from it, I grabbed my phone and sent an extremely long text about to a good friend who I'll call Marty. And now I'll be sharing it with you folks.
In this dream, my boyfriend and I went over to his mother's house because we like her and apparently I decided I needed to do my laundry at her house for some reason. So we go into the house, I put a load of laundry in the washing machine, and we go outside to hang out with Boyfriend's mom (who I'll call Margaret) and Boyfriend's sister (who I'll call Chloe). I don't clearly remember what happened, but we somehow accidentally pissed off the next door neighbor. Like we were playing with the dog and hit the side of his house with a tennis ball or something. Neighbor gets furious and comes busting out of the house, screaming and threatening to kill us. And then we realize this neighbor, who we had never before seen, was Gary Busey. (I would like to make it clear right now that I do not know Gary Busey in any way and know basically nothing about him. This dream is not in any way meant to be an accurate depiction of his personality. For all I know, he's the nicest guy in the world.) I also notice that Dream Gary Busey somehow has my childhood best friend's dog as his pet.
DGB starts doing all sorts of insane stuff, trying to kill us. Like at one point we look over and see him inside his garage and notice he has a gun. Then holes appear in the side of his garage, because apparently instead of shooting us through the open window, he opted for shooting through the walls of his own garage. So we decided we should probably go inside. We all sneak along the side of Margaret and Chloe's garage. Boyfriend peaks around the corner of the garage, and notices DGB has a blow dart up to his mouth, waiting for us to step out into the open. We start throwing dog toys, balls of paper, a shoe, all sorts of things. DGB keeps jumping the gun when he sees movement, and blowing blow darts into the random objects we're throwing. When he runs out of blow darts, we run from behind the garage into the house.
DGB gets mad about being foiled, and goes away. I go to move my laundry from the washing machine to the dryer only to discover that, for some reason, Margaret doesn't have a dryer, just the washing machine. And apparently the spin cycle wasn't working well, because I pulled my clothes out of the washing machine soaking wet. Like, dripping. As I'm hanging all of my clothes up to dry, there's a loud, angry knock on the door. Chloe goes to answer it and finds DGB and an angry horde of people, waiting to kill the lot of us. Obviously, Chloe slams the door in his face. This gets DGB and his horde to retreat to his house. Boyfriend and I start watching DGB's house out a small window that is apparently a secret and formulate our plan to protect the family. While spying, we notice that DGB is watering his back yard...with gasoline. Okay, so we obviously decide to set the yard on fire. We have a conversation about what to start the fire with and decide to grab some junk mail. We pop outside to get the mail, and for some reason, there is a shopping cart full of old newspapers on the porch as well. We bring in the mail; bring in the shopping cart of newspapers. We pull one of the subscription slips out of a magazine (you know, the annoying little piece of cardstock inside every magazine that ends up falling out and laying on the floor of the store for weeks). Apparently we decided that was all we needed to set DGB's lawn and house on fire and sneak out the back door. We go to the far corner of DGB's back yard, stand on the "safe" side of the fence, light the corner of this little 3"x4" slip of paper, and toss it over the fence. Lawn goes up in flames, reaches the house, and the house explodes, killing DGB and his horde. My childhood best friend's dog comes playfully bounding out of the house and over to Margaret's, where she from thereon lived in my dream world.
As DGB's house is in flames, we hear another knock on the door. I answer the door this time, and it was a friend of my ex-boyfriend (who has been referred to as Nerfherder in previous entries). This girl, who I always found to be kind of a bitch, got up in my face and was like "I saw you guys!"
"You saw us do what?" I ask.
"I saw you take the newspapers in!"
"Yep. That's what people do."
"I saw you take the newspapers in, then Gary Busey's house burst into flames! Obviously you set his house on fire!"
"Because we took the newspapers inside?"
"Obviously!"
"Okay, Nut Bag. 'Bye."
And shut the door in her face.
The family and I decide to go somewhere. I don't know where we were going, but we pile into Margaret's SUV, which she is far too environmentally conscious to drive in real life. As we're backing out, I see actor James Morrison, who he was apparently Bill Buchanan in "24" which I have never seen, but I figure he'll be most recognized for that. I am familiar with his work on "Space: Above and Beyond" and I'm sorry, Mr. Morrison, no matter how good-looking you are and how fantastic of an actor you are, you will always be Col. McQueen to me. Anyway, James Morrison's standing on the sidewalk in front of the house on the other side of Margaret's, just kind of watching us. I say that this is weird and that we should probably get out of there quickly. So, Margaret puts the SUV in reverse and guns it, just in time to slam the back of the SUV into an FBI vehicle. She then throws the vehicle into drive and speeds off. No interesting chase ensues. We just go to dinner, and then suddenly I'm back home. My home. Without my laundry. And I was really more upset about the laundry than anything else.
In this dream, my boyfriend and I went over to his mother's house because we like her and apparently I decided I needed to do my laundry at her house for some reason. So we go into the house, I put a load of laundry in the washing machine, and we go outside to hang out with Boyfriend's mom (who I'll call Margaret) and Boyfriend's sister (who I'll call Chloe). I don't clearly remember what happened, but we somehow accidentally pissed off the next door neighbor. Like we were playing with the dog and hit the side of his house with a tennis ball or something. Neighbor gets furious and comes busting out of the house, screaming and threatening to kill us. And then we realize this neighbor, who we had never before seen, was Gary Busey. (I would like to make it clear right now that I do not know Gary Busey in any way and know basically nothing about him. This dream is not in any way meant to be an accurate depiction of his personality. For all I know, he's the nicest guy in the world.) I also notice that Dream Gary Busey somehow has my childhood best friend's dog as his pet.
DGB starts doing all sorts of insane stuff, trying to kill us. Like at one point we look over and see him inside his garage and notice he has a gun. Then holes appear in the side of his garage, because apparently instead of shooting us through the open window, he opted for shooting through the walls of his own garage. So we decided we should probably go inside. We all sneak along the side of Margaret and Chloe's garage. Boyfriend peaks around the corner of the garage, and notices DGB has a blow dart up to his mouth, waiting for us to step out into the open. We start throwing dog toys, balls of paper, a shoe, all sorts of things. DGB keeps jumping the gun when he sees movement, and blowing blow darts into the random objects we're throwing. When he runs out of blow darts, we run from behind the garage into the house.
DGB gets mad about being foiled, and goes away. I go to move my laundry from the washing machine to the dryer only to discover that, for some reason, Margaret doesn't have a dryer, just the washing machine. And apparently the spin cycle wasn't working well, because I pulled my clothes out of the washing machine soaking wet. Like, dripping. As I'm hanging all of my clothes up to dry, there's a loud, angry knock on the door. Chloe goes to answer it and finds DGB and an angry horde of people, waiting to kill the lot of us. Obviously, Chloe slams the door in his face. This gets DGB and his horde to retreat to his house. Boyfriend and I start watching DGB's house out a small window that is apparently a secret and formulate our plan to protect the family. While spying, we notice that DGB is watering his back yard...with gasoline. Okay, so we obviously decide to set the yard on fire. We have a conversation about what to start the fire with and decide to grab some junk mail. We pop outside to get the mail, and for some reason, there is a shopping cart full of old newspapers on the porch as well. We bring in the mail; bring in the shopping cart of newspapers. We pull one of the subscription slips out of a magazine (you know, the annoying little piece of cardstock inside every magazine that ends up falling out and laying on the floor of the store for weeks). Apparently we decided that was all we needed to set DGB's lawn and house on fire and sneak out the back door. We go to the far corner of DGB's back yard, stand on the "safe" side of the fence, light the corner of this little 3"x4" slip of paper, and toss it over the fence. Lawn goes up in flames, reaches the house, and the house explodes, killing DGB and his horde. My childhood best friend's dog comes playfully bounding out of the house and over to Margaret's, where she from thereon lived in my dream world.
As DGB's house is in flames, we hear another knock on the door. I answer the door this time, and it was a friend of my ex-boyfriend (who has been referred to as Nerfherder in previous entries). This girl, who I always found to be kind of a bitch, got up in my face and was like "I saw you guys!"
"You saw us do what?" I ask.
"I saw you take the newspapers in!"
"Yep. That's what people do."
"I saw you take the newspapers in, then Gary Busey's house burst into flames! Obviously you set his house on fire!"
"Because we took the newspapers inside?"
"Obviously!"
"Okay, Nut Bag. 'Bye."
And shut the door in her face.
The family and I decide to go somewhere. I don't know where we were going, but we pile into Margaret's SUV, which she is far too environmentally conscious to drive in real life. As we're backing out, I see actor James Morrison, who he was apparently Bill Buchanan in "24" which I have never seen, but I figure he'll be most recognized for that. I am familiar with his work on "Space: Above and Beyond" and I'm sorry, Mr. Morrison, no matter how good-looking you are and how fantastic of an actor you are, you will always be Col. McQueen to me. Anyway, James Morrison's standing on the sidewalk in front of the house on the other side of Margaret's, just kind of watching us. I say that this is weird and that we should probably get out of there quickly. So, Margaret puts the SUV in reverse and guns it, just in time to slam the back of the SUV into an FBI vehicle. She then throws the vehicle into drive and speeds off. No interesting chase ensues. We just go to dinner, and then suddenly I'm back home. My home. Without my laundry. And I was really more upset about the laundry than anything else.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Good Night, Friend
I received word today that an old friend passed away. Since I didn't get to say good-bye, and obviously the deceased have access to blogs, I thought I'd do it here. I'll call him Brad.
Brad and I were not close, but I cared about him. I met him through my ex, who in the past has been called Nerfherder. I didn't really like many of Nerfherder's friends. I mean, I tried. I certainly never told them I didn't like them. I did stuff with them. But after Nerfherder and I split, I had no desire to remain in contact with most of them. This was not the case with Brad. I used to joke that I wanted to take him with me and told Nerfherder I'd take him to court to battle for custody of Brad. That was mostly joking, but I really was sad that he and I didn't keep in touch afterwards. I instantly liked Brad. He was fun. And he really loved dogs, so that's always a plus in my world. And I could keep going, and tell stories about him, but since he just died in a really, infuriatingly stupid way, I don't want to give too much away about who he is, for his family's sake. So here's some things I want to say to Brad.
I don't pretend to know what happens when we die. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Heaven. But tonight, Brad, I hope they're both real. I want that for you so much. I don't know if souls are real. I don't know what happens to our life energy once our physical bodies have failed. But I hope it's good. I hope you're safe. I hope you're comfortable. I hope you're happy and at peace.
I'm so sorry your life ended the way it did. Brad, I hope you weren't alone and I hope you weren't scared when you left. You were such a good person in so many ways, and I'm sorry life was so hard in so many ways for you. You deserved better. And I'm sorry you didn't feel like you had other options for how to deal with how hard life was. I'm sorry for every day that you felt alone.
I refuse to remember you for how you died. I'll remember you every time I see a profoundly stupid tattoo or somebody wearing their baseball hat sideways. I remember the dog you saved and the way you didn't think twice before reporting that man for animal abuse. I'll remember you at epic bonfires, especially if somebody's blasting ska punk from the car.
Brad, I hope you know that you will be missed. Good night, Friend.
Brad and I were not close, but I cared about him. I met him through my ex, who in the past has been called Nerfherder. I didn't really like many of Nerfherder's friends. I mean, I tried. I certainly never told them I didn't like them. I did stuff with them. But after Nerfherder and I split, I had no desire to remain in contact with most of them. This was not the case with Brad. I used to joke that I wanted to take him with me and told Nerfherder I'd take him to court to battle for custody of Brad. That was mostly joking, but I really was sad that he and I didn't keep in touch afterwards. I instantly liked Brad. He was fun. And he really loved dogs, so that's always a plus in my world. And I could keep going, and tell stories about him, but since he just died in a really, infuriatingly stupid way, I don't want to give too much away about who he is, for his family's sake. So here's some things I want to say to Brad.
I don't pretend to know what happens when we die. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Heaven. But tonight, Brad, I hope they're both real. I want that for you so much. I don't know if souls are real. I don't know what happens to our life energy once our physical bodies have failed. But I hope it's good. I hope you're safe. I hope you're comfortable. I hope you're happy and at peace.
I'm so sorry your life ended the way it did. Brad, I hope you weren't alone and I hope you weren't scared when you left. You were such a good person in so many ways, and I'm sorry life was so hard in so many ways for you. You deserved better. And I'm sorry you didn't feel like you had other options for how to deal with how hard life was. I'm sorry for every day that you felt alone.
I refuse to remember you for how you died. I'll remember you every time I see a profoundly stupid tattoo or somebody wearing their baseball hat sideways. I remember the dog you saved and the way you didn't think twice before reporting that man for animal abuse. I'll remember you at epic bonfires, especially if somebody's blasting ska punk from the car.
Brad, I hope you know that you will be missed. Good night, Friend.
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