Source: The Perfect Date [trailer]
Source: The Perfect Date [trailer]
We all tell stories to our young ones. Whether they’re true or not; to make a point or just for entertainment, stories are important because they can be helpful. Well, I came up with a story that soon spread to all my nephews and nieces. I titled it…
My nephew Julian had his toys all over the living room. He seldom picked them up on his own (if at all) so he was constantly being told to pick up his toys.
It’s not that there were toys out, but it was every toy he had that was out. To top it all off, he’s just sprawled out in the middle of the mess watching television (actually, the Spiderman DVD for the thousandth time).
One day, driving home from pre-school, he spots a little boy in the neighborhood running down the sidewalk. Now, it’s cold outside, damn near freezing, and my nephew notices that this little boy doesn’t have a coat on! Julian was beside himself! He couldn’t believe it! He just looked at me through the rear-view mirror pointing at this coatless little boy.
“He doesn’t have a coat on!” Julian exclaimed.
“I know. It’s cold outside,” I explained.
“Why doesn’t he have a coat on?” Julian asked sounding a bit concerned.
“Maybe his mom and dad couldn’t buy him one,” I added trying to tug at his heart-string.
Julian was quiet for a moment while he looked out the window. I was about to pull into the drive when asked me, “Do you think he has any toys?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I put the car in park and looked at him through the rear-view mirror. “Do you want to give him some of yours?”
I thought Julian would have said “yes”, since he sounded so concerned, but he shocked me by giving me a serious face and shaking his head “no”.
“No?” I asked him. “Why?”
“Because he’ll break them.”
I exited the car and got Julian out of his child seat. That’s when I came up with the story.
“That’s okay,” I said calmly, “people don’t need give the “little boy without a coat” any toys.”
Julian looked puzzled.
“Yeah, the “little boy without a coat” just goes around and takes other kids toys. Since his mom and dad won’t buy him any toys he has to take other kids toys.”
Julian slowly walked to the front door and listened to my story.
“So whenever you leave your toys out and if you’re not watching, the “little boy without a coat” comes and takes them.”
I started opening the front door and Julian looked up at me and asked, “Even in the house?”
“Even in the house.”
We entered the house and I could tell that Julian was still processing the story. He took off his coat, hat and gloves and walked into the living room. He saw the living room and how cluttered it was.
“Look at those toys the “little boy without a coat” could have taken, had he known they were here. Good thing the curtains were drawn,” I said to really get him thinking.
Actually, the curtain was drawn so the mailman couldn’t see that my living room was a wreck.
“Here… maybe if I open the curtains….” I started to say but was immediately interrupted by Julian screaming in terror.
“Noooo…. wait!” Julian yelled out.
“Well, I’m not sitting in here with the curtains drawn all day, you better pick up these toys,” I warned him.
He started to whimper and whine, but he slowly picked up his toys and put them away.
It may have taken him almost an hour, but he did it.
Now, the “little boy without a coat” has become my ‘GO-TO’ guy.
If you need to, you can borrow my “little boy without a coat” story.
I’d be honored.
Here’s a TOP LIST of my favorite female lead roles in MOVIES/FILMS. I made this list on a whim, so it’s NOT in any specific order, other than when the name of the movie/film came to me. I know I may have missed some good ones, so go ahead and leave a comment… thanks!
Does she have what it takes to make it as a lawyer? Well, first she has to complete Harvard Law School before anything. However, is she doing it for herself, or is she just trying to prove to her flaky ex-boyfriend that she’s more like a “Jackie” and less like a “Marilyn”. Wait a minute, she can be both!
fighting off one of the most horrific slashers of all time isn’t easy. The problem only gets worse when the bad guy just won’t stay the hell down! With the help of a doctor armed with a pistol our hero escapes certain death, however, her sex crazed friends didn’t come out as lucky.
Your average cheerleading squad runs into a serious problem. It seems that their cheers aren’t exactly what their cracked up to be – and by that, I mean ORIGINAL! Now, the new cheerleader captain has to come up with a new cheer, unfortunately a cinemagraphic conartist she hired has been teaching this same cheer to EVERYONE!
This is one of my favorite movies. I totally dig the idea that a squad of cheerleaders are going around robbing banks for what they believe is for a greater good. It’s funny because all our lives we’re told that with the right amount of determination, a strong will and careful planning you can accomplish anything – these guys just take it up to a notch.
The UNNAMED hero gets her revenge. She may not be a positive role model (to some) but you have to admit…revenge is best served cold! There’s no stopping this pissed-off bride when she’s using her martial-arts skills against the very team of assasins that turned against her.
Is she the worst or the best babysitter ever? You decide. Just don’t let the parents find out. She surely has placed herself and the kids in one hot mess into another. With gangsters, car thieves, and insane tow-truck drivers it’s a wonder nobody ends up in the hospital…. er, wait – oh yeah, someone does end up in the hospital.
A true story that will inspire you to stand up for yourself no matter what obstacles lay before you. Stick to your guns and dig for the truth and use every available resource you can find, even if it’s your kick-ass body.
Talk about “tough chics” this movie probably has one of the toughest as they come. Her determination and will is by far stronger than the normal man, but then again… she’s not a man – or normal for that matter. It’s a movie well worth seeing and will question every man’s manhood.
It’s amazing what the girl-next-door can actually do. When things get tough, she gets things done her way whether the authorities approve of it or not. In the end, someone has to pay for the deciet.
She’s against her government, but it’s hard to defeat a government when its fighting within itself. No matter the difficulty, our hero must face the fact that things are not what they seem… well, at least not this time around.
A western that reminds of the old “spaghetti” westerns back in the 60’s. Little girls never forget their daddy’s killer. As the years go by, the haterd goes stronger, but so does her handeling of a six-shooter. It’s an open invite to the most deadly quick-draw contest in the state, the perfect setting for a killing… but she’s not alone. The town is full of murderers.
It’s totally, TOTALLY intense about 75% of the time. Prepare yourself for a number of scenerios when Lola tries her best to help her boyfriend who is in dire need of some serious cash. Can Lola make things right? Only if she does everything absolutely perfect. And I do mean PERFECT! This very well could have been my favorite of all-time, but reading the subtitles and trying to watch the action could sometimes be difficult.
If you’re still not understanding what Hillary did wrong, let me break it down to you “BARNEY STYLE”. This is EVERYTHING you need to know in less than 350 words.
I feel she is ineligible to run for President of the United States. Being investigated by the FBI should make ANYONE ineligible to run for the presidency.
Simple. She lied.
She said that a “demonstration” was taking place and that it turned violent because of a YouTube video.
This is NOT true.
What is true…
Judicial Watch President Tom Fitton said that the Diplomatic Security Command Center (including Hillary Clinton) clearly knew that in real-time a full-fledged terrorist attack was taking place on September 11 at the U.S. compound in Benghazi, Libya.
Okay, now, here’s what went wrong:
Hillary Clinton and the Diplomatic Security Command Center made people think that they only needed to worry about demonstrations, when the truth was that the Americans in North Africa (Tunis, Tunisia) needed to know the truth. They needed to know that Benghazi was hit by an intense terrorist attack, that came on violently, with heavily armed al-Qaida-backed militia carrying AK-47s and RPGs.
THEY SHOULD HAVE SENT A MESSAGE LIKE THIS…
“Be Warned! There was a terrorist attack, and you should be very careful right now!”
BUT INSTEAD THEY WROTE THIS…
“On September 11, 2012, violent demonstrations took place at the U.S. Embassy in Cairo, Egypt and at the U.S. compound in Benghazi, Libya, resulting in damage in both locations and casualties in Benghazi. Media reports indicate that demonstrations may take place at the U.S. Embassy in Tunis on Wednesday, September 12, 2012.”
THOSE WEREN’T DEMONSTRATORS – THOSE WERE TERRORISTS!
The temporary US Embassy in Benghazi, Libya was also defensively inadequate. The US government knew this and yet did nothing. Instead of detaining those responsible until a thorough investigation had been concluded, they were assigned to other facilities.
Four years later, it’s still being covered up.
Being part of filming BEWARE OF THE KLOWNS was one of the MOST exciting things I’ve ever done. Thanks to Tim Wolak, Alexander Hale Gibson, Rosaleah Sunserra Gonzalez and Brandon Berk.
Here at HMU we are some sick individuals. Even our creator Travis Brown decided to send this teaser to one of our writers Stacey Beth who is terrified of Klowns. If anything it gave us the perfect reaction to know we had to key you guys in on this film. Browsing the redditsphere we came across this teaser for a film currently under production BEWARE OF THE KLOWNS. Yes with a K folks stay with us now. The film is directed by Tim Wolak we have the plot below picked from their Facebook page. All you need to know is there is a group of killer klowns that ain’t getting out a small car for your f**king entertainment. They want blood. Check out the trailer and we will be keeping an eye out for more news on BEWARE OF THE KLOWNS in the near future.
View original post 179 more words
Ah, the summer of 1989. A lot of good times & memories (of what I can remember anyway) were made in that year.
We were a little older, a lot crazier, unfortunately, none the wiser.
We made it through the summer of 1989, however, with nothing to show for it. All except for a fridge half-full of beer and a small canon.
That’s right. We got ourselves a canon,
but that’s a totally different story.
The fact that there was absolutely NO SUPERVISION is what made all this possible.
I thought I was living the dream. Probably the dream of every 18-year-old male across the country. Well, at least maybe among my fellow “Region Rats” anyway. I guess that’s why we pretty much hung out at my house all the time. The lack of supervision made it the perfect environment for all the “Shit Starting & Shenanigans” we got ourselves into.
It usually started with a garage/back alley BBQ, but things always got carried away and into the basement as the evening rolled in. By this time, most of us were already half-lit. There was always plenty of beer (free of charge). Of course, this was before the “major bust” of The Great Beer Heists of ’89.
In fact, the warm keg of Guinness spent a good portion of the summer of 1989 in my basement before it was finally moved to a new [undisclosed] location for further study & observation. A few of us would always take a crack at trying to get the beer out, but it always ended up in failure. If we only had that specific tap for that Guinness keg maybe a few us would think differently about Guinness beer.
Then again, maybe not.
Thanks to the “Boys of Wildwood” we finally did get into that keg of Guinness.
Let’s get to the point of the story.
We came up with a competition that if completed you were made a “48 Club” member. It was called the “48 Club” and to become a member you had to drink 48 beers within 48 hours.
Here are the rules:
We found out that a particular brand of alcohol (liquor?) would actually ignite – Everclear!
I’m not sure if Everclear was intended to be sipped straight from the bottle, but we did it anyway.
It was horrible.
So, to liven the party, we lit a shot glass full of Everclear on fire and drank it that way.
Now it doesn’t only taste like shit, but it’s dangerous too.
Not sure where the idea of throwing flaming shots down your throat came from, but after a few hits & misses , some of us became rather good at it. Almost expert even. May sound like a useless skill but I have to admit, it is rather interesting to witness. If you ever get a chance to witness a drunk throwing fire towards their face, take it.
Sometimes, things could go terribly wrong.
Like someone lighting their face on fire.
Or, things could go hysterically funny.
Like someone lighting their face on fire.
Note: On all Flaming Shots you are suppose to extinguish the flame before you drink it.
Nobody told us about that part.
By the fourth hour of the very first 48 Club Competition, there were only 6 or 7 serious (semiconscious) applicants still in the competition out of a basement full of juvenile delinquents.
You remember Cousin Mike?
He was with me during the “Jumping & Riding Trains” incident.
He was one of them.
The McDonald Brothers.
They were with me during one of the Great Beer Heists of ’89.
They were both hanging in there also.
So, there was Cousin Mike, the two McDonald Brothers, myself and a few others.
One of those still standing was Benjie Garrison.
Benjie Garrison is an awesome bowler and already a well-known competitor among his peers and other young professional bowlers. He is very, very good. I met Benjie in high school through a few of my friends. And like myself, he lived with just his father. I remember spending many days ditching school at his house when mine was “unavailable”. We dominated Super Mario Bros. on Nintendo.
My house, however, was the hub. It was a bit bigger, plus it had a basement that was equipped with a bar. The bar was nothing fancy but it served its purpose. Built in the 60’s by my grandfather, this bar has seen its fair share of shit starting & shenanigans…
…and today was no different.
Although the rules simply state that nobody may leave the vicinity of the competition, Benjie and the younger McDonald got hungry. Since there wasn’t any food in the house and nobody delivered this late, we decided to make an exception. There was a tiny 24-hour Mexican restaurant just a block away. The infamous LAS BRISAS Mexican Restaurant was a Region Rat hot-spot.
Being that Las Brisas was open 24-hours a day, it too, has also seen its fair share of shit starting & shenanigans. Serving not just the sober during the day, but also the drunks, addicts and idiots during the night. If you ever wanted to test your self defense skills, visit Las Brisas anytime after 1 am and wait. Even though the Hammond Police Department was exactly kiddie-corner from Las Brisas, some knuckleheads didn’t care. Something’s going to happen…
…and tonight was no different.
Benjie and the younger McDonald brother left the house together. It’s best to go in pairs. Besides, Cousin Mike was in no condition to go anywhere. He was worse off than the rest of us. And since this was my house and he was my cousin, I was the one to look after him.
So off they went.
When they walked into Las Brisas they could already tell that something was not right. There were three employees, one up front, one in the back and another sitting in a booth next to the register. All three of them had their eye on a couple (guy & girl) that were waiting for their order. They looked as if they were pissed off at one another.
The employee that was up front walked to the register and asked Benjie if they were ready to order. Just when Benjie was about to speak, a loud “Fuck you!” was shouted from the girl.
Benjie quickly turned and looked at the couple, “Wow. What was that?” Benjie jokingly snickered.
The guy looked up at Benjie for a moment and then went back silently speaking to the girl looking rather irritated
“What the fuck?” the younger McDonald said to Benjie.
“I don’t know. Whatever.” Benjie said back and then placed their order.
You were to pay right after you order at Las Brisas. This prevented ‘Dine & Dash’. When the employee gave Benjie his change she quickly went to finish up the couples order and gave it to them. The couple immediately left.
Not even a minute after the couple left, Benjie heard a ruckus right outside the restaurant’s front door. Benjie and the younger McDonald went to investigate and found the guy beating the shit out of the girl. Both of them went to grab the guy and pulled him off her.
Suddenly, Benjie felt a thud on the back of his head. When he turned around he saw the younger McDonald throwing the girl a pretty good distance away. When he did, a loud clank was heard. The girl dropped a tire iron in the process of being thrown. After the younger McDonald threw the girl down he jumped on the guy and started beating the shit out of him.
Yes. This happened.
The guy was totally unconscious, but the younger McDonald kept beating away. The girl stood up and decided not to intervene. I guess she knew that it didn’t matter she was a female. It wasn’t until Benjie, when he got his bearings, that stopped the younger McDonald from beating the guy any further. They both went back inside the restaurant. The girl just stood there and continued to scream at the both of them.
The Hammond Police showed up just when they sat down to eat their tacos. It looked as though the girl was trying to explain to the police why her boyfriend was laying unconscious in a Las Brisas parking lot. She was looking through the restaurants glass, pointing to the both of them telling the police who they should be arresting. But the police never came in the restaurant and asked any questions. It seems that they just hauled the couple away to jail.
End of that story.
Back at the house, none of us knew what was going on with Benjie and the younger McDonald. This was, of course, before the readily available cell phone.
This was also when we started doing “Flaming shots of Everclear”.
Turning up the heat!
Benjie and the younger McDonald finally made it back from Las Brisas.
“We got into a fight,” Benjie announced as soon as he walked down the basement stairs. “Man, we kicked the shit out of some guy and his girlfriend.”
The younger McDonald went ahead and tried to explain what happened, but with the tape deck blaring “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns’n Roses made it a little difficult.
Before any of us could ask Benjie any questions, he was already at the end of the bar with his taco take-out. He sat with his back to us and that’s when I noticed the blood stain down Benjie’s back.
“Dude, you’re bleeding!” I shouted.
The younger McDonald went to check out Benjie’s head.
“That chic busted your head open.”
We all checked out his wound. Yep, there was a gash alright. She bashed him good.
Benjie took his last bite and muffled with a mouth full, “That bitch.” He grabbed a napkin and went upstairs to clean himself up in the bathroom.
Meanwhile…we showed the younger McDonald what we were up to since they left. Rash Key, Jay Gee along with the older McDonald brother with myself included poured ourselves a half-shot of Everclear. Each of us then lit the Everclear in the shot glass on fire.
“What the…?” the younger McDonald said looking wide eyed. “What are you guys going to do now?”
Before he realized, all four of us at the same time, threw the flaming shot down our own throat.
“HOLY SHIT! That’s fucking crazy!”
“Oh yeah?” a voice said coming from the other side of the basement. It was coming from Cousin Mike as he stumbled toward the bar. “I’ll show ya how to do it.”
Cousin Mike grabbed the bottle of Everclear and an empty shot glass. He carelessly poured himself a FULL shot spilling alcohol all over his hand as well as the bar.
“This is how you do it.”
Before any of us knew what was going on, Cousin Mike lit his shot glass on fire.
And his hand.
And the bar.
But that didn’t stop him.
Cousin Mike went ahead and was going to finish what he started. He tried to throw that flaming shot down his throat. But it was more like him throwing a fireball at his entire face than down his throat.
Oh yes. He threw fire at his own face.
So, Cousin Mike lit his hand and face on fire along with the top of the bar. I freaked out and everybody started yelling. I just started whacking Cousin Mike in the face trying to put the fire out. He gripped onto the bar with both hands (one of them on fire) and let me slap the shit out of him. The idea soon spread because everybody stopped screaming and started slapping Cousin Mike in the face.
And I do mean everybody. Like four pairs of hands.
I then threw a towel over his burning hand and put out the bar.
After a few quick moments of trying to extinguish Cousin Mikes face the fire eventually went out.
But wait a minute.
Benjie wanted some of that.
From nowhere Benjie flew into the scene. Throwing himself over the bar and with a stretch – SLAP!
He slapped Cousin Mike the hardest of everybody…and the fire was already out.
But hold on.
This night doesn’t stop there.
We’ve all done it from time to time; walk into a store for two or three things and the next thing you know – you’re looking for a shopping cart. Two or three things has just turned into nine or ten things. In my case, thirteen.
My wife, Consuela (aka Swayla) and I, along with my nine month old son, Spencer (aka Spencer) were on our back from a function. When we were about to pass a grocery store, she remembered a few things that we needed for the house.
No big deal. I’ll carry Spencer as the three of us walk around and get the few items. Swayla grabbed one of those plastic baskets that are used just for that purpose. Instead of pushing a cart around for two or three items these plastic baskets were perfect. They were neatly stacked near the entrance.
Well, as you’ve probably guessed, we needed to track down a cart. Luckily, there was an empty cart nearby, so the transition was quick & painless. It’s not that there were a lot of items it was just that they were big and/or fragile (e.g. toilet paper, milk, rye bread, &c.).
Spencer wanted to switch. So instead of me carrying him, he wanted to get in the cart and get pushed around by Mom.
Again, no big deal.
However, after a minute or two, Spencer wasn’t satisfied.
I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to push him around in the cart.
I guess I’m more fun.
I wonder why? [rhetorical question]
“Okay, we’re done,” Swayla quickly said as Spencer and I zoomed past her.
I widened my eyes and looked at Spencer, “Time to go.”
I slowed down on the horseplay and the three of us casually walked towards the registers. The lines were full and the only short line was the “10 Items or Less” register. So that’s where I decided to head to.
We were still a good distance from the register when I noticed a young woman walking past me. She was holding a 3-pack of Irish Spring soap and a tube of toothpaste. She was headed for that same register.
Not on my watch! I quickened the pace.
“Wait,” Swayla warned, “we have more than 10 items I think.”
I heard her, but there was a crime unfolding.
And I had to stop her.
Damn she’s fast.
She knew I was tailing her.
She knew that I wanted to get in front of her. And…
she knew that it wasn’t going to happen.
We both knew.
Wait a minute…something happened!
She dropped her soap…then kicked it away from herself!
Time to make my move.
Spencer giggles as I speed up.
Needless to say, I’m in line ahead of this woman.
And yes, I’m a dick.
The woman slowly walks up flashing me her best “Eat shit & die” grin. Swayla soon walks up from behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asks me quietly.
I shake my head and look confuse as if I don’t know what she’s talking about. She looks down at the cart and starts counting the items.
“We have thirteen items.”
I keep looking around the store like I’m oblivious to what’s going on. Besides, can’t she I’m deflecting daggers from this woman’s eyes?
We were almost up.
“Jimmy,” Swayla said in a somewhat loud hushed voice trying to get my attention.
I look at her.
Pointing with her eyes by looking at the woman she says without moving her lips, “Let her go ahead.”
The woman knew what was going on. Everybody knew what was going on.
Except for Spencer. He was clueless.
“Next,” the cashier announced.
And to my surprise, I said to the woman, “Go ahead, you only have two items.”
“And you have thirteen, you’re in the wrong line!” She says that to me as she walks past sounding snooty.
She said that loud enough so that the cashier could hear on purpose.
The cashier’s face totally changed. She looked as though she was about to exercise a store policy. She was about to pull some authority.
As the cashier handed the woman her change she wished her a “Good Day”.
“I will now, thank you,” the woman responded back.
Now, it’s my turn.
In the summer of ’89 I had to attend summer school in order to receive my diploma. I was short one English credit.
No big deal, I lived 500′ away from Hammond High’s main entrance. I could wake up 10 minutes before school started and still make it on time.
Which I’ve actually done.
The rules on attendance were very strict. You were not allowed to miss more than two (2) days. If you missed three (3) or more days, you were disqualified from receiving any credit for that class. NO EXCEPTIONS!
I don’t sick often, but when I do…look out. I feel I’m on the edge of death when I get sick, especially with the flu – but in the summer? Who in the hell gets sick in the summer?
Oh, wait…I do now.
I used to never get sick – especially in the summer.
But of course, when I have to attend summer school, I get sick with a summer flu.
The summer flu…? Am I kidding?
I am not.
Thankfully, it started on a Friday night. Because when I awoke Saturday morning I thought I got hit by a truck. This wasn’t a hangover either (even if it was during the BEER HEISTS era)…it was death creeping up on me. I thought I might have had a touch of the stomach flu as well, because when I unloaded – man, I unloaded.
I was losing it out of both ends.
And at the same time too!
Trust me, it’s a disgustingly neat trick.
I shouldn’t have drank as much as I did the night before. All day Saturday I felt horrible. I couldn’t keep anything down. I was constantly on the toilet. I was freezing, but yet I was sweating as if I was burning up.
I was alone and I thought that I just entered the beginning stages of death.
I needed medication; some sort of medical attention, but I was clueless. I didn’t know what to do. By late evening, I realized that my dad wasn’t coming home and so I managed to gather enough sense to get off the living room floor and check the medicine cabinet.
But soon realized that we haven’t had anything in the medicine cabinet for quite some time.
I hunted through the kitchen cabinets, looking for anything that could ease my stomach and found nothing. I went for the cabinets above the stove – nothing.
Then something happened. Through the kitchen window I saw something that caught my attention. It moved across the backyard. The backyard light wasn’t on so it was hard to see clearly. It was large, stocky and low to the ground. I immediately thought it was a dog, but then I heard the rattle of the chain-link fence as if someone (or something) was trying to climb over it. Dogs don’t climb fences…do they? I tried to take a closer look, but the backyard was almost in complete darkness.
Whatever it was – it was gone now.
I still had no luck on finding any relief. I felt miserable. I couldn’t eat, drink or sleep. I eventually wandered into the kitchen to take another look in the cabinets. Again, I looked in the cabinets above the stove. Nothing.
I remembered that “thing” or whatever I saw move across the backyard. I moved the curtains even more off to the side and took another look. I decided to get a better look. I walked a few steps down to the landing and opened the back door. I stood inches away from the screen door and scoped things out.
There was the garage, the boat-house, the row boat…then I saw it. The street light in the alley gave the silhouette of what looked like a small husky figure wearing a horned helmet standing on the garage roof. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like it had a beard too. Before I could make ‘heads-or-tails’ of anything, it was gone. It must have ducked towards the back of the garage roof, becoming completely out of sight.
“What the…?” I said to myself. I thought, “Did I just see what I think I saw?”
I stood quietly and tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary.
But this is East Hammond, out of the ordinary is hard to distinguish.
Whatever it was, there was something definitely standing on the garage roof. Watching my toes, I quickly closed and locked the backdoor and ran back upstairs. I went to the back bedroom (which I called the “Red, White & Blue Room” for obvious reasons) and looked out the window which faced the backyard. Through this window, I had a better view of the garage roof, which I saw nothing.
Once again, whatever it was – it was gone now.
I still felt like crap Sunday morning. This was no hangover, I knew then that I was officially sick. I hardly slept because I kept tossing & turning. Not only because I wasn’t feeling well, but the thought of that ‘whatever-it-was’ on the roof really bothered me.
I know I saw a horned helmet.
I just know it.
I laid in bed and watched the sun rise and shine through the sides of the window shades. I finally got out of bed. It was 1 PM.
Yep, I’m sick.
Perfect. And I’ve got summer school the next day. Well, I might as well start the day.
I wore my sweat pants and a Hammond High School sweatshirt. I wandered out of my room and into the kitchen. I looked out the and noticed that the chain-link fence had been damaged. I pulled up my hood and got myself ready to go outside.
As I stood and looked at the fence I noticed that something had bent the chain link. It looked as if something heavy and/or strong climbed over the fence bending it all to hell.
My dad was going to be pissed.
Just when I was about to head back inside, I noticed a rather large boot print in the dirt/grass. This boot print (and several others) had tore up the grass as if someone were running through the yard. These prints were as long as mine, but were much wider.
My suspicions that I saw someone on the roof grew stronger.
Something wasn’t right.
Later that evening I spoke to Lisa and Brandy. They happen to be out-and-about with their friend Micky. I told them how sick I was, had nothing to treat it with and that I had school the next day. I wanted them to feel sorry for me – and it worked. They went to the drug store, bought me a BUNCH of stuff.
I didn’t tell them about what was going in the backyard, I figured I’d keep this to myself…for now.
Before bed, I loaded up on some over-the-counter medication and went to bed. My bedroom was at the front of the house, closer to the front yard. I slept with the side window slightly open. The sound coming from the traffic on Calumet Avenue I found soothing.
Not even fifteen (15) minutes in, I heard the chain link fence being rattled.
Once again, it sounded as if someone was trying to climb over it.
I mean, I heard it plain as day. But I just laid there with my eyes open and feeling heavy; listening to the clank and the rustle of the chain link fence. I didn’t care.
That’s because the NyQuil gel-caps I swallowed with a couple of chugs from the NyQuil bottle made it so that I was in no condition to go and investigate.
Good night, NyQuil.
I never found out what it REALLY was that was running around in the backyard. My dad never said anything about the fence being damaged when he came home a few days later. I wasn’t really sure if I should tell anyone…so I didn’t.
That is – until now.
I’ve wanted a war hammer ever since.
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 8,800 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Medical experts define phobias as a fear based on a “conditioned emotional experience”. A traumatic experience is most likely the cause of developing a phobia. Most times, something happened that has caused a tremendous amount of fear to someone when they were young and then developed into a phobia into adulthood.
However, some also believe that phobias may have been caused by biological evolution.
It’s also possible that some phobias can develop from another existing phobia.
There are people out there who are afraid of a lot of little things. From mice to rats, dogs and cats, falling, flying, heights, &c. The list is long and has plenty of room for new phobias. But the fear of numbers? Now that’s a bit odd – don’t you think?
Numerophobia is the extreme and irrational fear of numbers. It’s a rare occurrence when a sufferer of numerophobia will run from a group of numbers, but most rather just look away. The fear is that they will start adding the numbers together in different various ways and won’t be able to stop until every possible equation has been solved.
Numerophobia is also known as Arithmophobia. However, those who suffer from Arithmophobia fear specifically arithmetic. They are able to look at numbers however, if the numbers are arranged in a way where it looks as if it is an arithmetic problem, severe anxiety may start to develop.
Thought to have originated in the East long, long ago. The fear of the number four is respected by all classes. The number four sounds much like the word that means ‘death’. For fear that the number four may bring misfortune, a lot of high rise buildings has excluded the number four to appear on elevator buttons and floor descriptions.
Building designers have purposely left out the number four, or have replaced the number with the letter ‘F’.
The fear of the number five was not thought to be a phobia by many people. It wasn’t until after more & more cases started to surface that Quintaphobia finally joined the ‘unofficial’ Phobia List. It just seemed odd that the number five could bring such an extreme fear to some people. Fact is, nobody really knows ALL there is to know about phobias. Why are some people completely terrified over such seemingly harmless things…? or inanimate objects such as clouds, horseshoes or garden hoses?
If you’re wondering, there’s no phobia name for the fear of the number six. However, there is a name for fear of the number 666 and it is called hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia.
Septaphobia is another odd phobia. Most people consider the number seven as a very lucky number, but there are people who have an extreme and sometimes an irrational fear of the number.
Having a fear of such things as “numbers” is strangely odd. They’re unlike any other phobias, since phobias are mostly an extreme and irrational fear of ‘things’ & ‘situations’, but are treated the same as other phobias with therapy and facing the fear.
Octophobics not only fear the number eight, they also fear the figure eight. The figure eight doesn’t have to represent a number in order for someone who suffers from Octophobia to start feeling anxious. Seeing somebody twirl their finger in a figure eight pattern, or watching someone or something move in a figure eight pattern can set things off with an Octophobiac.
There isn’t a name for every little fear (or major fear, for that matter) that’s out there, but when a certain disorder becomes more & more common, experts will put a name for that disorder in order for other professionals to know what specific fear/phobia they are dealing with. Fear of the number nine isn’t popular enough to be considered a phobia, but it is suggested that it may come from Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (fear of the number 666).
Almost all cases of people who are fearful of the number nine are also fearful of the number 666. So experts just labeled these people as Hexakosioihexekekontahesaphobiacs. However, there are those very, VERY few who just fear the number nine – that’s it. So few, that no name is given to this extremely rare phobia.
I suggest Neunophobia, simply because “neun” means “nine” in German.
There’s no doubt that the number thirteen may make some people uneasy. Almost EVERYBODY knows that the number thirteen represents ‘bad luck’. If you personally do consider the number thirteen bad luck, but don’t fear the number, you’re like most. Then again, even if you do consider thirteen as a bad luck number and you make a fuss about it, you still may not have a phobia. It’s when you develop an extreme and irrational fear about the the number thirteen is when you can diagnois yourself as having Triskaidekaphobia.
1. It takes thirteen witches to make a perfect coven.
2. The murders of the Knights Templar were planned and executed on October 13, 1307
3. In a “Man’s World” the number 13 is considered a “girly” number so that alone makes it unlucky
4. During the Last Supper there were 13 in attendance, Judas (the 13th guest) was the first to rise and the first to die
Fear of the number twenty-three does NOT have a phobia name but there are people that fear it…kinda weird. It’s called the “The ’23’ Enigma” instead. Sounds more like a movie, but…wait.
There is a movie about “The ’23’ Enigma”, it’s called (no surprise) 23 starring Jim Carey.
The ’23’ Enigma means that people believe that most things and events can be traced back to the number 23.
Promote your book free on social media
News, Politics, Culture, Art, Style, Real Estate, Movie Reviews, TV recaps
What the Hell is Going On?
Creative Blog for Artists
Just another WordPress.com site
Decoding the Blog Scene One Post at a Time
"Some say the world will end in fire"
Like the IPC, but with less boobs.
"Помни, что жизнь проходит и каждый день уносит с собой её частицу. ..." Е.П. Блаватская
"Finding the lyric beyond the a cappella retaining respect for the greatest instrument of all, the singer's voice."
Showcasing the best of movies, and film festivals from around the world.
Daily summary of the life/movie world.
Feature Screenplay, TV Screenplay, Short Screenplay, Novel, Stage Play, Short Story, Poem, Film, Festival and Contest Reviews
MAKE the Opportunity
How- To Read Books
Cartoons by John Atkinson. ©John Atkinson, Wrong Hands
Sabotaging the System one Truth at a Time 365 Days a Year
Just another WordPress.com weblog