#i remember being in wal mart as a kid and my mom encouraging me to get a guy doll because i didn't have many

[shinysteph]

I think the Barbie movie would have been even funnier if Blaine was in the movie. The general public needs to know about the time Barbie and Ken canonically broke up for a while and she was hanging out with an Australian surfer guy named Blaine.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #247

“i tried to choke my mom with my umbilical cord, the doctor was too busy amputating my horns.”

Have you ever had confetti pancakes? I don't believe so. Do you obsess over your appearance? To a degree, ex. in regards to weight. Are you responsible for stuffing someone’s stocking? No. What’s your favorite romantic comedy? Ah man, idk. I like romcoms, just none are coming to mind right now. Do you stock up on make-up palettes during November? ????? no????? Have you ever taken a class online? Yes. Do you have a Neopets account? Omg I have so many piled up, I'm sure, lol. Loved that shit and kept going back. Do you make your own smoothies or juices? No. Do you think time really does heal all? No. Are you more sensitive to heat or the cold? HEAT, FUCKING CHRIST. Has anyone searched your room for anything recently? Mom helped me search for one of my mood stabilizers that the cat got out of my basket... We never found it. A new bottle. Thank god my psychiatrist just gave me a sample pack til my prescription can be refilled. Is anything in your room purposely hidden? Yes. Do you get a cold around the holidays? I rarely get sick, regardless of the season. Does it snow where you live? Rarely. Have you ever been pranked via hidden camera? No. Is hair gel a turn off on guys? "Not necessarily, but too much can be." <<<< This. Do you think cursing makes people sound unintelligent? Lol fuck off. What’s something you can cook extremely well? The only thing I CAN cook is cheesy scrambled eggs but I mean they're exceptionally good lol. Have you ever been bitten by a snake? Nope. How about a spider? Possibly at some point. If you don't want kids, was there ever a time you did, and vice-versa? The only time I ever wanted kids was deep into Jason's and my relationship. It's funny because I wanted three and now I'm just all NOPE. I stopped wanting kids after him. What is your favorite color for bridesmaid dresses? Idc. Do you ever count sheep to help you fall asleep? No. Do you have a youtube channel? If so, when did you start it? Yeah. I was on YouTube real early... don't remember the actual year, though. Do you have a secret crush right now? No. When was the last time you called customer service? I haven't. Do you take birth control pills? Not currently for mood reasons, but with my incredible fear of being raped, I kinda wanna go back. Do you like chocolate cake? Yeah man. Do you know anyone who doesn’t want to have kids? Plenty of people, myself included. Do you regret letting a certain guy or girl slip away? Ugh idk. There's no telling how awfully or well that path would've gone. Have you ever fainted? Yes. Do you consider yourself a good artist? Decent, anyway. Do you ever play board games anymore? Not really, I don't enjoy board games. The only time I ever really do is if Girt's over cuz that's like our "thing." Who was your first celebrity crush? Whew, Jesse McCartney. Who in your family did you get your height from? Mom. Who did you get your smile from? your hair color? your eye color? Smile, idk. Hair, also unsure. Dad was born dirty blond like me, but his hair turned black. Meanwhile I think Mom has always had brown hair, but hers is very dark/almost black. My maternal grandpa had blue eyes like me. Do you have big or small hands? Idk, normal. What was the name of your first imaginary friend you remember having? I never really had one. Do you pray to God regularly? Considering I don't believe in Him, no. What is your favorite version of the Bible to read? Even growing up religious, I sure never spent time reading various versions of the Bible. Have you been baptized? If so, how and where were you baptized? I was as a baby in a Roman Catholic church. You know, the traditional baptism with being dipped in water. Do you eat meat? Sadly. What college did you go to? and what was your major? I'm not sharing what college I go to, but my major is Art & Design. Do you miss living with a roommate? I look back on living with Jason, Jacob, and Amanda fondly most of the time, but idk if I can say I miss it. I at least don't miss my mental health. Have you ever been abused in any way? I feel incredibly thankful that I haven't... It seems like most people I know have been in some way or form. Do you like unicorns? Yeah man, they're dope. How old were you when you found out Santa wasn’t real? Idk, some year in elementary school. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? Ha ha no, I've got a cat for that. He insists on being cuddled most of the time. Name 3 things you are allergic to. Just pollen and silver. Oh, I do get headaches from artificial sweeteners, but "allergic" seems like the wrong word. Is there one book you have read over and over again because it’s so good? if so, which is it? The only two books I know I've read more than once are Because of Winn-Dixie and the Meerkat Manor book. Who was your favorite Rugrats character? Uhhh I think it was just regular ole Tommy. Which fairytale resembles your life the most? Uh idk. Do you play games on your phone a lot? No. What’s your favorite thing to do on your phone? Text Sara. Where do you buy most of your clothes? Wal-Mart or Hot Topic. Who is your favorite cousin? I don't have a favorite. Do you have family that lives in another state? Oh yeah, we're all the hell over the place. What states have you lived in? Only NC. Do you watch birth vlogs on youtube? bitch what the fuck What is your favorite type of cake? Red velvet. Favorite arcade game? I neeeeeed to find an arcade one day that actually has the Silent Hill game. It's so rare. I'm sure I'd love it. Have you ever found a roller coaster relaxing? Uh no, but I've never been on one, nor can I even imagine one ever being relaxing. Have you ever seen a spirit? I believe I have. Have you ever been kidnapped? Yikes no. Is there a running trail near your house? Not that I'm aware of. A game you cheated on in elementary school? None that I remember? Do you wear a retainer at night? I'm SUPPOSED to, but I haven't in so long that it doesn't even fit anymore. Where is the last place you had a kiss? The airport. When was the last time you cried out of physical pain? I think it hasn't been since that infected cyst was drained in like late '16. FUCK that. Have you ever done anything to Support the Troops? No. Do you donate blood? I did once, but now I'm too nervous to because I know I don't drink enough water and don't wanna faint. Have you ever owned the socks with toes on them? Ha, yeah, my sisters and I did. They were just a silly gift sometimes. What were you the last time you went trick or treating? WOW I couldn't even try to tell you, that's reaching far back. What was your favorite part about studying ancient Greeks and Romans? The badass names lmao. Where did your mom go to high school? Somewhere in NY. What’s a subject you would never major in? Mathematics. Is there someone who you can turn to for money and not be ashamed? No. I'm only EVER capable of doing so with Mom, but even then I don't like it. Have you ever swam in a river? Yeah, as a kiddo. I don't think I would now. What food do you love the smell of while it’s cooking? Cinnamon rolls omfggggg. What food do you hate the smell of uncooked? Fish, I guess? Has a bee ever stung you? Yes, once. Where did you last go camping? Never been. In what month do you start Christmas shopping? I can't Christmas shop considering I don't have an income. Have you ever slept in a bed with someone with bad BO? Yes. Do you have a favorite flavor at Baskin Robbins? No. Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity of the same sex? HUNNY Hannah Hart is a GODDESS godDAMN What kind of flowers would you plant in your garden? I'm too lazy for a garden. Do you believe that kids should be taught abstinence? I would definitely inform them of it being a completely valid and safest form of STD prevention, but I don't believe it should be what is "right." What's important is educating them on safe sex and to choose whom they're intimate with very carefully. I absolutely encourage them being taught what being "too young" means, too. Now what "too young" is can be argued, but let's be a late teen at least. When’s the last time you went to Chuck E. Cheese? Boy, I don't have a clue. What’s your favorite cheese or cheese flavored food? American. Cheese-flavored food is absolutely impossible to pick. Do you like black licorice? I hate licorice. Do you watch anything on the E! network? No. Have you ever tried out or thought of trying out for American Idol? Nope. Did you keep any momentos of high school dances? I had my... what's it called? The flower band on your wrist? Whatever, I had that for a long time. Do you still have clothes from your high school dances? I have both prom dresses. I'm probably gonna try to sell them this prom season though because I have absolutely no reason to keep them, and I'm poor lmao. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? No. Ever been to the original 13 colonies? I live in NC so like,,, Have you ever been to a concert that got out of control? Nope. Can you jump rope double dutch? I used to be able to as a kid. I loved jump rope. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? Eek... idk. Actually, I might know. I want to know, but also don't, if whether or not how I treated Jason after the breakup was abusive or not. I've asked people in my life, old therapist included, if it was from what I told them (which was honest), and the unanimous answer has been no, that I was sick/actually insane and heartbroken beyond words, but yeah. I still wonder about it. Do you have a bucket list? If so, what are the top three things? Not really, but I mean of course there's things I wanna do, top two (idk about three) being to meet Mark and visit the KMP to photograph and pet the meerkats. Do you feel you had a happy childhood? For the most part, yeah. When did you last cry in front of another person? Last week when I was having a meltdown about school. How do you feel about tattoos and piercings? Explain. I LIVE!!!!!!!! FOR THEM!!!!!!!! As someone who never felt totally comfortable in her body, one thing that has always helped me has been new tats and piercings. It's like a more permanent form of make-up, you could say. All they've ever done is make me like a part of myself. Do you wear a lot of makeup? Why/why not? I almost never do unless I want to take a "pretty" picture. Talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. JINKIES!!!!!!! UHHHHHHH man that's hard 'cuz there's a whole whoppin' load. I guess I can talk about some lyrics from Ozzy's "Life Won't Wait" that used to make me really emotional back in the dark days: "Every day that you wait, you're falling faster / no sleight of hand, no twist of fate, no ever after / when it's gone - it's gone, a fight to the bitter end." Just that whole song used to sting so much when I felt like I really was just entirely wasting my life being sad every day. Just like... a lot of Ozzy's lyrics have really resonated and stuck with me. I still have the hardest time believing the Parkinson's news. God, life's cruel. Poison a legendary singer's voice. I hope, so long he feels truly capable, this concert still happens so I can actually hear and see him one time and literally sob and okay I'm getting emotional basically I Love Ozzy Osbourne. List the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel. Ha, speaking of concerts. Only seen Alice Cooper, but it was aaaaaaamazing! Outside in a (mostly light) thunderstorm playing some classic good shit. It was a fun adventure, especially having my younger sis, a full-on redneck, come along just because she was bored and came for the ride. She was so, so, SO confused and creeped out and was NOT fucking happy when he brought his python on stage as he usually does. We were absolutely drenched when it was over; the ride home, we were freezing, and changing out of those soaked clothes was like a holy experience. Who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say? Jason telling me he forgives me and doesn't hate me. Do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organized/not organized? I don't, sadly. My bed is where I do like... everything, which I hate. I'd love to turn my sister's old room into like my "work" room, where I do homework, draw, etc., but I can't for a number of reasons. What is your night time routine? Go to the bathroom, take my meds, go to bed. Not very complicated. What’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know? Certain places I've "done things" oops. If you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? I wanna dye my hair lilac currently. I wouldn't change the style. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high? N/A What’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars? Murder, to name just one. If you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? If you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair? My hair is short now. What is the most important thing to you in your life right now? My mental health.

[lil-loucifer]

All greek myths you fool

Why are you like dis

GODS: Life

Zeus: What’s your name or nickname?

I go by “Lou,” but I have plenty of nicknames. You, for instance, call me “Lulu”

Hera: Where are you from?

NorCal.

Athena: How old are you?

Just turned eighteen B)

Hephaestus: When is your birthday?

July 19.

Aphrodite: What’s your relationship status?

Single af

Poseidon: What are your pronouns?

He/him/his.

Dionysus: Are you and extrovert or an introvert?

I am very much an introvert.

Demeter: Do you have any pets?

Two asshole dogs.

Apollo: What kind of music are you into?

All kinds of shit, honestly!

Artemis: What do you first notice about new people?

Whether or not they annoy me?

Hades: What’s a big fear of yours?

Being alone and unwanted and worthless!! :D

Ares: What’s a big pet peeve of yours?

They kinda come and go depending on the situation.

Hestia: Where do you consider home?

Uh... Probably my house, I guess? 

CREATURES: Lasts

Pegasus: Last movie you watched?

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (It just got released on Netflix so I finally got to watch it ewe)

Mermaid: Last tv show you finished?

Uhhhh fuckin Young Justice, probably

Centaur: Last book you read?

The Dark Prophecy. 

Siren: Last song you listened to?

Almost Human, by Voltaire

Gorgon: Last thing you ate?

Some pop-tarts?

Cyclops: Last time you cried?

I dunno, honestly, but I can tell you it as within this month >:D

Minotaur: Last time you were truly happy?

I don’t really know tbh

Sphynx: Last text you sent?

A good night text to a friend :P

Chimera: Last call you made?

Probably to my aunt to tell her I finished an errand -_-

Griffin: Last thing you did before going to sleep last night?

Uhhh, things. 

Nymph: Last dream you remember?

I always default to the Naked Chris Evans dream.

Satyr: Last time you couldn’t stop laughing?

My sister fuckin told me about the time my dad asked my mom out, it was hilarious

HEROES: Experiences

Heracles: Have you ever had a dream come true?

Not really, I don’t really have dreams.

Theseus: What is your worst regret?

Repressed ._.

Perseus: Have you ever been arrested?

Almost! :D

Cadmus: Have you ever had your heart broken?

Hell yeah I have! >:D

Achilles: Have you ever had to be hospitalized?

Nah, I’m a lucky boy

Actaeon: Tell about a memory you wish to forget.

A web of lies and deceits he weaved around his friends, his loved ones, all to preserve his own pride. That fucking piece of shit. 

Bellerophon: Have you ever passed out?

Nah.

Agamemnon: What is an achievement you’re proud of?

I have literally just been wasting oxygen my entire life~

Oedipus: Have you ever been in love?

Maybe?

Jason: Have you ever travelled abroad? Where?

I’ve travelled to the Philippines with my mom when I was like, five or six. I spent have the trip in a fever haze :P

Atlanta: Have you ever stood up for someone else?

Yeah, I think? We never spoke again after that, so...

Hippolytus: Tell an experience you will never forget.

Alright, soo, in senior year of high school, I signed up for an elective science class right? It was fuckin’ forensic science, so yeah, I know a few CSI techniques, like, you ask me to dust somewhere for prints, I’ma fuck it up, but I know how it works.  But that year, the higher-level science classes had to do a fuckin presentation to the sophomores and shit, to encourage them to sign up for science classes even after they’d fulfilled their graduation reqs for science. 

Anyways, one of the courses the presentation would involve was Forensic Science. I signed up to be in the presentation group so I could ditch classes the whole day, and it was pretty hype. 

So, there were a bunch of science kids backstage, preparing little experiments and showcases to show to the audience; like, the chemistry kids had a small smokescreen, the AP Physics kids had something involving wind socks? And the fuckin Marine Bio kids had a fucking skull from a shark. I shit you not. 

And then there was us. Forensic fucking Science. So, our teacher, Ms. P., she was in charge of hosting the damn show. So, I guess she was so caught up in the planning for it that she forgot to suggest a showcasing for us. So when the presentation team for Forensic Science, by far the largest group of six, compared to the other’s average of two or four, talked to our teacher to ask what we should say and/or do, she replied “I don’t know, improvise?” 

So we improvise. Our routine got better throughout the day, but it would normally start like this: I say in my best creepy tone of voice “Hello everybody, we’re here to talk to you about murder,” and briefly go over what the rest of the people in my team would do, then they talk about the technical aspects and the activities, a little bit of what we learn, one guy makes a reference to pop culture, and then we finish it off with a shitty pun. Then we’d go backstage again and wait until the last presentation, Marine Bio, finished up their part, and go back onstage to answer any questions the audience might have about the classes. 

Now, we didn’t really have much visual aid, compared to the other sciences. The AP Chem kids wowed people with their home made smokescreen, the Physics kids did some kind of breathplay shit, and the Marine Bio guy let the audience pass the shark head around so they could get a better look at it.

The most riveting thing my group had was, apparently, me. Like, really. Standing next to the other forensic science kids, I was basically Abby from NCIS, meaning I stood the fuck out my dyed hair and actual Forensic Science class shirt I wore just for the occasion, and I behaved in the most weird/interesting manner I could manage. So naturally when we go back up on stage for the Q&A session, the one person who had questions about Forensic Science, directed his questions towards me. Now, that shouldn’t be a problem for someone who knew shit about the class.

The thing is, it was fuckin me. I didn’t know JACK SHIT. So I had to fuckin improvise. 

“What kind of cases do you get in Forensic Science?”

Fuck. Shit. We haven’t done any mock crime scenes yet. Fuck.

“Well, we uh... We get a huge variety of cases, scenarios, situations and the like, Ms.P. changes it up all the time. ...Uh, you feel me?”

Then someone else stepped in to save my dumb ass, and I hung my head and moped back to the group. Everyone finished up asking their questions, and we had to remain on stage while the audience filed out to leave. 

But then, the Marine Bio guy dashed up to the mic podium and worriedly said, “Yo wait, guys, where’s the shark head?” 

He never got the shark head back. 

So the Marine Bio guy’s freaking out, he jumps off the stage to look for the shark head, and the Ms. P. turns to me and says, in the most serious tone of voice, the funniest thing anyone hasever said to me: 

“Find the head.”

And after a few objections, I left to lead the Forensic Science team to find the head.

Since I’m a shitty leader, they didn’t listen to me, so I tried to profile the crowd on my own. 

So after several disastrous attempts at finding the shark head, a guy from the Forensic Science team, Don, says “Guys, I found the head.” 

Turns out one of the guy’s friends was the last one to hold the head, so he just snuck backstage and left it on the Marine Bio guy’s bag. 

MAGICAL ITEMS: Favorites  

Trident: Who are your favorite people?

My close-ass friends, like you

Lightning Bolt: What are your top three favorite movies?

NOT “The Lightning Thief.” 

1: Wreck-It Ralph

2: The Kingsman movies

3: Patch Adams

Sun Chariot: What is your favorite mythological creature?

I got nothing, sorry

Lyre: What are your top three favorite songs?

CAN’T CHOOSE

Caduceus: What is your favorite color?

Blue or black!!

Aegis: What is your favorite book or series?

Percy Jackson holds a special place in my heart.

Scythe: What is your favorite tv show?

Lucifer, on Fox

Bident: What is your favorite way to spend free time?

Video games, probably

Harpe: What are your top 3 favorite places?

1: Borders Barns & Noble Whatever fuckin bookstores we’ve got left

2: Somewhere quiet and dark and lonely. 

3: Where the food is

Cornucopia: What is your favorite place to eat?

...In my room?

Winged Sandals: What is your favorite thing to do when you hangout with your friends?

I dunno, I don’t really have friends to hang out with :P

Golden Fleece: What is your favorite animal?

Cats and dogs!!

PLACES: Goals and Wishes

Olympus: Describe your dream job.

Just fuckin chilling? I dunno. Something quiet, but not too boring. 

Tartarus: What’s a short term goal you hope to achieve?

Graduate college?

Underworld: Describe your dream vacation.

Staycation~

Styx: How would you like your life to look like in 10 years?

Stable job, reliable income, close friends and confidants. I hope to be able to properly comprehend and acknowledge my own emotions one day.

Athuna: If you could live anywhere in the world for the rest of your life, where would it be?

I think I’m good where I am.

Sparta: Do you have a bucket list? If so, what’s on it?

Not really.

Elysium: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?

Mimicry of skills, abilities and powers.

Ogygia: Describe your dream husband/wife/life partner?

Top trait: Low standards

Troja: What is the craziest thing you wanna do before you die?

KNIFE FIGHT A BITCH IN A WAL-MART PARKING LOT

The Labyrinth: Have you ever died and came back to life as a vampire?

Yeah, totally.

Delphi: Are you currently doing anything to pursue your dreams?

I don’t have dreams -w-

[ecotone99]

[HM] Faking a Murder in Moonville Tunnel: A True Story of Teenage Debauchery

I also posted this short story on Medium.

Faking a Murder in Moonville Tunnel

A True Story of Teenage Debauchery

A Quick Preface

During my early teenage years, I was absolutely obsessed with World War Two history. I collected two entire sets of vintage combat fatigues and field gear—complete with M1 Garand rifle and a sidearm revolver—and participated in World War Two battle reenactments whenever possible.

Since I was probably the youngest person in the universe with a desire to take part in historic battle reenactments, I was mostly running around a field with middle-aged guys in American and British military uniforms, shooting blanks at middle-aged guys in German wehrmacht uniforms. (Side note: shooting at Nazis is fun regardless of situational context).

I also wore my fatigues to school on the anniversaries of major battles and events. As one would imagine, donning moth-bitten old army uniforms and constantly spouting-off dates of historical remembrance doesn’t exactly make you the most popular kid in school. When I reached my late teens, my interest in social debauchery began to outweigh the battles of yore. So followed plenty of beer and plenty of trouble. By the time I graduated high school, the old 101st Airborne and 1st Infantry uniforms were packed away in dust-covered rubbermaid totes.

Murder at Moonville Tunnel

On some Friday or Saturday nights during the summer after graduation, my friends and I would make the one-hour drive to an abandoned railway tunnel called Moonville. Deep in the woods by way of an old gravel forest road, it had a local reputation for being haunted.

College kids would drive up from nearby Ohio University in Athens. They came in search of ghosts; and boy did Moonville deliver (at least when my friends and I were around). Those kids are probably telling folks to this day about the paranormal phenomena they witnessed deep in the woods of Ohio in an old abandoned tunnel … In reality it was my friend Dustin making spooky noises and rolling boulders into the creek; or my friend Kyle walking across the far entrance of the tunnel in an old wedding dress; or even just an explosive rustling of bushes and growling noises—enough to send even the most cool and collected frat boys running for the safety of their sedans.

On other occasions, we’d take unsuspecting friends for their first visit and put them through the usual rounds of teenage scare-tactics—yelling BOO, making spooky noises; boilerplate stuff. Teenagers having teenage fun. Until—as teenagers often do—we took it too far…

On a Saturday that could have been any other given Saturday, a bunch of us were hanging around the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart. Someone suggested we drive down to Moonville Tunnel. A group of four or five girls in our little crowd had never been before; so the boys began our usual rite of preparedness, telling them that the tunnel is haunted and that they were likely to run into a few ghoulish entities from beyond our earthly world.

A few of us—Kyle, Dustin, Greg, Dewey, Joey, and myself—went into the Wal-Mart to grab a few supplies for our journey. While we were standing in the checkout line, a terrible, insidious light bulb burned to life inside my brain. I told my three friends about my newly-hatched plan and thus, the cogs began to turn.

Back outside in the parking lot, Greg and I told the rest of the group that we were going to have to sit this one out: We had been called in to do some work early the next morning, we told them. Bummer.

Leaving the Wal-Mart, we turned onto Bridge Street and drove twenty minutes to my house. I dug into my closet and pulled out an old army ammo crate. I grabbed an en-bloc clip filled with .30–06 blanks, a handful of .22 blanks, and loaded my old blank-firing M1 rifle and .22 pistol into the back seat of my friend’s truck.

Operating through a spy network of covert texts sent via Motorola RAZR flip phones, Greg and I timed our arrival in Moonville—down the miles of dusty and unmaintained county roads, deep into the forest, to the makeshift parking area—to precede our group of friends. We drove past the parking area, farther into the woods, until we found a pull-off with enough space to hide the truck.

Carrying our weapons of mass disfunction, we backtracked toward the trailhead to Moonville Tunnel. We crossed a bridge over a wide creek, into and through the regular parking area at which our friends would soon be arriving. It was next to a wide creek with a bridge over it. The entire parking area was a muddy quagmire at the time. We carefully rock-hopped through the sludge until we reached the beaten path of the trailhead. Once we’d hiked the half-mile back to the old creepy tunnel, we took up positions in the heavy underbrush.

Thanks to our two insiders, Dustin and Kyle, our timing was impeccable. We had settled into the leaves not more than ten minutes before we heard familiar voices coming up the trail from the parking lot.

As the caravan of our buddies traveled across the path in front of us, I noticed that Kyle’s mom and dad—Carl and Robbie—had joined the group. Carl had a habit of encouraging (rather than discouraging) these types of activities. I knew he was in on the plan when the group reached the middle of the tunnel and I heard him instruct everyone, amidst protests from some of the girls, to turn off their flashlights and “see if any ghosts come out.”

We took this as our cue. Greg and I crept to the entrance, pointed our blank-loaded guns toward the decrepit ceiling of the tunnel, and I whispered, “One … two … three—” BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAM!

The sound of cannon-fire, screams, and laughter filled the tunnel as friends slipped in the mud, spun in circles, cried for their mothers, and struggled to regain their grip on reality.

Everyone who was in on the joke—Greg and I included—burst into a fit of laughter and the rest of our friends quickly realized they’d been bamboozled.

This is probably where the prank should have ended.

About an hour later we were in the main parking lot. Most of our friends had already left for home, but a few of us were still standing around and talking. I was going to hitch a ride back with Kyle and his parents, and had just loaded my things into the back of their truck. Just as I closed the door, a car pulled into the muddy parking area. My friends and I looked at each other. “College kids,” someone said.

“You outta get out that pistol and fuck with em,” Kyle’s dad suggested to me with a boyish grin.

It took no more cajoling than that for the rest of us to jump onboard with the plan—even though at the current moment there was no more “plan” than the suggestion of “getting out the pistol and fucking with” the college kids.

I discreetly opened the truck and harnessed my little revolver in a shoulder holster underneath my jacket as Carl approached the college kids. He introduced himself and told them we had just arrived as well; that we were getting ready to check out the supposedly haunted tunnel; and that we were first-timers.

I approached the group and took stock of them. There were five total: One big, tall corn-fed fellow who could have been a linebacker, a short guy in glasses who was about as wide as he was tall, and three innocent-looking girls who looked like they had just moved into their freshman dorms.

Of the five of them, I only remember the name of the short guy in the glasses: Dakota. An interesting name, which might be why it stuck with me after all these years. Or it could be because Dakota’s introduction prompted Dustin to spontaneously (and untruthfully, I might add) tell the group of strangers that he happened to live in North Dakota, where he was a professional bull-rider. His name was Mike, by the way, and he was only in Ohio to visit his cousin, Jeremy [Kyle] here. One of the girls went to shake his hand in greeting, but when they reached for it, Dustin held up an empty jacket sleeve (his hand was pulled back inside of it) and told them he had lost the hand in an accident on his family’s ranch as a child. “Kinda messed up of you to try to shake my nub,” he told her. When she issued an embarrassed apology, he accepted.

As the group of college kids were enamored by Dustin’s tall tales of Dakotan bull riding and lopped-off appendages, Carl leaned back and whispered to me, “Act like you’re hammered drunk.”

Thus, I mentally consumed a pint or so of corn whiskey and assumed the name of Sam. “Nice to—hic—meet ya,” I slurred to them.

We started down the trail. Dakota told us that he had been to Moonville Tunnel several times. He knew all kinds of interesting facts about its history. There was an old mining village beyond the tunnel that was abandoned in the late 1850s, he told us. You had to cross a stream to get to it. There have been several recorded deaths, one in 1958 when a brakeman fell onto the tracks. We learned quite a bit from Dakota on our walk back to the tunnel, and in return, we filled his head with as many lies as it could hold.

Finally we made it to the tunnel, walked through it, and approached a stream on the other side. “The mining village is just a little farther, past this creek,” Dakota told us. “Just need to cross on this log.” He pointed to a mossy fallen tree that spanned over frigid, rushing water.

Carl turned to me. “Sam, your drunk ass is liable to fall off that thing and drown yourself.” I took the hint, and after a couple of lines faux-protest, I consented to stay behind with Carl, Kyle, our friend Dewey, and Kyle’s mom Robbie. The college kids, along with Dustin and a few of our other friends, crossed the creek on the log and disappeared into the woods on the other side.

As soon as we figured they were out of earshot, we started to conspire. Of course, Carl was the first to offer a suggestion: “We should wait for them to get halfway across that log and fire the blanks at them so they fall in the creek.”

I imagined news headlines of a tragic accidental drowning, all caused by a group of prankster teenagers who would learn a valuable life lesson by way of spending their twenties and thirties behind bars.

“I have a better idea,” I said.

About fifteen or twenty minutes later, we were back in the tunnel and patiently waiting. As soon as we heard voices coming down the trail, Kyle and I started to argue.

Somehow, despite the fact that we were but a simple troupe of Appalachian hillbillies with zero acting experience, I swear the performance that would follow could have won an Oscar:

“I saw your number in her goddamn phone!” I slurred to Kyle. Dewey was holding him back against the wall of the tunnel and Carl was holding me back on the opposite side.

“Bullshit,” Kyle replied, “you’re fuckin delusional. Every time you get like this you start accusing me of this shit, you paranoid asshole.”

The back-and-forth continued until the group of strangers and friends approached our impromptu stage. Dustin and our other buddies hung around, (not in on the plan at this point themselves); the college kids passed between Kyle and me with confused caution.

Our improv routine escalated.

“Boys, calm the hell down,” Carl told us. Then to me, “Sam, you’re drunk.”

“So what if I’m drunk,” I told him. “He knows what the fuck he did.”

Kyle started to push Dewey away to get to me and Dewey tried to ‘calm him down’ in the same manner as Carl. “Jeremy [Kyle] goddammit, he’s drunk, let it go—”

“I ain’t lettin shit go, get the fuck off of me—”

The college kids hung a few feet away in the tunnel and watched as Kyle tried to get past Dewey.

“This is the last time,” I told Kyle, “the last time I hear about you trying to fuck her behind my back.” I reached into my jacket and started to pull the revolver from its holster.

Carl’s entire demeanor changed from the moment my arm reached in my jacket to produce our primary plot device:

“Jeremy—Jeremy he has a gun—HE HAS A GUN JEREMY, GET BACK—”

Cue collective gasps from the college kids. Carl wrestled with me and pleaded for ‘Jeremy’ to run, but Kyle’s character wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, you need a fuckin gun huh? Pussy ass little bitch—” he made it past Dewey and halfway across the tunnel with fists raised when suddenly I ‘managed to free my hand from Carl’s grasp’ and aimed the pistol at my faux-foe.

A cacophony of noise erupted in quick succession:

“NOOO!” screamed several of the college kids as they saw the pistol being pointed at their new friend Jeremy.

BANG! went the sound of the first shot as it reverberated through the tunnel like a stick of dynamite exploding in someone’s living room.

And then there were the screams. The most awful, blood-curdling cries of terror that you could ever hear. The kind of screams that stay with you for the rest of your life—even as you write about it over a decade later.

Kyle dropped to the floor of the tunnel. I fired two more shots, and with each of them his ‘lifeless body’ convulsed a half a foot into the air.

Carl’s performance continued. He left me and rushed to Kyle, who was stifling laughs between his best attempts at a dead guy impression. “Robbie, call 911!” Carl yelled. “Robbie, he’s not breathing! Call 911 right now!”

I collapsed against the wall and began to ‘drunkenly weep’ at the sight of what I’d done. The gun fell to the ground.

Carl turned and grabbed the lapels of my jacket, slamming me into the concrete wall. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO NOW?!” he asked me. “HE’S DEAD, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!”

“I don’t know,” I cried. “I don’t know, I can—we can—we’ll put his body in the creek and—oh god, I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry …”

Carl started to laugh. We turned and saw that the college kids had already made it to the other end of the tunnel. They paused at its opening, disoriented and panicking.

“We-we-we need to g-g-get to h-higher ground!” Dakota screamed.

“Run down there and scare ’em,” Carl told me.

Something in me, a little voice, thought for just a fraction of a second that maybe we had already taken things too far … but the laughter of my friends on our end of the tunnel was like an addictive drug. Laughter, which, either didn’t reach the ears or the consciousness of the college kids. When I took off down the tunnel, they saw me and screamed all over again. They pushed each other out of the way and stumbled in the mud trying to turn, and then fled down the trail toward the parking lot. The laugher in my ears waned and with it, its effect. I thought, These people are going to be traumatized for the rest of their lives if they leave here believing someone was murdered.

I holstered the pistol and continued out of the tunnel and down the trail, trying to catch up with them. By the time I reached the parking lot, they were already in their car. Dakota was behind the wheel, and the big linebacker was in the passenger seat.

Their car was stuck in the mud. Wrrrrrr …. wrrrrrrrrrr … The front tires were spinning backwards with the speed of a straight-lane dragster, but the car wasn’t budging from its mire.

As I entered the glow of their headlights, I saw both of their eyes grow to the size of baseballs.

“Stop! Stop, it was just a joke!” I yelled, waving my hands.

From inside the car, they saw the guy who just killed his friend running toward them, shouting nonsense, and waving his arms wildly.

The passenger door opened and the linebacker tumbled out and ran at a full sprint into the opposite tree-line until I heard a SPLASH as he swam across the creek near the main parking area to the other side.

Dakota panicked and put the car in drive, suddenly propelling it forward into a boulder on the edge of the parking area and smashing the front fender.

I finally reached their car and they screamed in unison before I held up my hands. “Guys, this was all a joke. It was all a joke, I’m so sorry. There were just blanks in the gun. My friend Kyle—uhh, Jeremy—is coming out of the woods right now.”

Dakota was sobbing. “I don’t care,” he cried. “I don’t care, I don’t fucking care I just want to go.”

All three girls in the back were sobbing.

My god, what have we done, I thought.

“It was just a joke,” I repeated. “We thought it would be—”

“Just a joke?” I heard a voice behind me. I turned to see the linebacker towering over me, clothes dripping, face covered in briar scratches. “It was just a joke, huh?”

About that time my friends were running back into the parking area from the trail.

“Uhhh, listen man,” I stammered. “I don’t want any trouble, we were just—”

“You don’t want any trouble? Don’t want any TROUBLE?!”

He started to raise his fist but Dewey pushed me out of the way and stepped in front of him. “Get in your fucking car … and go back to Athens.”

Several other friends stood behind Dewey and the linebacker eyed them all.

Dakota called from the bruised Camry … “C-come on, let’s just get out of here.”

The linebacker took a deep breath and pushed past Dewey. He went to the front of the car and pushed, along with a couple of our friends, while Dakota was finally able to back the car into the gravel road.

The linebacker paused at the open car door and turned to look at us one more time. “Just so you know. We’re calling the sheriff when we get back to Athens.”

He got into the car and they sped away, trailed by a contrail of flying gravel and mud.

We were silent; everyone realizing the gravity of what had just happened. Well except maybe for one of us: Carl started laughing his ass off.

“What?” Kyle asked him.

“Hell,” he said once he’d caught a breath. “They’re gonna call the sheriff and tell em they met some guy named Mike, who’s a one-armed bull rider from North Dakota, and saw his drunk friend Sam shoot a guy named Jeremy.”

submitted by /u/tomedwardsmusic [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2VxhuFs

[dominiquewald]

Miracles Made effortless - The Four Types of Miracles and exactly How To produce them that you experienced

Miracle A: Mini Miracle There are four types of miracles. You probably experience the type that is first, without realizing it. Here is the mini-miracle or the infant step miracle. They are daily events, such as finding a parking space right in front of Costco on Christmas Eve, for example. An additional full case, perchance you think of who you need to speak with and they call -- away from the blue. A week ago I happened to be wandering down the bread aisle at the supermarket, wondering whenever my son Anton's basketball game was and I ran into another mom on the team who knew the answer appropriate then. Author Jean Shonoda Bolen says, "Synchronicity can pave the method for people coming together. The delicate, unseen hand of fate, destiny, synchronicity or underlying Tao can be discerned. by unraveling the circumstances through which two people meet to enter a significant relationship" Simply place, she actually is referring for this style of miracle. Perhaps you will find the book that is right the right time, as says mythologist William Irwin Thompson, "A university can will give you library, but what makes the guide you are not in search of fall off the shelf and into the hands?" When I was destitute, my wonders were simple, such as finding spare modification hidden in my pockets when I had just run out of cash for food. A miracle had been getting a trip to and from school for my young ones through the rainy season whenever we did not umbrellas that are own raincoats or hats. I walked two to three miles per day in the San Francisco that is chilly rain. My close friend Lalo couldn't bear to see me therefore beaten down, and he bought me a beat up, salvaged 1981 acim Volvo that spit fumes. The car became my Golden Red Chariot-- my miracle vehicle. It didn't matter that the roof leaked and the car had no heat. It went. We had transportation! Thanksgiving and Christmas were celebrated, once we miraculously received gift suggestions of turkey and trimmings. A neighbor knocked on my door with a made up story about winning an extra turkey at work. Right. A mother from the institution handed me something special certificate for a dinner that is ready-made detailed with stuffing. Believe me, you could never ever convince me personally that miracles do not occur, them even during the bleakest of moments because I experienced. Just What constitutes a wonder to anyone may go unnoticed by another. A few cents for food and a beat up Volvo might be a curse to an affluent family, but to me, they certainly were blessings in disguise. At the time, an easy turkey intended the planet to me. Therefore everyone will have a slightly different concept of what a miracle means to them personally.. It's simple to neglect or discount the little events as they occur. That's why we call everything that is positive that comes my way a miracle. I never leave anything down, me 24/7.. Miracle B: The "Lucky" Miracle The second type of miracle is what some consider luck, good fortune or sheer coincidence because I want a steady stream of wonderfully nice things happening to. For instance, you might say that Sam Walton was fortunate to have succeeded in creating Wal-Mart and Sam's. I am talking about, a few others had tried to do so and failed. It should have been luck or fate or any sort of accident it where others did not that he did. To become lucky, in the genuine sense, is to become purposeful, mindful, intuitive, listening to your responses and using your very own sense of rhythm towards a destination. We classify it as a miracle, because it appears as though the good luck occurs at just the right time as you create this aura of winning, sometimes. It may feel like divine intervention that saved your life. Was that luck or a miracle? Did God take action or did you? Individuals who are consistently happy are manifesting outwardly a disciplined and concentrated approach in the inside. They normally are following a quest, a voice, a gut that is intuitive, and so they are dedicated to seeing it through. They have created the mind-set, the brew, and the soil for his or her miracle. Remember, the world shall send us what we ask for. Two days ago, I stood behind a handsome more youthful man outside the restroom on a Southwest Commuter Flight. Just that morning I had expressed a need to find foods that are raw. Three hours later on I meet a man who operates a business that imports raw foods from third globe countries and markets them to major normal food stores. Synchronicity of events does occur on a regular basis, when you say to our friends, 'we was just thinking of you, and here you are in Safeway at the actual moment that is precise am.' That we survived is really a major wonder indeed. 2001 was the bleakest year in my life. The kids and I also made a decision to not celebrate Christmas time. No stomach was had by us for additional disappointments. My lawyer asked me the way I coped with losing every thing and being reduced to food stamps and poverty. I had to tell him. He was written by me a page. The letter became a three page double spaced 1000 word article. With a tremendous feeling of freedom, I e-mailed the piece to six newspapers, three in Ca, and three in New York City, my birthplace. Imagine my shock when I returned home to a voicemail from David Burgin, editor of this San Francisco Examiner. He informed me my writing was exceptional, boosting my ego one thousand fold and actually posted the piece on the front page on December 19, 2001. The response ended up being undoubtedly miraculous. Fifty people responded with letters of encouragement and contributions of food, presents, slippers, bathrobes, groceries and cash. We unexpectedly felt rich beyond belief. These functions of kindness were perhaps not coincidence. It wasnot only accidental, and it surely wasn't random. They were the miracles I became creating, without even realizing it. I now know these principles work if applied with 100 per cent commitment and intention. Anything less than 100 % will maybe not be successful. I have written this book to show you how to activate your miracles and make your dreams that are own true. One of my radio show visitors calls himself Dr. Luck. Randall Fitzgerald has devoted a lifetime to researching the qualities that lucky people have in keeping. He says, in his book, Lucky You, "we seem to enhance our chances of being blessed with good fortune," he writes if we recognize and appreciate the appearance of serendipity and synchronicity in our lives. "To some extent, there is apparently a legislation of attraction at work right here - the more we notice one thing, the more we attract it into our lives." He believes that if you accept "the miraculous" you'll have "the blessings of good fortune." This means, fortune is an attitude. This is important because winners whom consistently win, tell us that they get right into a flow during which everything comes in their mind. Success isn't just by accident; lucky individuals create it from their mindset of prosperity. You have actually heard the saying, 'success breeds success.' Spend time with positive, successful friends and you may walk away feeling naturally good. Miracle C: Lifetime Changing, Transformational Miracle The third sort of miracle is the life changing, transformational miracles which have lead you to completely change your focus and life direction. Accidents, illnesses, divorce, job losses force you to reconsider your choices. This miracle that is transformational an unwelcome friend pushing you along to learn your true life's purpose.