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About Me:

I'm a 21 year old gamer from Canada who refuses to accept rational or logical explanations of all things. Armed with a large vocabulary and total disregard for morals and opinions, I fight for Justice. Or Destruction. Which ever gets me teh pwn.




Also, here are 10 things you didn't know about me



Games I've Played worth mentioning
Resident Evil Series
Shining Force Series
All the Sonics. ALL of them.
Command and Conquer Series
Fallout 1,2 and 3
The Elder Scrolls Series

A Genuinely Scary Story

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9

Other Stories I've Written

Risque Business
Karma
Monkey Business
The Chronicles of Niero
A Tribute to ZzFFTLzZ: The End of Douchebaggery
Skid Marks
Tastes on the Danforth: The Harbinger of Death
Didn't see that one coming
The Gross Out
Fear: Shit makes you run
You can't get out eggnog stains
Rage is the best investment
Stupid is as stupid does
Necessity above all else
The most horrific story ever told
Dunk-a-roos: Crack for children

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Tehmtnlion
12:31 PM on 03.20.2009

I'm having a slow relaxing day today and I thought I'd break from my Zombie research to share a few laughs with you guys. Here's a story about something that happened to me while I was far away from home, with no one to bail me out. Enjoy!



The urge to travel is something we should all embrace. To get up from your usually routine and to journey to a new place is a fun and sometimes an enlightening experience. Travel, when we were younger as a species, was seen as a massive undertaking. With limited forms of transportation, travel was viewed as something out of necessity. As it stands now, travel is now a thing of leisure. Cars, buses, trains, boats, planes, we use each of these to travel efficiently across the globe in adventures for fun. Recently, I decided to use a less take path when it comes to travel. I decided to use my thumb and hitchhike around Ontario.

I started out from my house in Guelph and headed down to the border. From there, I went to Toronto, then to Ottawa and traveled along the Ontario-Quebec border and stopped in a few small villages along the way. I had had a few interesting encounters up til this point, but as I was riding towards a certain town sign, I had no idea that the most interesting event was yet to come. The town in question was a francophone community called Hearst.

We pulled into a gas station on the outskirts of this town and I thanked the truck driver for taking me this far. As I hopped out of the rig and started to walk away, he rolled down his window and called out to me.

"Should you need a place to stay," he began, "there's a place right downtown town that has rooms and serves meals. and you'll surely have some fun while your there." He winked, waved goodbye a second time and pulled out of the station.

I was kind of confused as to what he meant, but the sun was beginning to set and it was starting to get cold. I decided that this would be a good a place as any and started towards the center of town. A town of just over 5000 people, I was quickly noticed as not being from the area. As I walked past pedestrians, they all looked me over, but always met my eyes with a smile. I knew that I was getting close to this town's center, but I still had no idea where I was looking for. I stopped in at a convenience store to ask for directions. The clerk immediately knew what I was talking about. He gave me the directions and I bid him good bye. As I walked out I over heard him saying something like "young men are never change", but I didn't respond back.

10 minutes later I was standing in front of the place. It was a beautiful old building, the exterior was made from wood, the architecture was that of an old colonial home. Large ornate windows lines the front on both the first and second floors. Night had fallen and the windows glowed with a warm inviting light. I grabbed the handle of one of the double doors and stepped inside. The smell of delicious food greeted me. The place was packed. Tables were filled with patrons and the bar was crowded. I noticed that all of the women in the place where absolutely gorgeous. I made a mental note to buy a drink for that truck driver if I ever met him again. Taking my back pack off, I walked into the bar and got the bartenders attention and asked for a room.

Taking my key from the woman, I walked up the stairs and went into my room and dropped my bags at the foot of the bed. It was then when my stomach growled. I left the room and eagerly found a table back down in the dining room.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The meal was delicious and the drinks were cheap. I quickly made friends at the bar and danced with some of the woman. The band that was on stage played mostly covers, but every once in a while, they played a french drinking song which every patron joined in on. I played cards, shot pool and threw darts as I continued to drink my face off. The crowd continued to grow as the night went on, and there didn't seem to be one ugly woman in sight and they all flirted with everyone. I knew that I would never forget this night.

Unfortunately for me, I didn't realize how correct I was.

Last call rang out at 2 and I was finishing the last of my pint singing the last few verses of an old French children's song Alouette, Gentille Alouette. As the band finished, a roar came from the crowd and we cheered them from the stage. I stumbled back to the bar, paid my tab and headed towards the stairs. I noticed that a lot of people were doing the same thing. Hmm, I thought to myself, there are a lot of people traveling through here tonight. Gripping the railing, I weaved up the steps and to my room.

I was so drunk that I stumbled into the door. It took me about 3 minutes to get the key into the lock, other patrons were entering their rooms the entire time, each of them taking one of the beautiful woman into the room with them. Lucky bastards, I thought. Finally, I turned the lock and stepped into my room.

Michelle, one of the women from downstairs, was waiting in the room for me and she was looking damn sexy. I drunkenly sauntered over to bed and sat down beside her. I thought a win was in the works.

We started to talk and I shamelessly flirted, to which she flirted back, equally shameless. I told her about my trek hitchhiking around Ontario and she was fully enthralled. I was about to attempt to seal the deal and get a little action, but she beat me to the punch.

I was unprepared for the delivery however.

"So," she cooed, "you must be feeling very tired and wanting to relax. I may be able to help you with that."

I grinned widely. The monkeys in my brain started to open champagne bottles. Fireworks went off in my head.

"Mon cheri," I slurred, "whatever did you have in mind?"

"I'll suck your cock for $100."

Somewhere, the playing arm of a record player was ripped off a record.

"Uh. What?"

She repeated her statement, her voice hazily penetrating my muddled thoughts. Although the offer was tempting (and I mean REALLY tempting) I politely refused and offered a counter-proposal.

"Well how about I go down on you for free and we'll take it from there?"

She giggled and drew in close. She said that she'd blow my mind and such. The monkeys in my mind were going apeshit, as my moral high ground and my horny neather regions screamed at each other. However, I was not about to pay money for sex. I politely refuses a second time and asked her to leave. Gracefully, she got up and walked to the door, and blew me a kiss just before she close it. I hurried over to lock the door, in part to sleep securely and also to prevent myself from changing my mind and running after her. As I spun around and flopped on the bed, I heard a crash come from downstairs. I figured it was a bar fight.

I was so very wrong.

Moments later I heard a banging on my door and a voice announced, "OPEN UP!, POLICE!", and I knew I was in a world of shit. I opened the door and there stood 4 police officers before me. I asked them what the problem was. My answer was a pair of handcuffs and a rough trip to the back of the cop cruiser. All I could do was laugh to the cop shop.

The lot of us were taken to the station's small holding cells. As the booze started to burn off, I began to realize the scope of my situation. I was kilometers from home, in jail, with french police, facing the prospect of embarrassing myself and my family with a criminal record, and I was surround by 30 of the greasiest, semi-nude bastards you've ever seen. I claimed a corner of the cell and waited for my name to be called.

Sure enough, around 4 am, I was summoned. I snapped to and was escorted down this tiny hallway into this interrogation room. I walked in and sat down and looked at the mirror directly across from me. I burst into laughter at the sheer stupidity of the situation. Suddenly, the door burst open.

Enter Bad Cop.

This tall, bearded Frenchmen stormed into the room and slammed a file down on the table. Immediately, he unleashed a tirade of threats, how I was busted, how I was going to prison, How that I'm the scum of the earth and he would not stop until I had received the harshest penalty for my crime.

I was in tears of laughter.

Meanwhile, as Bad Cop was attempting to browbeat me to death, Good Cop had entered and was surveying the scene. When Bad Cop was finished berating me, Good Cop sat down across from me and reassured me that if I cooperated, I would be seen as willing to help and would get a reduced sentence.

I slammed the table with my fist. Tears streamed freely down my face as my laughter echoed off the walls. I gasped for air and muttered back an answer.

"Dude, this is the worst case of mistaken identity ever. Ask the bartender and the hooker in my room, all I did was get a meal and drink. And to be perfectly honest, I don't appreciate you assholes hauling me out like that."

Bad Cop did not approve.

Like a lightening bolt, Bad Cop streaked behind me and slammed his hands down on my shoulders. This new stimulosus, combined with nausea and lack of sleep, made a loud rumbling in my stomach and caused me to retch.

It was the Perfect Storm.

A torrent of vomit shot out of my mouth with such speed, Good Cop couldn't even move. With the sound of a spiral doorstop being pulled back and released, I coated Good Cop with the remains of a night of drinking and eating.

Now there were two Bad Cops in the room.

As the screaming of "tabernac" began the door opened to a scene of several police officers in hysterics. The two bad cops were still screaming at me but I was taken out of the interrogation room by the others and returned to the holding cells. It was decided that I was too drunk to understand the situation fully and that I would be processed in the morning. True to their word, 5 hours later I was woken up and allowed to leave. While I was asleep, they had interviewed both the bartender and the hooker and found out I was telling the truth. I was issued a formal apology, given $20 for my inconvenience and was given a bus ticket to where ever I wanted to go. I chose Thunder Bay, but I would have taken anything that got me out of this little shithole. I bid them Adieu and took a cab to the Bus station. I hopped out, watched the taxi drive away and turned to face the bus schedule.

I was met with a fist and I got mugged.

Never go to Hearst.



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