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Community Discussion: Blog by Tehmtnlion | *NVGR* The most horrific story ever told.Destructoid
*NVGR* The most horrific story ever told. - Destructoid

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About
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

Player Profile
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Tehmtnlion's sites
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Thanks for the heads up community. No pandering. Msg received. Hope this one makes you laugh too.

In case you don't know the song Dr. Feel Good by Motley Crue, watch it first.



Trauma is something that everyone has experienced. Physical, mental, and emotional disturbances unfortunately are all too common in today's world. Children can be horrified by experiences and sights they have never had exposure to. A dead animal perhaps. Mainly, the biggest traumas are those that shatter our perspective of reality and what is normal to us. Once you've been robbed of certain pillars to your life, the very foundation of your being can crumble to nothing and there is no coming back. This, is my story.

My parents were pretty bitchin'. They listened to good music for the most part, and did everything they could to care for me. Food was always plentiful and I had a comfortable life. However, I had recently become a teenager and was feeling the first throws of rebellion and hormones. I began to do everything in my power to affirm my stance of that I was 14 and "wasn't a kid anymore" in my vain attempts to make my parents let me drink under aged at high school parties and I was supposed to wear a bucket of cologne everyday because "It'd make bitches all want my man-sauce". My dad in no way tolerated language like this, and the end result of this would lead up to me raking the yard. There was often tension in the house after I came home from school.

The fateful night that would forever scar me in ways I cannot convey into words, happened on a summer Friday night, just before school was to end for the year. Being in grade nine, My friends and I would always use Friday nights to sneak into the older kids parties and try to steal booze. Most attempts ended in stomach-punching failure. This weekend was different. I had a plan.

As my friends and I cruised around on our bikes, and made dirty comments about girls in our class and the escapades with chicks that we had "totally boned", the topic of the night's plans came up. Apparently, one of the grade nines was having a party and everyone was invited. All of us excited talked about how we would get there and worked on our alibis to tell our parents, when the topic of Liquor came up. Again, we were all too young and didn't know anyone to buy for us. This is when I made the decision that would changed my life forever.

I told the others that my parents had recently restocked the liquor cabinet and that I could make off with some of it for sure. I was immediately "The Man". High fives erupted into the sky. With promises of repayment in many forms, I bid my friends farewell as I pedaled home to conduct my mission.

I rolled up into the driveway, ever so slowly, surveying the house. My parents car was in the driveway, but they were nowhere to be seen on the property. As stealth was key, I hid my bike in the bushes and ninja'd my way towards the house. I made my way into the back yard, through the gate, and into the house through the sliding door.

Inside, I froze to drink in my surroundings. I immediately heard the opening notes from Motley Crue's "Dr Feel Good" coming from upstairs. Perfect, I thought to myself, they won't hear me at all. I slunk low to the floor and crept towards the stairs.

The liquor cabinet in my house was kept in my dad's office on the second floor at the end of the hallway that all of our bedrooms branched off from. As I ascended the top of the stairs, I turned and looked to my next challenge, silently creeping down the hall towards the office. Each step I took was like clockwork. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Sweat began to form on my forehead as the threat of being caught slipped into my mind. If i was caught, there would be major repercussions. The chorus started up.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feel good"

I was right outside of my parents door, it was open just a sliver and, holding my breath, I stepped past it. Movement briefly caught my eye.

"He's the one that makes ya feel all right"


I was 2 meters away from the door to the office. Almost there. The adrenaline made me feel strong and the fact that I had gotten this far undetected made me feel powerful. Reaching the handle I turned it and slowly opened the door.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feel good"

I slipped in quickly and shut the door behind me. I was in. My back against the door and my heart pounding against my chest, I turned and looked to my prize. The liquor cabinet, in all it's glory. Filled to the brim with as much liquor as my 14 year old mind could imagine. The sight of it made me feel like the first time I had seen Pamela Anderson on Baywatch, which made me fill out the tent in my pants. Many things were full at this point in time. Things that I was not prepared for. Dirty, dirty things.

I snapped into the moment and it was game time. Dr Feel Good was in the next verse and I had to be quick. I moved to the cabinet and flung it open and, my hands working on auto-pilot, I grabbed three 26ers. Which bottles they were I can't remember, but the promise of getting drunk was all that I cared about. Putting the bottles into my backpack, I shut the cabinet doors and turned to leave the room. Then, it all went wrong.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feel good"

Suddenly, panic set it. That line from Dr. Feel good was louder than the rest. Frozen to the ground, I strained my hearing to it's full extent and tried to assess the situation. I heard voices and footsteps. Giggling and staggered movement. My parents door had been opened! And the sounds were coming to the office door. I was trapped.

"He's the one that makes ya feel all right"

I managed to duck under my fathers desk in the nick of time. My stomach was in my throat, I had never been this terrified in all my life. I could feel my heartbeat throbbing throughout every part of my body. In my mind, I told myself that he was probably just grabbing some files and heading back to his room. But there were two voices, not one. My mother was in the room also. Motley Crue continued to float into the room.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feel good"

Not one thing in life could possibly prepare anyone for the mental rape that was about to commence on my being.

"Bill," my mother cooed, "lets do it on your desk."

Time stopped.

"He's gonna be your Frankenstein"

My father lifted my mother up and sprawled her over the desk.

"Baby, I'm going to bang you cross eyed." He responded.

The room went terribly cold.

"I've got one thing you'll understand (DR FEEL GOOD)"

The act that was literally happening inches from my head was conducted with such force, it could almost be called a domestic disturbance. Huddled under the desk, I held myself and plugged my ears in a vain attempt to block out the horror that was being perpetuated above me. Articles started to drop from the top of the desk. Pencils, a stapler, various office supplies and lastly, a picture. The portrait of my mom and dad had taken together last Christmas, My father situated behind my mother of course. Helpless, I stared into my mothers cold, aqua-blue, whorish eyes in the photo.

"He's not what you'd call a glamorous man (DR FEEL GOOD)"

Like a big war scene from a world war 2 movie, the force of the assault on my mother, was whaling the desk into the back of my head and was shaking me to my core. Their rhythm, like a giant machine gun, cutting down men in their youth, hit me with lethal precision. I prayed only that it would bludgeon me to death and I would be granted free passage into heaven for this. I had done many bad things in my life, and if there is a hell, they didn't have shit on this. As the tempo of the song built, the onslaught quickened.

"Got one thing that's easily understood (DR FEEL GOOD)"

Tears began to form freely on my cheeks as I felt like I was in a wooden coffin, being beaten by 17 people with baseball bats. The thunderous roar of my parents against the desk was matched only by the screaming that was in my head. In my mind, Motley Crue has been drowned out and was filled with a Latin Chorus from some Greek tragedy, shrieking the torment of my situation in a dead language, along with a sound that could only be described as 1000 cats in heat being pushed into a meat grinder simultaneously.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feelgood Oh yeah!"

Suddenly, my parents groaned in unison and the desk would have shot forward about a foot, had not my head been there to received the hit. The swift deathblow I had been praying for had come (no pun intended) and I was released from the situation. Everything went black.

The first thing I saw when I woke up was the portrait of my mother and father. Screaming in hysterics, I kicked it away and tried to burrow further under the desk. I had mentally snapped. I wretched my way out from underneath the desk and staggered to my feet. The aftermath of the act was catastrophic. The desk has been moved 2 feet from it's original position and my father's personal effects where strewn all over the room. It reminded me vaguely of the scene of a bear attack I saw on the news earlier. Still screaming, I jerked my way over to the door and out into the hall. I felt a squish under my foot.

I had stepped on the condom.

I cannot describe the amount of vomit that punished the bathroom seconds later. I had curled up beside the toilet and purged my stomach again and again. Slowly, I was regaining my thought process. What do I do now? Do I call the police to report a rape? Do I burn down the house, with myself in it? I was at a loss at what to do. As I threw up again, the lack of oxygen cause me to black out for a second time.

This time when I regained consciousness, I was on my friend Dylan's couch. I immediately started screaming and trying to claw my way off the couch and away from my friends. They circled around me and held me down. I reacted like I have having a 'Nam flashback.

"NO! NO! NO!" I screeched, flailing wildly. "THERE'S CHARLIES IN THE TREES!!!"

The next 15 minutes were spent calming me down. When I was coherent again, I was wrapped in a blanket, clutching a bucket between my legs, myself hunched over it. My friends then told me how they had found me.

Apparently, they spotted me 2 blocks from my house. My shirt was covered in vomit, I had my backpack held by one hand, dragging behind me and I was wandering aimlessly through traffic, crying and shouting obscenities. They grabbed me and took me to Dylan's house and proceeded to clean me up. They assured me that the booze was safe. I didn't care. Nothing mattered to me anymore. My world had been shattered. I reached into my backpack and started to drink heavily.

An hour later, we were at the party. I was in a drunken stupor at this point. I had no inhibitions. On the way up to the front door, I stopped and pissed on one of the many cars in the driveway. Swaying, I looked around the front yard and saw many couples in various states of debauchery. My stomach filled with rage. Finishing my business, I followed suit with my friends and entered the house.

The party was in full swing. Drunk minors were everywhere. Music was blared and drinks were being consumed at an alarming rate. My friends had all abandoned me at this point and were off trying to get laid. I decided to sit on the couch sullenly, nursing my bottle of vodka. Suddenly, someone fell onto the couch beside me. It was Sheanna Dristol. One of the hottest girls in my grade and I had liked her all year.

"Hey, you're pretty cute, wanna make out?" she drunkenly inquired. This was the first time since the Incident that I wasn't thinking of it.

"Fucking right!" I slurred back.

As I moved towards her, the track changed on the Cd player. I made the embrace with Sheanna, our lips locked, our tongues flailed, I felt release from the trauma that had destroyed me hours earlier. I felt as if things would be alright and I would recover. As I leaned back to catch my breath and take another drink of vodka, I looked into her eyes.

Her strangely familiar, aqua-blue eyes.

The Cd player locked the next Cd into place and started the random track.

"He's the one they call Dr. Feel good."

Memories came flooding back. I breathed in deeply, ready to vomit and just as I opened my mouth to let loose the fury, Sheanna Dristol shoved her tongue in my mouth.

Sheanna Dristol never spoke to me again.



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