hot  /  reviews  /  videos  /  cblogs  /  qposts


Tehmtnlion's blog

9:09 PM on 01.18.2009

*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 6

As promised, here's part 6!


The footsteps continued a few seconds after we had stopped, just as before. But the flash light didn't reveal any shadowy figure in pursuit. What it did show was an impossibility. Along the side of the trail, there were ferns and long grass, over growing the boundaries of the path. As the steps proceeded along the trail, the grass was being trodden down upon! I couldn't believe my eyes, I looked back at the group, and knew from their faces they had all seen it. I needed to be sure.

I walked up slowly to the spot where I had seen the act. I looked down. The grass and ferns had been stepped on, their blades imprinted in the center of a barefoot, human footprint. The rest of the group crowded around and looked. I traced the tracks back. 5 meters, 10 meters, 20 meters. They were there the entire way. I turned around and confronted Mr. Lobos.

"Fuck this," I stated, "I'm leaving."

"Alright, Luke," he replied, "You head back, we'll see you at the van when we're done."

That son of a bitch. He was not going to break. He was determined to finish his walk and I was too chickenshit to walk back to the van by myself. I ceded to his will and retook my position at the back of the line. We continued on.

I tried to ignore the continuous footsteps behind me. Whatever it was, it was keeping it's distance, and that was fine by me. The Bush was becoming more alive now. Every 20 feet we heard things. Twigs snap, voices murmur, leaves rustling as if someone was hiding in the bushes. We even began to see dark shapes moving between the trees, but only for a moment. It was gross. Phil now started to claim he was hearing something. He said it sounded like two feet, low to the ground and fast, whatever it was. No one else heard this thing and soldiered on each time.

We reached the campsite after about an hour of this stop and go routine. Once I saw the moon's reflection on the water through the trees, I ran ahead of the group and burst onto the campsite. As I was again drenched in the moonlight, my fear was washed away. I found it easier to breathe, my confidence was restored. The group emulated these feelings. Setting our walking stick down, we started to build a fire and I was more than happy to help.

It didn't take long for us to get a roaring fire. The flames lit the campsite, it's light licking the treetops around us, pushing back the encroaching darkness. We had claimed this spot, It became out out post of safety. As we sat conversation turned as to explain what had happened. this didn't last long, we were at a loss. Conversation then went to small talk and school rumours. Then to other things. It was around the same time that the Paris Hilton sex tape had come out ad we laughed about it, our past experience with the paranormal forgotten. The Bush, it seemed, took offense.

I was in mid sentence when I was interrupted by the Coyotes. Upon hearing them, I was immediately silent and turned to face the river. The wails came from the other side. I turned to Mr. Lobos. He reassured us that there wasn't a crossing for several kilometers in both directions and we were safe. However, we all remembered the story. We were dreading what was supposed to happen next. We waited in silence, the coyotes still with us, howling. Erica broke the silence.

"So do you think it's going to happen?"

The entire group looked at her astonished. Phil spoke first.

"Why the fuck would you say that? Seriously, why the fu-,"

The coyotes stopped. No one spoke. I got to my feet. I strained my hearing to it's fullest and analyzed every sound I heard. The river babbled to me. The breeze whispered to me. The fire cackled at me. My body screamed at me. But there was no little girl's scream. The coyotes began to sing to us again.

We all breathed a huge sigh of relief. I began to laugh, we all did. I faced Erica.

"Hahaha, you bitch," I joked, "I swear if after you mentioned the little girl screaming and if it had actually happened, I was goi-"

The loudest, scariest most blood-curdling scream I have ever heard in my life then erupted from deep within the bush, up on Upper Trail. I stood there with my jaw dropped in disbelief. There was nothing but the quiet air around us now, the coyotes silent. The whole group has frozen in their stances, each of them looking terrified, even Mr. Lobos.

"That's never happened before," He quietly remarked.

I looked each of my friends in the eye. They all glared at me like I was some kind of traitor, guilty of high treason. I had joking mentioned the girl last before the scream. I'm sure if anyone was killed that night, I would be accused of being the murderer. Mr. Lobos made us all jump by pouring water on the fire. It hissed as it's light was extinguished.

"We'll wait here for a few minutes until everyone's eyes have adjusted to the dark again," he said, "Then we're continuing on up Upper Trail."

We all began to disagree. Each of us didn't want to go near Upper Trail, not after hearing that fucked up scream. We all begged him to turn around and to lead us back through Lower Trail, but he would break. He stood at the entrance of Upper Trail and told us to get our walking sticks and to line up. We bitterly complied.

Up we went, the ascent was easier than the drop of Lower Trail. Like a snake, the path weaved up the hill and finally plateaued. Before, the Bush just seemed like a dark forest with a bit of mystery. Now, It seemed like the deepest reaches of hell. The trees around us were warped and misshapen. The air was thick with the damp smell of moss and rotting wood. Everywhere I looked, it seemed like something was ducking behind a tree or a rock, as if I had looked just in time to catch a glimpse. I'm sure most of it was my mind playing tricks on my, but it was the one or two times where I was sure I had seen something move that bothered me the most.

The moon then decided to betray us. Clouds had rolled in and were blocking it's light. Even though the tree canopy blocked out the majority of it, there was still some that shone through. It was a demoralizing thing to see. As the main cloud front moved in, closing out the light, a wall of darkness shot towards us and swallowed us whole. I shuddered. Mr. Lobos then turned to us and said to stick to the left. The ride side of the path bordered the edge of the hill side. We all obeyed.

The walk continued on, and things got worse. As we stopped for a moment to catch our breath, A beat started. The sound of someone taking two sticks and hitting them together in a pattern.


We stood and listened, trying to locate the direction of the sound.


The sound seemed to be all around us.


Katie and Erica huddled together with Shawn and Phil. Mr. Lobos and I stood on either side of the group, with our walking sticks held like clubs.


Mr. Lobos told me to give him my walking stick. I gingerly handed it to him. He then proceeded to mimic the pattern. The answer was immediate. But now it was closer.


Mr. Lobos did it again. The Bush Called back, still closer.


I then heard something, shuffling through the underbrush behind us. It sounded like two feet, low to the ground, and it was quick. I turned to the sound.


"Mr. Lobos," I whispered, "there's something behind us."


Mr. Lobos then did something I, still to this day, can't understand. Setting the walking sticks down, he walked to the edge of the hill and started to clap his hands, four times quickly.

"Me," was all he said. The sticks and the two foot sound stopped. I looked to Mr. Lobos.

"There, that's taken care of. Let's go."

The group quickly fell into line, while I just stood there in awe of this man. I had no idea of what to think. I had to say something.

"Well what the fuck is next?" I said, grasping for anything to say, "Are you going to show us a dead body?"

"No," He replied, "I'm taking you to the shack."   read

12:51 PM on 01.18.2009

*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 5

Since it's a lazy Sunday, if enough people want me to, I'll post the next part later tonight.
If there's at least, lets say, 30 comments, I'll let you see the next part later tonight! No spamming though! But for now, the continuation. Enjoy!


Watching Mr. Lobos walk towards the entrance of the bush made us all scramble to our feet. None of us wanted to go int there, but at the same time, no one wanted to be away from Mr. Lobos. Thankfully he heard us coming and stopped.

"Right," he said, "Remember, we're going in single file. I'll lead of course..."-he pointed at me-"...and you'll take caboose, Luke."

With the realization of what he meant by caboose, my brain felt like it was melting. Thousands of scenarios of a messy end raced through my mind. I tried to argue the fact, but Mr. Lobos ended my dissent by posing a good argument. I was the largest person there, other than himself and I was the ringleader of the group. He said that it would make the group feel safer if I took up the rear. I begged to differ. It was all I could do to not cry in terror. Reluctantly, I accepted my fate and headed to the back of the line. The one plus to this position was that Mr. Lobos had passed me a red-gelled flashlight from his coat. I kept it close to my chest, holding it like a rifle.

Mr. Lobos returned to the front of the line and ordered everyone to grab a hold of the person ahead of them. The final line up was Mr. Lobos, Shawn, Erica, Katie, Phil and lastly, myself. We started forward, marching to the entrance of lower trail. Tree's lined the trail towards it, the sky still visible above us. As we closed the last few meters to the entrances, I glanced ahead. The row of trees on either side links their branches together to block out the stars and the moonlight. A white sign was nailed to one of the trees. Past that, it was like there was a wall of black paint, you couldn't see down into the trail. Mr. Lobos walked into the darkness and disappeared, the other following him, a step behind. I gulped as Phil walked into the darkness and watched as my arm was enveloped into the night.

I had entered the Bush.

A force seemed to close in on my lung just as the darkness had swallowed me up. I tried to think calming thoughts, but It was all I could do from keeping my eyes in my head. I was looking all over the place for as much good as it did me. My eyes needed to adjust. Until then, I would have to try to keep up with the group, stumbling in the dark. I then began to wonder how Mr. Lobos could be able to travel this void with no lights. My mind attributed it to the fact that he claimed to have been out here many times before and knew the terrain. I don't know why, but that thought comforted me. We continued to walk.

After about 5 minutes My eyes had fully adjusted. I have extremely good night vision, I'm actually a product of evolution. When I was 9 I had an eye exam that revealed the fact that I have a silvery filament in my eye that, at night, allows me to pick up light far better than a normal person. Up to 80% better vision and focus I was told. I was thankful for it now. I could now see about 15 feet away from me. Even so, I still had no depth perception. Every time I stumbled, it looked like puffs of black smoke erupted around us, my eyes losing their focus.

The trail was a tunnel of darkness for the first 10 minutes. We stopped a few times along the way, pausing to hear what my friends had detected. Nothing made it apparent. I was starting to think that Mr. Lobos was just getting kicks out of taking a bunch of students out and scaring them, but I kept my suspicions to myself.

A few minutes after that, we came to a rise in the trail, a small hill. We passed it and entered a clearing. It was just as he described it in his story. Mr Lobos stopped the group.

"Let's wait and see if he comes tonight," Mr. Lobos said gravely.

My heart rate began to climb I turned around. If there was a twig about to snap, I wanted to see if he he friends out here, I was still unconvinced other wise. We waited.

And waited.

And waited.


The fear that I had felt earlier was quickly starting to dissipate. It was all a ruse. Mr. Lobos was screwing with us. I was about to confront him, but he spoke to soon.

"It seems like we won't be seeing him here tonight. Lets keep moving."

Phil turned back to me.

"Dude, he had me convinced that this place was actually haunted," he scoffed, "I'll still have to check for skid marks when we get home though, that story had me going!"

"Yeah, no doubt," I replied, "At least we got a good story out of it."

We jogged to rejoin the group before it re-enter the trail.

The sound of water was the next influence of note. As we walked away from the clearing, I began to hear the sounds of the Nine Mile River. I looked to my left, catching glimpses of the moonlight reflecting off the river's water through the trees. Mr/ Lobos told us to be careful. Up ahead the trail took a steep descent and paralleled the river's banks. It was here when Katie stopped the group for the first time.

"Stop!" she hissed, "I see something. Ten 'o' clock, low.

I looked to my left and down. I didn't see anything at first, the tree trunks crisscrossed to block my view, but the murmurs of my friends told me that something was there. I crouched and moved my body from side to side. There was a light.

It looked to be about the size of a Toonie. It glowed like a cigar ember, vividly orange, but it wasn't stationary. It moved and swayed in the air; aimlessly. We stared for about 5 minutes, until I decided to break the silence. I shouted out hello, my voice echoing through the wood.

It stopped dead in the air for a few seconds and then dropped, disappearing from view.

Phil and I exchanged a quick glance. Mr. Lobos chuckled.

"Let's keep it going."

The trail down the hill was indeed steep. Several times, my feet slipped out from under me and I had to scramble to recover my balance. I was not the only one who had to. Only Mr. Lobos seemed to be immune to the gravity of the situation. Finally the ground leveled out.

The same routine played out. We would walk and stop. Walk, and stop. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. One time, it did sound like there were dozens of small animals that were surrounding us, but with that many leaves on the ground, it could have been Night Crawlers that were making the noise.

However, circumstances would soon remove me of logical explanations.

I had been ignoring a lot of sounds I had been hearing since we had entered. I'd been interested in nature since I was a kid and knew many of natures noises. Since our last stop, however, I was starting to hear something out of the ordinary, something too organized. I thought I was hearing footsteps behind us. Each time that we would stop, the footsteps would stop a few seconds after, as if they were trying to match our pace. I told M. Lobos this and my suspicions of him having a friend follow us to scare us. His answer was blunt.

"Catch him with your flashlight, prove me wrong."

I took the flashlight and held it at the ready. I was going to be good and sure that when I did expose Mr. Lobos friend, I'd catch him before he could run. I waited. The footsteps sounded close, but they needed to be closer. after five minutes, I had what I asked for. The trail rounded a bend and dropped lower. I heard the footsteps heavy on the drop. Ripping the gel off the flashlight, I whipped around and flashed the light directly where the sound was coming from.

My jaw dropped at what I saw.   read

2:13 PM on 01.17.2009

*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 4

Alright here's the continuation of my little tale. Hope you guys like it. The previous parts are linked in my profile ------>


Mr Lobos turned to face the group.

"When we got home, no one wanted to talk about what happened. We said nervous goodbyes and went to our homes. I didn't sleep that night. The following week went by in a blur. We saw each other but each time we mostly sat in silence. Towards the end of the week however, our curiosity began to grow, we talked about the experience more and more and decided that we had to go back.

"A week later returned. As the time before, we parked in the same place and made sure that everything was locked. My brother had begrudgingly agreed to come along as well. Again we walked down into the gully and along lower trail. As we approached the clearing, we stopped for a moment and agreed that we would push through and go in deeper. We surmounted the crest of the hill and looked into the clearing. The flashlights went out again. For a second, we paused. As if on cue the twig snapped behind us, but instead of halting our progress, it spurred us on. We quickly crossed the void and walked through. The temperature seemed to drop, but as we reached the other end of the clearing, the flashlights burst into life and shone on. We continued.

"The bush around us seemed to become energized by our presence. Each tree looked tormented. The wind seemed to call at us , beckoning us to continue. As we walked along, the group stopped at the slightest sound. Each time a new noise seemed to call out. Twigs snapped. Tree's groaned. At one point, my friend at the back of the line was convinced that there was someone following us, but when we checked with the flashlights, there was no one.

"After about 50 minutes of this, we stumbled upon the campsite marked on our map. It sat beside the Nine Mile River and had some comforts. There was a fire pit , picnic table and only two ways in, the trail we entered on and the continuation of the trail on the far side. There were no trees along the side that bordered the river. We could look up at the stars and see the moon. The river was wide, the opposite bank was filled with an unbroken treeline. An almost identical treeline was drawn along the other side of the campsite, a wall between us and the unknown bush. Quickly we built a fire in the pit and began to talk about nothing, breaking our tension. We began to feel at ease, safe even, our laughter echoing across the river. After about 20 minutes, The Bush called back to us.

"On the other side of the river, the wails of coyotes began to drift across to our camp. We grew quiet as their whelps cried into the sky. The sound was beautiful, something that we had never heard safe in our homes and modern towns. We sat in silence as we listened to this song of the wild and marveled that in this demented wood, there was still something majestic; something pretty.

"Suddenly, the howling stopped. Silence followed their chorus of song.

"We sat, our senses on edge. Something had made them stopped. Our minds strained as we tried to think of what could do that. It was then when we heard a sound.

"It came in slowly at first. A shrilly high-pitched sound. It blew in with the wind. It was a little girls scream. My blood felt like it froze in my veins. It seemed to come from deep within the bush, but the wind carried it around us. It was one of the freakiest things I'd ever heard. I looked to my friends and our decision to leave was unanimous. Dousing the fire with water from the river, we lined up and headed along the trail, not looking back.

"The trail seemed to start climbing uphill almost immediately. The zeal we had earlier in the day to return to the bush was completely gone. All we wanted was to get out, but I felt compelled to exit out Upper trail than to just turn tail and head back out the way we came. And who knows, He may be waiting there for us. I shook the idea from my mind.

"As we walked, the bush seemed to go silent, as if someone had some kind of all powerful switch that controlled all the sounds of life and nature in the bush and had turned it off. Our hasty footsteps and our heavy breathing were the only sounds that we heard; other than our hearts, pounding in our chests. The trail became much narrower and we had to slow down. It was beginning to border the edge of the slope. Several times we stopped to survey the angle in which the hill dropped. Needless to say, one false move and it may have been our last.

"40 minutes had passed without much cause to stop, other than our own limits. As we came to an opening, we paused to catch our breath. For some reason, I took the map out from my pocket and shone my flashlight on it. If I was right, there was a shack near by to our left, further up the hill, but off the trail. I don't know why, but I had to see it. As we started off again, I kept the group in line and walked slowly, sweeping my flashlight up into the treeline. After 10 minutes, I found what I was looking for. A small path, wide enough for single file, winding up the hillside. I convinced the group to follow me and I started up it.

"As soon as I had taken a few steps up the slope, the flashlights beam unveiled the shack that was on the map. It was broken down, one of the walls had caved in and the roof was falling down. When we got close enough, I saw that slightly behind the shack, a walled off semi-circle of benches had been built. They didn't look as old as the shack however. I felt uneasy about being here, but my legs needed a rest. The group concurred. We sat down on the benches.

"We sat in silence at first, straining to hear anything, both of the flashlights turned off. All we heard was the wind caressing the trees around us, however. After something like 10 minutes, we started to talk about nothing really, but it broke the tension. As the conversation grew, our voices grew louder, ourselves getting bolder, feeling more comfortable than we had ever been while in this strange place. Occasionally I would hear something above us in the trees, but when I looked up, I dismissed it as the wind moving the treetops together. I don't know why, but for some reason, I decided to check on my brother. I looked over to him.

"He was sitting beside me in the semi-circle. Even though there was no light, my eyes had adjusted to the dark enough so that I could see his silhouette; I could make out his face, his arms, legs, etc. He was looking straight up into the tree tops, his jaw dropped. He wasn't moving at all. I tried to follow his eyes, but I couldn't see anything in the trees, I just heard some branches creaking in the wind. I moved closer to my brother and said his name. When he didn't respond, I grabbed his arm.

"The resulting shriek of terror made me fall back off the bench. The group also cried out in surprise, clumsily turning their flashlights on. In the rays that burst out, I saw my brothers form leap up from his seat and bolt down towards Upper trail. I rose up off my back and climbed over the bench to catch him, but I was in luck. He tripped over a root and fell to his knees, allowing us to catch him. My friends swarmed him and held him from running off. I looked back up into the trees, but my brothers cries for us to leave made me lead the way back down to Upper trail.

"For a second time, my brother's fear had infected all of us. Terrified, we ran through the last of the trail, encountering two wooden bridges along the way. The trail seemed to level off and widen as we ran, I knew we had to be close to getting out. Finally, we came around a corner in the trail and ran into a long corridor of tree trunks with the moonlight hill at the end of it. There was the way out. Invigorated by the sight, we sprinted for the exit. That's when the Bush seemed to come alive.

"A wind began to blow against us, it came from the exit. It was like it was trying to blow us back in. The closer we got to the exit, the stronger the wind got. Leaves and twigs blew past us and into our faces. Tree limbs swayed, swinging close to our heads, making us duck. The ground itself seemed to coarse and ebb with the force of the winds, the fallen leaves blowing up from their resting places. As I came within a few feet of the exit, I began to yell, as if to let the bush know that I had escaped it.

"But the Bush yelled back.

"As we burst out onto the field, a sound roared from the center of the bush. As I had mused earlier about an all powerful switch controlling the sounds of the bush, It was like it was suddenly flipped on. Howls of all types shrieked into the air. Birds screamed and cawed in unison. Voices seemed to speak in gobbledygook; laughing and taunting us. Screams seems to emanate from every tree and plant. We ran. We just kept running. We ran all the way down the field to the oak tree and that's when the sound finally stopped, the switch turned back to off. It didn't matter, we kept on going towards the car. The sight that greeted us made us stop dead in our tracks.

"All the doors were open. The trunk was open and the hood was up. Everything inside the car was gone."

Mr Lobos cleared his throat and drank from a water bottle that he had produced from his trench coat.

"And that all happened in this bush."

The group exchanged looks of abject horror. I tried to tell Mr Lobos that I was not going in there, but I couldn't find my voice. Shawn spoke before I could.

"What did your brother see?"

Upon hearing Shawn's inquiry, Mr Lobos took a deep breath, his frame expanding as his lungs filled. He turned to face Shawn.

"I don't know. But lets get moving."

He spun around and started into the Bush.   read

11:33 AM on 01.16.2009

*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 3

Now for the third installment,. Check out part 1 and part 2 if you haven't already.


Mr. Lobos began to tell us the tale of his first time out there.

"I'd gone to the will reading of my grandfather and had been given my ultimatum. I thought it was kind of silly, but I decided to see to it that his wishes would be fulfilled. So, that night, I rounded up a group of my friends and drove out to the bush. My contingent comprised of a few friends and my brother.

"Following a map that was given to me at the will reading, we drove out and parked out front of the bush, not in the hidden parking spot. As we piled out of the car, I checked over the gear that we had brought. Two flashlights, each with the bulb covered with a red gel, so it would only shine out in red light. That was important because the red light would not destroy our night vision. We got into a single file line, myself in the lead and my brother in the back. We, like you just did, walked down into the gully and to this tree. The map that lead us here also had a map of the trails in the bush. Looking at it, we decided to enter on Lower Trail.

"As we walked in, the bush itself seemed to breath around us. There was no real wind, none of the tree tops were swaying, but leaves and branches seemed to move around us. a few times we stopped when we thought we heard something, but even with our flashlights, we couldn't pinpoint where the sound was or what was making it.

"We had been walking into the bush for about 10 minutes when we came to a rise in the trail which dropped down into a clearing. The clearing itself was about 10 meters long and about 4 meters at it's widest. The canopy opened up and allowed the moonlight to pour in and wash over the trail. When we walked over the hill and to the entrance of the clearing, the flashlights went out. I took my flashlight and hit it against my hand a few times, only getting a few flickers of light as a result. It was dead. I stopped the group and found out the same had happened with the second flashlight in the back. I wasn't immediately concerned because the moonlight lit the trail well enough to get through. Suddenly, we heard a twig snap behind us. We all turned to the sound. I said hello into the darkness.

"Silence was all answered back. I turned back to clearing and gasped.

"There was a figure standing at the opposite end.

"It was a man. Very tall.and slender. He stood with his hands at his sides and with his head hanging down. He was completely clad in white. White pants, shirt and what looked to be a white labcoat. Eerily, his skin matched the paleness of his attire.

"The rest of the group had by this time turned back and noticed the man. Whispers and muttered swearwords hit my ears from behind. I didn't move an inch. I stood there and stared at the man in the labcoat. No one moved for about 3 minutes. I finally found my legs and took a step forward to confront the mysterious man.

'I said 'hello'.

"No response.

"I asked 'Who are you?'

"No response.

"I then took another step forward. The moment my foot touched the ground, we heard another twig snap behind us, closer this time. Reflex commanded us to orient on this new stimulus. Nothing was there. We turned back.

"The labcoat guy was now standing in the center of the clearing.

"We scurried back a few meters. There was no way that man could have moved that quickly! There were no footsteps or russeling of underbrush to be heard. Something definitely was not right here. In a show of bravery, I stomped a few steps closure to the labcoat guy. This time I yelled.


"The man didn't move. A scream behind me nearly scared me to death.

"My brother was screaming and had fallen, trying to scramble away from us. My friends were terrified for a moment, but rushed to grab a hold of him. It was the last thing we needed to chase a frighten man through a pitch black forest. Especially when we're confronted by a labcoat-wearing stranger. I started to run towards my brother but when I saw that my friends had him, I turned back to see what our mysterious stranger was up to.

"I was not prepared for what I saw.

"As I turned back to face the man, be began to raise his pale, bald head. The moonlight was caught by the whiteness of his skin and seemed to glow. The man had two beady, black eyes, almost directly in the center of his forehead, close together. The only other feature on this man's face was a thin, black line that started at his left temple, dipped down around the bottom of his face and looped back up to his right temple.

"I covered my mouth and groaned.

"The man grinned. The black line was his mouth! Slowly the line split apart and revealed jagged and blackened teeth, spanning the entire length of his misshaped mouth. It's head then tilted to the side. I took a step back, unable to believe what I was seeing. It then started to walk towards me. But it moved so strangely, like a sequence filmed in reverse and then played forward, the labcoat guy jerked towards me, unnaturally, without a sound, his eyes staring into me. I froze. I then witnessed something that i'll never be able to explain.

"The labcoat guy stopped, turned profile and then bent over. But not at the waist. The thing bent at its chest and then folded down in on itself, morphing into a white wolf. Looking at me briefly, the wolf then ran off the trail and into the bush.

"The flashlights flickered back on.

"Not wasting a second our group got to its feet and ran out of the bush, tearing the red gels off the flashlights. Panic gripped us as we navigated the twists and turns in the trail. Finally after what seemed like forever, we emerged from lower trail and ran towards the oak tree. The group, encouraged by the sight of this landmark, ran faster toward the road and to the car. We started to climb the slope back to the road when I slipped and slid down the gully. As I came to a stop, I looked up and saw my friends all standing, their backs to me. Why had they stopped? Getting to my feet, I climbed up the hill to see what had made them stop.

"It was the car. When we had entered the bush, I had made sure that I locked the car. I knew that the chances of anyone coming out here to rob my car would be slim, but it was force of habit. However, that didn't seem to matter. All the doors where open. The trunk was open, the hood was up and everything that was inside of the car was gone. Backpacks, the spare tire, a case of beer, even some wrappers that where on the floor were gone. We didn't care. We all rushed towards the car and got in. Slamming my foot on the gas, we tore out from the shoulder and shot back home. We interrogated my brother as to what happened. His response was unsettling.

"I asked him what had happened out there. He looked very apprehensive, but answered me. He told me that when I had yelled at the thing, whatever it was, that thing had said his name. And when he heard his name, he just felt so terrified, so afraid. He just had to get away from it.

"The entire ride home occurred in silence. No one had heard anyone's name being said."

It was here when Mr Lobos stood up and stretched. I looked around at my friends. All of them hadn't take their eyes off of him. I looked back at him too. As he stretched all his limbs he crouched back down and looked at me. He was about to continue with his story. He turned his head and looked down towards the beginning of Lower Trail.

"Now here's where it gets interesting"   read

11:16 AM on 01.15.2009

*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 2

For part one, click here. This video will help set the mood.


And now we jump back in where we left off.

As I took off the Blindfold, the site that greeted me, took me by surprise. We had parked in a grove of wicked looking trees that flanked the entrance to a field that was high with corn. It was straight out of a movie. The full moon was directly ahead of us, still steeped in a deep orange colour. The stars were out in full force, completely visible as there where no major urban centers around to blot them out. It was hauntingly beautiful. The others made similar noises of awe as they took our blindfolds off. Mr. Lobos opened his door and exited the van. I took of my seat belt and followed suit.

The entire group was standing around the van. The temperature had dropped a few degrees and the chill in the air bit into us. I zipped up my sweater and shivered, my breath fogging as I exhaled. I decided to walk around the car and investigate. I looked into the cornfield, stared up at the moon and walked back to the road. Looking both ways, I tried to spot some form of civilization. A yard light, car headlights, anything.


Mr. Lobos made me jump as he stood beside me and spoke.

"I'm sorry for the scare show," he said, "but I can't let you know how to get here with out me."

He then turned to me and looked me in the eyes.

"You wouldn't be safe."

He said that phrase with such certainty, I immediately believed him and hurried over to my friends. Mr. Lobos walked over and stood before us. He explained that we couldn't know the route to the place, it was his secret and it had to stay that way. He went on to describe that this was not "The Bush" but a parking spot to keep the car hidden from passers by. The group exchanged concerned looks at this last statement. He then walked towards the road and beckoned us to follow. As we fell into a group led by Mr. Lobos, I could feel my senses drinking in the environment like never before. I don't know if it was the night air or just because I was afraid, but I was very aware of my surroundings. I could smell the dampness of the grass, I could hear cars far away on the highway. The full moon lit the area and I could see everywhere, but in this, the shadows that formed in it's moonlight began to play tricks on my mind.

We eventually came to a T-junction and turned right. In front of us, there was a huge teeming forest. The trees looked to be hundreds of years old. Mr Lobos produced a single flashlight, clicked it on and swept it along the tree line. He uncovered a walkway down into a grove. Telling us to keep close, we turned off the road and descended into the dark wood.

(Here is a overview of the area I made with my elite paint skills. I'll include it with the next few post so you'll know where I'm talking about.)

As we progressed down the slope, the trees pulled back and we emerge into a field on a hill, with trees surrounding the outside of it. At the bottom of the hill, directly in front of us, there was a Huge Oak tree, encircled with large rocks. As we approached the tree, Mr Lobos told us to sit down and wait. The group obeyed. As I sat down on one of the rocks, I experienced one of the grossest sensations ever. I truly felt like I was watched by something close, and that it was not friendly. Mr. Lobos started to walk into the trees, not saying a word , and disappeared from sight.

The group broke into whispers.

"What the fuck is he doing?", Erica asked. "He brings us out here and just fucks off?"

"I don't know about the rest of you," Phil said, "but I'm really not liking this situation."

"I know what you mean," I added, "Does anyone else feel like they're being...watched?"

"Shit," Katie said, "He's back."

Mr. Lobos had emerged from the trees. He held 6 walking sticks, one for each of us. He handed them out immediately as he reached us and sat down in silence. Now with a potential weapon in my hands, I felt a bit more at ease. Should Mr Lobos try anything, it's be stupid of him as he had just armed us. Mr. Lobos was apparently thinking the same thing. He began to speak in a hushed tone and spoke very slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable. His irregular pauses made me uncomfortable.

"I've given you, each, a walking stick." He said, "This, is mainly to make the walk, easier on you. Partly to defend yourselves, if need be. The trails, in here, are not completely finished, and there will be lots of slopes and hills, a couple muddy sections too."

He turned and pointed down the trail.

"Down there is the start, it's known as, 'Lower Trail' , that's because it drops down, along side of the Nine Mile River and takes us, to our halfway point, the campsite. That's where we'll take a break, for a bit, regroup and head out on 'Upper Trail'. Again it's called that, because it goes up the hill."

He turned again, this time to face the field behind us.

"On the other side of that hill, is the exit of upper trail. When we emerge out of there, we will cross the field, and stop here before we head back to the car. Any questions?

The group remained silent. A slight breeze blew in through the trees.

"Alright," he continued, "Now, the reason why you are here, is to observe. I want you to look, to listen, and to smell. You'll need to look with your peripheral vision, since it's so dark. Believe it or not there it a hole in the center of your eye, and this will make you miss things. When ever you see of hear something, say 'stop', audibly, but not loudly and then alert us to the direction, of where the thing is. Most importantly, if you get scared, do not, do NOT, run away. I can't protect you if you're not with me."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I was into something that was way over my head. Mr. Lobos continued.

"There's something in this bush. I'm not certain what it is, but it watches us. Some of the things you may hear are the sounds of dozens of small animals surrounding you, footsteps, drumbeats, voices, all sorts of strange things. You'll see lights and silhouette. Keep a sharp eye though, since it's dark in there, your mind will play tricks on you with the shadows. When we go in, we'll be in single file, holding onto the person in front of you."

"Won't you have the flashlight on?" Shawn asked. Mr. Lobos turned to face him.

"No. You'll have to use you're night vision to the best of it's ability."

The group squirmed uneasily. Now we were going through a huge spooky bush that could be filled with all sorts of who knows what, without any flashlights? I was scared. At least there was a full moon, I thought. I began to look back towards the road, wondering how far it was to the van. Mr. Lobos cleared his throat and grabbed my attention.

"Now before we head in," he spoke, "I'm going tell you the story of the first time I came out here, the night of the will reading. This story will hopefully prepare you for what you're about to experience. It may freak you out a bit." He paused and grinned slightly, "Oh, and just so you know, the rocks you're sitting on, and throughout this whole bush, are the graves of Native Canadians."

My friends and I exchanged freaked out looks. I've read too many Stephen King books to know that Indian burial grounds are never good. A few of us moved off the rocks and onto the grass. I turned to Mr Lobos.

He breathed in deeply and began to tell his story.

To be continued...   read

1:45 PM on 01.14.2009

*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 1.

Don't read this is if you're looking for a laugh. This is the set-up for something much larger. I'm breaking it up because To write it all at once would be fail.. Again, don't read this unless you're interested in the slightest.

I'm known on here so far as a writer of funny, over the top, silly-bastard stories. It's funny really, that I only just recently started to write as a recommendation from a doctor of mine to help relieve stress. And It's done wonders. The feeling of creating a work of art is pretty fucking bitchin. Plus the comments make me feel good lol. But as I have discovered I have this talent, I want to experiment and deviate from my usual story fare. In what will be in a few parts, I'm going to tell you about a true to life experience I once had that has changed my perspective on life in general. It's aiming more for suspense so bear with me. Enjoy.


When I was in high school, I had one teacher that I got a long with really well. We'll call him Mr. Lobos. Anyway, one day in his class, he came to me and asked me to see him after the period was over. In my head I tried to think of what I may have done to deserve a candid talk with him. I had handed in all of my assignments, I was on time everyday that week, I couldn't figure it out. I would soon learn why.

As the lunch bell rang, I stayed behind the group and waited . He stood by the door until the last student had left, and turned to me. His hand still on the door knob, he locked the door, and sat down at his desk.

He then began to tell me story in great detail. To sum it up, apparently 20 years ago, his grandfather had died, leaving him a plot of land in the will. It was a tract of bush that had trails all through it and a campsite. Mr. Lobos was more than pleased to hear that he had received this inheritance. However, there was a clause in the will that gave him some discomfort. For him to claim the property, he would have to go to the bush that very night and walk through it with a group of friends after dark. A strange request indeed, but Mr. Lobos was keen to honour his dead grandfather's wishes. Since then, he told me, he's taken students out there. At night. And they would hear things and see stuff that didn't add up. It wasn't normal what happened out there.. And to top it off, he pointed at me and said he wanted to take me out there that very night.

The very first thing that popped into my head was that I would be horribly anal raped and murdered, and maybe not in that particular order, if I went into a dark, spooky bush alone with this man. Although he was a trusted teacher of mine, all bets are off when someone approaches you with an offer like this. The creepy thing was that it seemed like he had dealt with students coming to this same conclusion. He chuckled slightly and told me to go get a group of my friends to come tonight so I would feel safer with numbers, and to meet him back here after school.

I slowly walked into the Students Council room and sat down. I looked around the room and decided that the group of people here were as good as any. My friends Shawn, Katie, Erica, and Phil were all sitting in the room and had their eyes on me. I began to tell them about Lobos' offer. They all immediately came to the same conclusion of anal rape as I had. But, I was now curious about this mysterious "bush" he talked about. Granted it could be a metaphor for his pubic hair, but that was a chance I was willing to take. After a few minutes I managed to convince them to join me in Lobos' room after school.

The bell rang, marking the end to another school day. I rushed straight from my last class to Lobos' room and was greeted by the rest of the group. Knocking once, we entered the room. Lobos was already there, standing, over looking his desk. It was silent as we walked in and straddled desks, sitting to hear what he had to say. He told the group essentially what he had told me. As I glanced around, I could see the curiosity growing in the faces of my comrades. They were in. Lobos noticed this too and grinned. He then told us to meet him at the rear parking lot at dusk.

9'o'clock had rolled around and the sun was all but set. Our group sat on the cement steps leading up to the rear entrance to the high school from the student parking lot. We had been waiting here for a half-hour and had not seen nor heard of Lobos. Attempts at breaking the silence all ended in failure. Everybody was too tense, thinking about what was about to happen. I surveyed the horizon, the sun now had disappeared behind the buildings, the sky cast upon with a blood red colour. The moon was now rising opposite of the sunset, it was full and had caught the light of the dying sun. It was a deep shade of orange. The sight itself gave me chills. I suddenly heard the screech of tires and snapped my head to the sound.

A minivan had just tore into the parking lot, spraying an arc of gravel as it drifted around the corner. It fishtailed slightly and then set it headlights directly on us, the engine roared as it accelerated and shot forwards. Like a deer in the head lights, I froze, not knowing what to do. My friend Phil had just grabbed my sweater and was attempting to pull me out of the way, when the van hit the breaks, turned and squealed to a stop in front of us, the driver's side door directly ahead of the group. The door opened and a figure emerged. it was Lobos. He was wearing all black clothing, with a black trench coat, a black toque and black face paint under his eyes. I had flashback to my earlier thoughts of rape and murder and gulped.

"Get in" was all he said.

Regaining what little was left of my courage I was the first to approach the van. Being the instigator of this trip, I chose shotgun, allowing my friends to huddle in the back. As I opened the door, I looked in and surveyed the van. There were blindfolds on every seat. I stood back and looked to the others. They had not moved an inch. I can only assume that they were waiting to see what I did. Clearing my throat, I told them to hurry up and climbed in. I picked up the blindfold, but did not put it on yet. The others gingerly got into the van and began to question the intelligence of this decision. The blindfold pushed everyone out of their comfort zone. Lobos re-entered the van, looked at each of us, then told us to put on the blindfolds. He then turned to the wheel and started the van.

Taking a deep breath, I raised the blindfold up and tied it around my head. My heart rate began to climb.

I heard Mr. Lobos put the van into gear and felt it pull away. It felt the dip as the van pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the paved road. In my head, I tracked our position with my mental map of the area. I think we were at the town limits, heading east when I thought to ask him a question. A question that would be meet with an answer I wasn't prepared for.

"Mr Lobos," I started, my voice cracking slightly, "where are you taking us?"

"No talking"

His only response creeped me out. I then heard a click and the rising sound of static. Mr Lobos had turned the radio on and had turned it to an empty frequency. I was now effectively blind and deaf. Panic was slowly starting to well up inside of me.

We drove eastward out of town for about 20 minutes. I knew the road well and recognized dips and turns. I strained to memorize the route, just in case my initial suspicions of buggery were correct. We had been driving without stopping for a while when he suddenly began to slowdown. Thinking hard, I guessed we were at a little intersection that was the site of a small village. As we came to a stop, I tried to move my blindfold slightly, slowly raising my hand up my side. Mr Lobos must have seen me, He grabbed my arm. I barely heard him over the static.

"No peeking."

The van then turned to the left and accelerated. We drove in this new direction for a couple minutes when we then slowed, turned right, and I heard the telltale crunch of tires on gravel. I now had no clue where we were. We followed the road slowly. The road was hilly as I could feel the change in elevation several times. The van shook with the occasional pothole. I was beginning to become genuinely afraid. Finally the Van slowed again and turned right, continued for about 100 meters and then turned left. The surface beneath us sounded crunchy. We came to a complete stop and Mr. Lobos turned off the van.

"We're Here."

I took off my blindfold and gasped at the sight.

To be continued...   read

1:57 PM on 01.13.2009

A Moment of Reflection: Thoughts of Tehmtnlion

This is unrelated. I just wanted to start with a video.


In 16 days, I will be turning 22. It's not a monumental age to reach, I already can drive since i was sixteen, I bought enough porn, lottery tickets and fireworks to start my own casino when I was 18, I got oh so hammered and smoked like a chimney when I turned 19 and when I turned 21, I went and got shitfaced in the States (I was like a God, drinking weak American beer) But today I started to think about my life in terms of video games.

I got my first console when I was 8 I think. It was Christmas at my grandparents and I was about to leave and head home. This is when one of my aunts drove in and handed me a huge wrapped gift. I opened it up and beheld the Sega Genesis in front of me. I had a similar reaction to that of the Nintendo 64 kid and the Wii kid. Since that day, video games have had a huge influence in my life. I've cut class to play games before, I've put off homework and social gatherings to play my games. Final Fantasy turned me into a recluse for almost a fucking month.

In 2006, I got my first gaming PC that I've been upgrading ever since. I'm glad I chose the PC route instead of getting an Xbox360 or a PlayStation 3 or a Wii. My PC has become my major source of news, television and keeping in touch with people locally and globally. I loves my PC, I loves her so.

Over the course of my life, I've been able to see the video game industry take off. I wasn't able to appreciate the coming of the Atari and the like, But Nintendo and Sega both raised me well. It's also opened my to a group of people who I am convinced are some of the greatest people on the planets, Gamers. I think we gamers have the best sense of humour on the planets and I enjoy the camaraderie. I have never stood in silence in a line up for a release for more than 5 minutes before a full out conversation breaks loose between everyone within hearing distance. I've made new friends with the bar trip that followed up the fallout 3 releases, taking turns reading the manual and drinking every time we heard Nuclear.

That feeling of an instant connection is what lead me to this site. I had joined a few forums and other gaming sites, but none of them really offered me what I wanted. A community of gamers, where i could interact with them, laugh at them and a few times so far, get owned by them. That's one major reason why I love this site. Call it trolling in the worst cases, but I knew I would be here to stay in the first week of my joining, as i saw that idiocy and sucking would not be tolerated, but you had the chance to redeem yourself.

So, in the oncoming of my birthday, I wanted to say thank you to this community. You've made me feel welcome and have made me laugh my fucking ass off. As long as it doesn't get old, I'll keep up with the stories and I'll do my part to keep the community free of dick wads.

This is also unrelated. But I would love to rush someone dressed like an army of Visigoths

[embed]117922:16952[/embed].   read

8:27 PM on 01.11.2009

Sh3la THA G4m3r Meets Rule #1: The Chronicles of Niero

Well. I didn't want to do this. I'm already afraid of what I'm going to come up with. Sh3la THA G4m3r, don't fuck with us or this could happen.


The Cockmonger watched on her television as the BANHAMMER hit ZzFFTLzZ in the forehead, and came in her pants when he exploded into smoke and cocks. She swayed and dropped to her knees, a position she knew all to well. Usually she decided when to get on her knees, but Niero's awesomeness had been to much for her. Curses, she thought to herself, if only I could somehow destroy that bastard Niero and the D-Toid Army. Shakily, she got to her feet and stumbled over to her computer chair. She inhaled in frustration, when suddenly, her breasts shot our of her top, tearing the fabric, exposed. Her breasts had recently grown two cups sizes!

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" she screamed. She slammed her fists down on the computer desk and threw a copy of "Cocksucking for Cunts" across the room and into the closed blinds. The force of the book hit the blinds just so that it immediately rolled up and revealed two guys standing just outside her window on the sidewalk. Alerted by the sound, both guys looked over and dropped their jaws in amazement. Thinking quickly, one of them lifted his digital camera and snapped a quick tit shot. The flash blinded The Cockmonger for a moment. The duo high-fived and then turned to run away. Regaining her vision and seeing the two men fleeing, The Cockmonger snapped her fingers and appeared in front of the two men in a puff of green smoke.

Startled, the two men immediately stopped. Partly due to the shock that a woman dressed in a green super villian outfit had appeared in front of them and two because she was quiffing green smoke out of her vagina. The men began to yell.

"Who the fuck is that?!", the one called out, averting his eyes from the woman's vag. "And why the fuck is green smoke coming out of her vagina?!"

"I don't know," the other responded, "but why the fuck does it smell like dill pickle chips!?"


The pair stood there dumbfounded. They tilted their heads to face each other. The one mouthed "what the fuck" to the other. Having seen into The Cockmonger's house, the other pointed back through the window to a poster of Hello Kitty. Seeing this, the one's mouth formed an O and nodded in understanding. Both turned back to The Cockmonger. She stood there in the power stance, her hands on her hips. The one stared down at her exposed beef curtains as they flapped in the wind, unable to look away. The other spoke.

"So, if we don't tell you about Niero and such," the other began, "you're going to suck our cocks?"

"YES!", The Cockmonger responded.

The other looked confused. The one, still maintaining eye contact with The Cockmonger's vagina, was now tilting his head from side to side. The other looked to his comrade and thought he heard him mutter something along the lines of "it's like it follows you as you move" but couldn't be certain. Smacking the one against the arm ("JESUS CHRIST! Oh fuck, that was you. I thought it had telepathy!"), the other turned back to The Cockmonger.

"That's it? You're not going to bite us while you do it, or stab us in the balls when it's over?"


The one looked at the other. The other pointed back at the Hello Kitty poster and shrugged his shoulders. The one grinned.

A week later, the pair were sitting at The Cockmonger's kitchen table. Both pantless, the one sat back wearing a top hat and sunglasses, his shirt drenched with sweat. He glanced over at the other. The other had just put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, his party hat and novelty groucho mask cast asunder. Rising to her feet, The Cockmonger wiped her face clean and turned to face the two. Her lips were starting to chafe and was starting to feel like the US navy, except she was just filled with semen and didn't protect any coastlines. Clearing her throat, she began to rasp hoarsely.

"Now...will you tell me about Niero and the D-Toid Army?"

The one looked at the other. The other was just sitting there grinning, looking up at the ceiling with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth, not a care in the world. The one looked down at himself. He was red with all the mouth action he had gotten in the past week. He was impressed with The Cockmonger though. True to her word, she had sucked their cocks all week, even while she was raiding with her WoW clan. It take skill to keep healing the tank when you've got a double dose of man-sauce in either eye. Looking back to The Cockmonger, he stood up and began to speak.

"Fuck it," he said nonchalantly, "Here's the web address." He scrawled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. The Cockmonger snatched it away and began to monologue.

"HAHAHAHAHA," she cackled, "Now that I have this, I will infiltrate the D-Toid community! I will break the rules and throw the whole community into disarray with pictures of my female form and they will be my slaves! I'll post in LEET so that they will understand me and trust me immediately! I'll appeal to them through their stomach with cupcakes, because you know what they say boys, the best way to a man's heart is..."

The one sat back down at the table, The Cockmonger still monologuing. He turned to the other and mentioned that they should probably go. The other lazily butted out his cigarette and agreed. Neither of them wanted to miss the shitstorm of comments this tart's posting would bring and the two of them had just about enough Wii to last them a lifetime. Just as they were getting up and heading for the door, when The Cockmonger stopped them at the doorway, her monologue finished.

"Now for you reward," she cooed, "I want both your cocks in my mouth at the same time."

She lowered herself and started to undo their pants. The one turn to the other and mouthed, "what a stupid bitch". The other, his head dropping back in joy, turned and mouthed back, "I know". The two high fived and saluted the Hello Kitty poster.

With the door closing behind the two, The Cockmonger pulled the last pubic hair out of her teeth and set down to work. As she said she would, she did her best to lure the unsuspecting D-Toid community into her trap.

"Hai evry1! My name's Sh3la! X3 I love playin' WoW and the japanese Hello Kitty games. I also have a Wii and play a lot of it! XP! I LOVE playing Mario 1 on the Vitrual Console, so I'm not just a "WoWer!" I love this site n will totally stay here as long as ur nice! -_^ Can we b fwends??" Her work was done here. She clicked post.

Niero was just getting into his hot tub with a grandma, a mom and daughter, who were all nude and smoking hot. Niero was about to bang three generations with his tri-cock, when his Ownage-senses tingled. Focusing his mana, he sensed out where the disturbance was, and found it. With a snap of his fingers, his eyes flashed and his pubic mane wove itself into a tuxedo. The hot tub startled to bubble, not because of any jets that were installed, but because the three woman in the hot tub came so hard. Raising his arms above his head, he used his awesomeness to summon the BANHAMMER. All the stars in the sky came together in the form of a massive skull. He thought of a wicked techno beat and started to project it from his body, his pecs providing the wicked bass. The skull, nodding to the beat of the music, grinned and opened it's maw, as a huge fireball came flying out. It was the BANHAMMER. As the BANHAMMER came screaming down towards the earth, Niero blew a kiss to the three. Not only did these three come, but anyone who had ever come into physical contact with them came at that moment, it was so hot. Niero then leapt up into the sky, snatched with the BANHAMMER and shot across the sky, as the people he flew over came uncontrollably to his sick techno beat.

The Cockmonger sat back confused and frustrated. Her alias, Sh3la THA G4m3r, was actually getting flamed, not adored! With her brow furrowed, she attempted to post back with cutesy comments, dribbling with leetspeak, in a vain attempt to turn the tide. It would be to no avail. The D-Toid Army had smelled blood and were proceeding to shove verbal tampons in each of her online orifices. Not that the Army had anything against woman. Fuck, they loved the ladies. They knew how to do that one move where you take a woman's legs and let them hang off your arms while you plowed her as you stand, your thrusting power and gravity rocking her babymaker in style. But this bitch wouldn't get that. She was now the target of a cyber circle jerk and there was no escape. The Cockmonger then heard the wicked bass. Awesomeness had arrived. The Cockmonger ran through her front door to meet her foe. She had a plan.

As the bass built, people began to emerge from their homes, wanting to see where the sound was coming from and to escape from the awkward situation of coming in unison with your entire family in the same room. When they realized who it was, the crowds cheered. Niero streaked across the sky and stopped abruptly above The Cockmonger. He swung the BANHAMMER around and pointed it at The Cockmonger. All the woman in the area suddenly were nude and the streets had turned into giant rows of jello. They began wrestling immediately as Niero landed in front of The Cockmonger and flexed, the sight of his biceps causing porn magazines to rain down from above. A chant slowly began as Niero swaggered towards The Cockmonger.


Niero was here for business. He raised the BANHAMMER. The Cockmonger spread her legs.

With a powerful sucking noise, a wind blew in with the force of an F-5 tornado. Shingles were torn off houses, buildings began to lose pieces of brick. The once jubilant crowds were now hanging on to dear life to anything they could get their hands on. Catching Niero by surprise, the wind sucked the BANHAMMER out of his hand, and up into The Cockmongers box.

Silence descended across the Earth, all of the inhabitants sensing something was terribly wrong. Even Niero's pecs stopped pounded the sick bass. No one came.

Niero stood perfectly still. Now he was angry. Spreading his fingers apart, lightening began to surge and arc between his fingertips. The air that surrounded him seemed to grow hazy as if some unseen force was building around him. He slowly raised his hands, the earth beneath him beginning to rumble and crack open. With an deafening roar, Niero slammed his feet into the ground, causing an earthquake that killed every terrorist on the planet. Suddenly, his pubic-mane-tuxedo retracted around his groin, firing a blinding white light into The Cockmonger's eyes. Niero had undone his fly.

"YOU WANT A COCK?!", Niero roared, "THEN YOU GOT ONE!"

Niero whipped out his cock. The rotation of the earth stopped. 1000 monkeys on 1000 typewriters finished writing Shakespeare. Miley Cyrus instantly turned 18. The crowd gasped. Never before had such a sight been beheld. The onlookers instantly became fluent in all the earth languages, just because Niero wanted everyone to be able to tell anyone what was about to play out, the language barrier be damned. Raising his cock into the air, he spun around and smashed the tip of his cock into The Cockmonger's forehead, bashing her into the ground. The force of the blow caused a huge dust cloud to form and everyone was blinded for a few seconds, coughing in the dark.

As the dust settled, people began to emerge from their hiding spots. The all gasped at the sight.

A DESTRUCTIOD robot face was now seared into her forehead. Niero's pubic-man-tuxedo enveloped his form again. Feebily, The Cockmonger spoke

"I just....just wanted suck.....your cock."

Niero walked over and looked down at her.

"Let this be a lesson to you Cockmonger. Rule #1. Don't. Suck."

He then came another BANHAMMER.   read

3:39 PM on 01.10.2009

A tribute to ZzFFTLzZ: The end of douchebaggery.

Since I've been in this community, I've seen some fail. HARD FAILS. But this guy not only bitched out once, but twice. I'm sorry guy, but don't do that to this community because this could happen...


Dawn. The sun was bright in his room, the curtains left open from a night of watching the girl next door paint her toenails through a pair of binoculars. A night that was well spent, masturbating to mediocre tasks carried out by a semi-clothed woman who had no idea she was being watched from afar by a failure.

That's what gave him his kicks, failing. ZzFFTLzZ was a born failure and he embraced his creed with gusto. His love of fail was one that he could not help but embracing with his mind, body, and soul. Every morning he would wake up and eat nothing but protein bars and energy drinks, while he masturbated to porn on his dial-up modem. The act would take about a half hour, not because he had any length at holding an orgasm but because it took the 40 sec clip that long to download. The crescendo of his hand-fury would be shot on toast and then consumed. Fail.

This morning was no different. He rose from his dirty mattress propped up by milk crates he had stolen from the local food bank and went straight to his IBM with windows 95. He prepped himself as the sound of the booting beast roared to life, an association he built with his morning porn, much like Pavlov's dogs. The OS loaded and he began his ritual, grunting and sweating away, in boxers he hadn't changed for over a week. Fail.

Wiping the toast crumbs away from his face, he leaned back to contemplate the past nights score. While rummaging through a mall garbage dumpster for soiled panties from woman's clothing stores, he spotted a child who had been bought an xbox360 by the Make a Wish foundation. Knowing he would never be able to beat up anyone but a 10 year old with cerebral palsy, he quickly ran up and sucker punched the kid, stole the xbox and tea bagged him, screaming faggot the entire time. Fail.

He turned in his chair and looked at his floor unit TV covered in dirty dishes and mold. He had pushed a pile of dishes off the TV to put the stolen xbox on the empty space. He grinned, exposing his green, unbrushed teeth. He had played gears of war 2 late into the night, pausing between matches to objectify his beautiful neighbor. He cleared his throat. It was still hoarse from the night of screaming faggot into his headset and drinking more energy drinks. He loved it, the experience. He suddenly had an idea. One fuck of a fail was in the works. Fail.

Running back to his computer, he wiggled the mouse, clearing the flying star screen saver. He opened Netscape and typed in a domain address he had over heard in a Gamestop, while hogging one of the xbox console demo stations, playing 8 year olds for their lunch money, screaming in their faces when he beat them barely. He then went to the window again to check on his neighbor while the page took 10 minutes to load. Fail.

After relieving himself by watching his neighbor sort flyers, he walked back to his computer and saw the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. DESTRUCTOID was emblazoned across his 800x600 screen, he scrolled around and looked at the beautiful community that had been formed, their camaraderie made him jealous. He wanted their attention, their praise. Anything to make him compromise for his small penis. He then made his account. Zz zZ would border his moniker, but what would that be? He thought hard. An idea burst into his greasy scalp. Fucking Failure Thru Life. His onscreen name would be ZzFFTLzZ. Fail.

Not even pausing to read the community's reasonable rules, he began to blather on about how gears of war was awesome. That was it. Nothing else, grammar and content be damned. After writing two sentences, he clicked the post button and then sat hunched over his toast-crumb laden keyboard and kept clicking refresh constantly. Fail.

Finally, the comments began to appear. Slow at first, their pace and intensity quickened with each subsequent posting. His jaw dropped, he peed himself slightly and he couldn't understand why these internet people did not love him as much as he loved himself. He had posted, "Possibly the best 3rd person shooter i have ever played and its fucking awsome the story line is awsome the game play is awsome and the online play is awsome i give it a 9/10 because you cant get rankings in online play which i wish you could kinda like halo 3 but i digress if you dont have the game get it is a great investment in your xbox360 collection". He even repeated awesome several times. Fail.

He raised slowly from his chair, his boxers sticking to the upholstery for a moment. He walked over to the window again to check on his only female contact and began to ponder. Why would they not like my post? I was a total douchebag like on Gears 2! What did I do wrong? What kind of community doesn't embrace fuckasses like me for all their worth, holding circle jerks in my honour? Suddenly another idea formed, he was impressed with his own genius. Fail.

He would log on and call them all faggots. EPIC FAIL.

Niero awoke with a start. There was douchebaggery afoot. Grabbing the BANHAMMER, he teleported outside, an act that made all women in a 50 miles radius immediately orgasm in unison. Calling upon the Ownage, He located the offender and shot up into the sky, with the sound of 1000 guitars playing heavy riffs of awesomeness. The sound wave that echoed out, caused those women who had just orgasmed to have their breasts grow an extra two cup sizes. Win.

Back in ZzFFTLzZ's room in his mom's house, ZzFFTLzZ hit the post button and sat back. Immediately, D-toiders everywhere unleashed their fury and told this troll to die in many painful ways. The first blog was met with some mild flaming but also some constructive criticism. With this second atrocity, there would be no quarter. ZzFFTLzZ looked at the posts and began to cry, his tears being the only form of moisture that touched his clothing for years. Suddenly, he heard a sound and the earth began to rumble. Win.

Fail was about to meet an EPIC WIN

ZzFFTLzZ walked outside of his house to see what was happening. Car alarms were going off. Windows were breaking. He noticed his neighbor, falling against her car, hands on her groin with a huge smile on her face. He did a double take. Did her breasts just grow two cup sizes? The sound he had first heard was now loud and distinct. It was a fuckin' bitchin' guitar solo. Instantly, he got an erection. Win?

The clouds that had formed earlier in the day parted, revealing a godsend. Niero flew down and landed in the middle of the street, chunks of concrete flying up from the ground and into the surrounding buildings, some pebbles maintaining orbit around Niero. Lightening flashed and thunder crashed around him, His eyes glowing red with rage. The guitar rift quickened it's pace, and topless women appeared from all directions, swarming around Niero. As Niero flung his arm out and pointed at ZzFFTLzZ, all the trees in the neighborhood burst into flames and all the light bulbs across the Eastern Seaboard burst. The act was met with applause, for it was awesome. Win.

As he spoke, any remaining clothing on the women around Niero was torn asunder by the power of his dulcet tones. Win.


With much majesty, Neiro raised the BANHAMMER. Pipes burst in the houses surrounding him. ZzFFTLzZ had fallen back on his hands and shit himself. Niero arced the BANHAMMER back and swung it forward at ZzFFTLzZ's face. ZzFFTLzZ exploded into smoke and cocks. The crowd that had formed to watch the commotion, all came. The act was caught by a local new team broadcasting live, causing all the nations of the world to declare peace. Win.

Holstering the BANHAMMER on his back, Niero turned to the crowd. Win.

"Anywhere that there is douchebaggery, I will be there to fight it. Anytime a fuckass posts nonsense blogs that waste D-toiders time and bandwidth, I'll be there," Niero said. He then struck a pose that cured the world of cancer and fixed the economy. He continued. "But most importantly, anytime that there is a troll that decides to endure the fury of our community, WE will rise up and set it right. WE will not allow such things to continue, not once we have attempted once to guide them. WE will always be ready and waiting, to fight the shitheels that break our rules and expect no repercussions." Win.

The crowd burst into tears at the beauty of his words. As Niero walked away to fly off into the sky again, he turned his head to look over his shoulder and said,

"Also, Cocks."

The universe came. Win.   read

6:47 AM on 01.09.2009

*NVGR* Skid marks

Hey Community! I couldn't sleep last night and I remembered a horrible experience of mine and had to write it out! My skin's still crawling from the memories...



We all have secrets. Secrets, which we will go to great lengths to keep hidden. The threat of exposure is a powerful motivator. Politicians know this best, and some have been destroyed by embarrassing acts from their past. Sex tapes, behind the scenes dealing, you name it, these things have influenced many lives, and gossip is always in hand with the uncovering of ones skeletons in their closet. As for me, I try not to have many secrets that I keep stowed away, the pressure to keep them from prying eyes can be too stressful sometimes. But when I do have a covert circumstance, I'll do whatever it takes to keep from being exposed. This is the story of a time when one of my "dirty" little secrets was discovered.

Summer camp is an experience many of us have had. The camp in question for me was a Christian bible camp that I had been to for four years in a row and I loved it very much. I wasn't Christian myself but because of that fact, I got to go for free so they could attempt to convert me. It wouldn't have worked anyway. My parents instilled a deep mistrust of the church in me. Something about the idea of a giant, shiny, beardy man in the sky didn't sit right with us. It was right on the coast of Southern Ontario, over looking Lake Huron. The campsite itself was in the middle of a forest, tall leafy maple and birch trees surrounding the perimeter. The air was fresh and invigorating to breathe in. Just thinking about it now I am reminded of a simpler time in my life. I was about 11 at the time of this story and I had just finished lunch.

The mess hall at the camp prepared delicious food. Today, lunch had consisted of chili and garlic bread with unlimited helpings. Being a fatter child than most, I abused this privilege and had eaten about four bowls of the stuff. I was filled to the brim and I was content. As the meal ended, our afternoon was to begin with two hours of free time, where we could do what we pleased, be it swimming, capture the flag, archery, whatever. It was a hot day so, I and my seven fellow bunk mates decided to get a snack from the tuck shop and then retreat to our cabin to escape the sizzling heat.

Being full from the meal, I told my friends that I would just head to the cabin and await their return. They waved to me and headed for the shop as I turned to waddle back toward our residence. It was here when the by-product of eating four bowls of chili began to manifest. I began to fart.

Farts to any kid are fucking hilarious. Entertained by this new development, I proceeded to release my gases with reckless abandon. With each couple steps, I would unleash a powerful ass-busting, the sound of my flatulence making me laugh uncontrollably. As I reached the cabin, I thought of a prank I could pull on my friends. I would go in and close all the windows in the cabin, hold in my gas for as long as I could and fire off a fart so fierce, the smell would be unbearable. I grinned from ear to ear with the thought.

I sat down on my bunk and felt the rumbling in my stomach grow. The methane began to knock at my back door, asking to be let out, but I acted like nobody was home. Ten minutes passed and with each passing second the pressure was building. It got to the point when I had to stand up and walk around a bit, to ease some of the pain I was feeling in my bowels. Finally, I decided that I had saved up enough gas to unleash it on the room and eventually, my bunk mates. Placing my hands on my knees, I bent slightly and pushed. The sound that greeted me spelled disaster.


Immediately, I stood up and felt something wet and warm in my underwear. Fear set in. I had just sharted in my pants! Panicking, I look out the window towards the tuck shop and groaned in horror as I saw my friends slowly approaching. I turned back to the interior of the cabin and tried to think of a way out. I then decided the first choice of action was to get out of my shitty underwear. With amazing speed and flexibility for an overweight child, I stripped down and pulled off my undies. The sight that greeted me filled me with mixed emotions. Yes, I had indeed sharted, but, it was less than I thought I had. As I stared at the Hershey Kiss sized discharge, I then looked up around for a place to hide it.

I had to dispose of the evidence. I spotted the cabins garbage container, rushed over pantless, lifted some of the refuse and tossed the shitty underwear into the bin. Jumping back into my pants, I hurried out the cabin door, closed it and tried to compose myself. Not even 4 seconds after I closed the door, my friends arrived. They were greeted by the sight of me leaning against the cabin with one hand while I looked at my feet and whistled.


"Hey Luke," one of them said, "why are you standing outside? It's so hot out!"

With almost lightening speed, an explanation spurred through my mind and out my mouth.

"When I got here, I did go inside at first, but it stinks really bad in there! I don't know what is making the smell!"

Of course I was lying through my teeth. I knew EXACTLY what was making the god awful stench, but I had a plan. I would play it off like I had said and when the tarnished tighty-whities were discovered, I would deny any and all involvement of their creation.

Hurriedly, we opened the door and ran in. Even though I had just been in the room seconds prior, the closed windows and the sun's heat had intensified the smell to epic proportions. The odor made me retch slightly, an act that was mimicked by the rest. The windows and door were sprung open and the breeze cleared the room of the filthy scent.

The search had now begun.

First, everyone checked their own bunk and belongings. I'm pretty sure everyone wanted to be certain that something that smelled that bad, was not hiding in their beds or in their luggage. When this was done, we swept the room, checking under bunks, in drawers and behind cabinets. I purposely searched the side of the cabin opposite of the trash can, determined not to be the one that uncovered the dirty prize. Implications would surely follow as soon as it was found.

Finally, one of them opened the lid to the trash can and hovered over it and inhaled. He immediately gagged and ran out of the cabin. He may have puked, I don't know. I was numb with fear as I watched the other children rush over to the trash can, each wanting to investigate it themselves.. With a determined fervor, the lid was torn asunder and a stick was used to pull the undies out. The reaction was instantaneous.


The shitty underwear was carried into the center of the room and laid on the floor. The children had begun to grow more and more excited in their disgust. They began pushing and shoving as they accused each other of doing the deed. I snapped out of it and feigned excitement about the discovery. Then, what I was fearing happened. The accusations started.

"Well," one said, "how the hell did this get here?"

"Luke was here for ten minutes by himself," another added, "They gotta be his!"

The group turned to face me. I then proceeded to give my Oscar nomination performance to the crowd.

"It wasn't me!" I began to explain, "When I got here, I opened the door and smelled this gross smell. I looked around for bit but the smell was too sick and I had to get out."

At this point I had walked towards the window and was looking out of it. I slowly turned back to the crowd and furrowed my brow.

"You know who it may have been, those dicks from Cabin 6!"

My arm shot out towards the aforementioned cabin's general direction.

The group exchanged dark glances between each other. Cabin 6 was our worst competition for the Cabin Cup, a prize for the cabin that had won the most points in the nightly camp games. Things had gotten pretty heated between the two cabins, and they would have been blamed for my mess had one of the group not had been struck by a blow of rational thought.

"I'm not entirely sure that Cabin 6 would do this," he mused, "I know. How about we check everyone's luggage and see what kind of underwear they have?"

I froze to the spot. I then gulped unnaturally loud at the most inopportune time.

The others, impressed by this unexpected stroke of rationality, ran to their bags and started to empty them. I slowly turned and looked at my bag and knew I was surely fucked. Still, in the attempt to keep this shipwreck of a ruse afloat, I proceed to unzip my duffel bag and pour it out on my bed. I only had tight, white underpants. I peered over my shoulder and looked to see if anyone else had some as well.

No one did.

They had all made the jump from undies to boxers. As I surveyed the room with my peripheral vision, all I saw was one plaid nail in my coffin after another. All of the other seven bunkers held boxers in their hands. The inevitable process of elimination brought all of their gazes to me. I did not turn around.

"Well Luke, lets see them."

My mind was racing a mile a minute, scrounging for some piece of bullshit to tell them. My mind had stalled. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it spun me around, my arms filled with my guilt. A collective gasp escaped from the crowd. The next few moments will stick with me for the rest of my life.

I was dragged out of the cabin by the majority of my bunk mates, while one followed in behind holding the stick with my damnation fluttering on top of it in the wind. Their yells alerted the entire camp that something was up. Like ants, the other campers swarmed out of their cabins and marched towards the circus. I was dropped onto the center of the meeting ground and surrounded by the entire camp. As I sat there dumbfounded, the stick carrier ran up to me and dropped the undies on my face. Courses of laughter erupted from the onlookers. Unable to see, I stood up and reached to pull off the underwear. I was greeted with looks of horror and sounds of disgust.

That little Hershey Kiss was now smeared across my forehead.

I didn't go back to camp the following summer.   read

4:49 PM on 01.08.2009

*NVGR* Tastes on the Danthforth: The Harbinger of Death

Another tale of how hot food has driven me to severe measures. It's long, but hopefully worth your time. Enjoy!

Kicking it back to 1992 for me, muppets flashback!


I like food. Food is good. Food lets me live. Man has embraced the idea with food and made it a significant section of every culture. Well sure, needless to say we need food to continue living, but the art of cooking has been evolving since man discovered meat and fire. In ancient Rome, popular chefs would have better treatment than most statesmen, a level of luxury close to the Emperor himself. Spices for food have fueled wars for territory and even put an entire race on the brink of annihilation. Nutmeg was responsible for the massacre that killed most of the inhabitants on the Banda Islands, perpetrated by the Dutch in their battle with Britain for the spice trade. Today's culinary world is a much calmer time, void of death and destruction. International competitions range around the world to be the top chef and to create meals that are the best in their category. Spicy food is one of the most prominent kinds of food on the planet. Thrill seekers will engage in endurance competitions to see who can withstand the heat the longest. There are more kinds of hot sauces in the world than any other kind of sauce. I like to consider myself a master of the craft as I have tried over 500 hot sauces. And yes, I've kept count.

I have had this passion for hot sauces because of my dad. As a kid he would often eat them on all sorts of food and being enthralled by this, I wanted to be like dad and eat them too. Since then I've built up a pretty fierce tolerance to their heat and intensity, and I'm continuing to build on that tolerance. Only with one major exception

However, with a tolerance such as this, it has lead to me to show off. In high school, I would challenge friends and strangers alike to jalapeno eating contests and I was always the winner. People would watch internet videos of people's reactions to certain hot peppers and try to exact their revenge on me. I can look back fondly remembering the looks of awe, as I would simply lean back and eat the peppers like popcorn. I'd win bets, contests, all sorts of competitions. There was no hot sauce that I would turn down.

As it's said, "pride goes before the fall".

It was Boxing Day of 2007. I was at my annual family Christmas reunion at my dad's house for the week in Newmarket and I was visiting with all my cousins. My cousin Sarah, however, had to return home to Toronto to be back for work the following day. I had been invited for the ride with her, along side her brother and parents. I was all for it, I fucking love Toronto.

This story truly begins with a little shop of horrors called, "Tastes on the Danforth". The Danforth being Danforth street AKA Toronto's greektown. We had parked in Sarah's driveway and unloaded her luggage when she turned to me and said,

"Hey Luke, you like hot sauce, right?"

I immediately snapped to.

"Oh fuck yeah, I'll try any kind of hot sauce you can bring me!"

A small grin slowly spread across her face.

"Well, if you want," she mused, "there's a hot sauce place just around the corner. It's filled with all kinds of hot sauce and he give out samples to try"

I should have recognized that she was flanking me mentally. It didn't matter. I had faulty intelligence and my CO ordered me into the fray. An ambush was awaiting me.

We started to head toward the shop. It was a beautiful day for being in the midst of winter. The temperature had risen above freezing and the snow was melting. For being in the middle of Toronto, it was fairly quiet. As we walked, music drifted out from the restaurants and coffee shops that lined the streets. The entire street smelled of delicious Greek fare. We turned the corner and headed onto the Danforth proper, and there it was. At the center of the T junction ahead of me was the fabled hot shop. The storefront was misleading. Outside, it was painted in soft, happy tones, with the sign written in large, loopy letters. While inside, it contained death on every shelf, bottled in bright, vibrant colours. I wish all those hours of watching the Discovery Channel would have reminded me that, in the wild, several creatures that are brightly coloured are known for being deadly when ingested.


A bell jingled as I opened the door to the shop. My jaw dropped at the sight that greeted me. The shop was small, but each wall was covered in shelves, filled to the ledge with hot sauces. This was my proverbial candy shop. I spun slowly as I surveyed the bounty I had been brought to. The hot sauces were organized by heat, the lowest intensity at the lower shelves and each shelf that ascended it had an increase in heat. At the very top, there was a glass case that was locked with 6 different bottles placed into a plexi-glass triangle. I started to salivate at the site of them.

"So, what can I do for you today?"

I turned to the voice. The shopkeeper now stood beside me and my cousin.

"I hear you give taste tests." I responded. The shopkeeper smiled and nodded.

"Yes, yes we do. What would you like to try?"

I turned back to the wall of fire and pointed up to the case. I focused on the bottle at the top of the triangle.

"That one."

"You'll have to sign a waiver to try that one," the shopkeeper chuckled, "It's very hot."

He pointed to 2 posters beside the shelves. One was a chart of the Scoville Scale.

Heat, as in the level of spiciness, is measured in a unit called a Scoville. To add some perspective, an ordinary bell pepper has a measurement of 0 Scovilles. The average jalapeno has a measurement ranging from 2,500 to 8,000 Scovilles. A habenero pepper rates around the 100,000 to 350,000 mark. The world's hottest chili, the Naga Jolokia, tops the scales at around 1,050,000 Scovilles. Components of these peppers are used in several pepper sprays as well, their average ranging from 2,000,000 to 5,300,000 Scovilles.

The other was a large poster of a hot sauce bottle that claimed to be the hottest in the world. It was the very same bottle that was on the top of the pyramid. In big, fiery numbers, I saw 5,600,000 Scovilles.

The hot sauce I was about to ingest was more powerful than military grade pepper spray. Immediately, warning bells went off in my head and I wanted to leave. I turned to my cousin and was about to suggest just that, when I saw the look on her face. She knew I was going to chicken out, she just wanted to have a laugh at my expense. I turned back to the shopkeeper.

"Get me the form."

The form had asked me for certain things no one likes thinking about. My health card number, my next of kin and some insurance information. It made me very uncomfortable, but I began to pump myself up. Before this, there was no reason to doubt my ability. I'd had countless "hot" sauces before and I'd defeated each and everyone of them. I had trophies for the hot food competitions I had entered before. Fuck this Scoville nonsense, it doesn't have shit on me!

I was so very, VERY wrong.

The shopkeeper went into the back and brought out another bottle of the death sauce. I was about 3 inches high and he wore gloves to open the top. When he lifted the lid, the smell made my eyes water and more saliva to form in my mouth. The anticipation I felt started to make my heart race. He picked up a toothpick with a weight on one end, dipped it in oh so slightly, and set it down in front of me. I looked up at the shopkeeper to see if he was joking.


Taking a deep breath, I picked up the toothpick, closed my eyes and set it on my tongue. I felt heat. Not much though. I moved the tiny dab on my tongue around my mouth and the heat didn't really increase. Opening my eyes, I stood there and looked between the shopkeeper and Sarah. Both looked at me expectantly. I started to laugh. I commented that it "wasn't so hot" and that it was just a clever gimmick to get more business for the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper remained silent, grinning. Sarah looked disappointed. I continued to laugh until my throat went dry, then I swallowed.

The sensation I experienced can only be explained by this video.


When I swallowed, heat exploded through my head. At the same time, I went beet-red, teared up and started to sweat from every pore. I tried to move more saliva around to fight the fire, but it only made the situation worse. It was like I had molten lava in my mouth The heat sank lower each time I swallowed. Like a woman in labour, I started to breath heavily in spats, trying to cool my tongue. Nothing was working. The heat was beginning to turn to pain. Some how I needed to stop the suffering. Spinning to the window I looked for a solution and found one.

Back up the street, an ice cream truck was parked with children all around it.

Primal instinct took over. Screaming, I ran out the door.

In a flash, I had bolted out of the shop and into the street and into oncoming traffic. Heavy traffic was speeding through the light. Brakes screeched as I ran onto the road, flailing my arms and screaming like a wild man. I was narrowly missed by a Honda Civic as it swerved to avoid me and crashed into another car. As I reached the other sidewalk, the pedestrians quickly parted for me, their heads turning to watch me as I ran by. However, a flower shop display got in my way and I crashed into it full force, the green Christmas garlands entangling me. I was not thinking anymore, I ignored the pain of the fall and continued to run. I was about 20 meters from the child-swarmed ice cream truck as it started to pull away.

I'm sure for most of the kids there that day, the fact that they were getting ice cream was the best thing ever. Most of them being about 8 and under, I can imagine they would have had the previous day filled with gifts and toys and all sorts of happy things. I can imagine today was probably a family day out on the city, stopping out at a park, running, laughing, playing. I can imagine the joy in their hearts as they heard the tell-tale jingle of the ice cream truck. I can imagine the exhilaration of running up to the truck and being greeted by the kind smile of the ice cream person and getting to choose which treat they wanted. I can imagine as they all watched the truck pull away they all began to eat their treats. i can imagine their perfect feelings of happiness and security.

But I can also imagine that they suddenly heard a sound. Quiet at first, it distinguishes itself out of the constant drone of the city. They hear it build and become more distinct. It's a scream, almost a roar. They would have noticed the direction of the sound, this heinous shriek of pain and desperation. And as they turned they would have seen a hulking green mass with arms and legs, rushing towards them, shouting in a haggered, hoarse voice, "ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!". I can imagine the terror they felt as they ran away from this thing of nightmares, dropping their ice creams and looking for their parents. I can imagine the feelings of betrayal of the one child who fell behind, as his friends scattered away in different directions, leaving him to flee from the beast alone. I can imagine the sensation of this child shitting his pants as he was caught by the Beast and lifted from his feet, his ice cream cone being torn from his hand.

The next day as I was released from my holding cell, my mother brought me a newspaper. They whole incident was on page two. I couldn't believe it, but at least my face had been covered by the garlands. The drive home was silent and awkward, my attempts to start conversation were met by looks of disappointment.

When we finally got home, my stomach grumbled and I knew I had to go to the bathroom. That's when I had a startling realization. What goes in must come out.

Johnny Cash can tell you the rest.

[embed]117407:16858[/embed]   read

11:18 AM on 01.07.2009

OH HAI (shhh this is my intro post)

Hey, I've been lurkin' about Destructoid for a couple months and I've posted a couple things earlier that met with fail, but more recently I've posted a few blogs that have been generally well-received I think. I'm enjoying my slow infiltration of the D-toid community and I'm making a few online buddies.


I never made an Intro Post! I snuck into this place and started whipping out my junk and exposing it to the community at large, with out the introductory judgment that lead to a high five in my favour or a circle jerk of hazing in my face! Let's start the healing...

Hey Destructiod! I'm Tehmtnlion! I hail from Ontario, Canada and I'm rocking out at university, currently majoring in History. I started playing videos back when I was 6 years old, when my aunt jenn gave me a sega genesis and a couple games to start. I've been a dedicated gamer since then and I've hence morphed into a PC gamer of epic proportions. My favourite kind of games are survival horror (resident evil ftw) and rpgs (the Shining Force series hooked me while I was young)

Top 3 Vidja games
1. Final Fantasy VII
2. Resident Evil 2
3. Fallout 3

When I'm not gaming, I read a lot of literature and write short stories, usually with hilarious results. I'm a huge movie buff as well. If anyone ever wants to discuss movies, count me in. Top five movies would have to be

1. Seven Samurai
2. Se7en
3. The Shawshank Redemption
4. The Dark Knight
5. Saving Private Ryan

Now for a brief video break. Hope you like Romanian pop!


K To continue, I hope to become a contributing member of this community and maybe even meet some of you. Niero, I'm bound and determined to give you a high five in RL sometime. Maybe if you'd come to Canada sometime, I could help set something up...

Oh and Scrixx touched my dink. Dink-toucher.

Glad to have joined!   read

Back to Top

We follow moms on   Facebook  and   Twitter
  Light Theme      Dark Theme
Pssst. Konami Code + Enter!
You may remix stuff our site under creative commons w/@
- Destructoid means family. Living the dream, since 2006 -