Scary Stories Part II: The Final Chapter

It was early in the morning the second time I saw the Shadow person.

My mother was calling up the stairs for me to get out of bed. I ignored her, shutting my eyes to try and eek out ten more minutes of whatever important dream I was having. I am almost positive I was awake; the light in the hallway was on; I could hear my sister and brother moving around downstairs getting ready for school.

I looked into the doorway and immediately pulled the covers back over my head. This was the most terrified I had ever been. Fear literally paralyzed me. My breathing was arrested. I had a weird pulsating sensation in my body, like my heart was trying to grab my intestines and make a break for it straight out of my chest cavity.

I saw the thing standing in the doorway. It was silhouetted against the hall light. It seemed to be wearing some sort of robe and had pointed ears, a protruding beak, and glowing, beady little red eyes...that were staring right at me.

I couldn't move.

I prayed that it would just go away.

I don't really remember what happened next, or how I got out of my room. I just remember seeing the thing briefly and cowering under the covers.

I didn't think of it at the time but now that I reflect on the situation I think it wanted me to be aware that it knew I saw it. Not just standing in the doorway but in and throughout the house. Sliding cereal bowls and walking around with invisible feet. As if to say: "Hey buddy, yeah I see you. And you see me. Go ahead and tell someone. See if they believe you. I'll still be here when they cart you off to the looney bin." It never did anything except scare the living hell out of me. But that was twenty years ago and is one of the most vivid memories I own. Even if it wasn't malignant, it still scarred me for life.

Those were, as far as I can recollect, the only times I honestly saw ghosts in that old house. Who knows, they might not have been ghost's. More than likely they were figments of my over active imagination. Perhaps a spot of mustard or an old potato.

There were many odd noises that always echoed through the house. Many eerie feelings that someone was watching you when no one was around. Many shadows and objects glimpsed form the corner of my eye, but never any other situation that offered equal veracity as those two times with the shadow man...thing.

The other thing that stands out in my mind about that old house was the endless nightmares. Every night in that house was torture. Almost every dream involved me either getting chased by some unseen force (or miniature version of King Kong-yes that would be a normal sized gorilla) through the house or watching my family become possessed. I tell you it was freaky.

I wish I could go back to that house and tour the inside one more time. Would I see anything or get any weird being watched feelings?

The house Pixie and I reside at now is not haunted, thank God...at least not any more. But that is another story.

Scary Stories Part I

Since Halloween is this coming Wednesday, I decided to tell some scary stories.

These stories are all true and have all happened to me at some point in my life. I would not fabricate these events. The stories are not filled with blood, guts, or gore. What truly makes them scary is that they were real and I have never forgotten about them.

So, turn on your lights and have the phone handy to call your mommy. Here is part I of JQ's Halloween spectacular.

When I was a kid, we lived in a haunted house. It was built in the 1800's in an area that was the site of many battles involving the Indians, French, English and American settlers. The Dudley Massacre, The Battle of Fallen Timbers, Fort Miami, Fort Meigs, they are all within ten minutes of my old house. This may or may not have anything to with my haunted childhood but it sets a nice back drop for a ghost story.

From spectral cats to a shadow person, the house had spooky happenings. One time after school, I was home alone enjoying a bowl of cereal. What kind I can’t remember. Anyway, the bowl of cereal slid about six inches across the table. Not so weird if you think about the unevenness of the floor in that old house. Add a little milk and gravity and you have a sliding bowl. Right? The weird part is that the bowl of cereal slid back to me. With crawling skin and the TV blaring I finished the bowl.

Another time I was exercising, again alone, when I heard footsteps up stairs. I dismissed the noise as one of our cats and continued to pump iron to the classic melodies of ZZ Top. Again I heard the footsteps tromping around upstairs. They seemed to be traveling in circles, spiraling to a central point in the main hallway. Once again, I played the noise off as the cats chasing each other around, and continued to rip my biceps. A few minutes elapsed and there were the footsteps again. This time they were moving from bedroom to bedroom upstairs, almost as if looking for something. I got an eerie feeling and began to suspect that it was not the cats. Just then the footsteps began to head for the stairs. I froze. My heart was pounding. Sweat, not the hot type you get when you exercise, beaded on my arms. The hair on the nape of my neck jolted upright. For some unknown reason I approached the doorway that lead upstairs, the footsteps now stomping at the top landing. As I looked up I remember seeing a shadow of a person(?) pass across the light cresting from the window to the side of the top landing. No person was there. The footsteps continued. Louder and faster they came down the steps, as if they were letting the momentum carry them. I turned and fled outside. I stood in the back yard for what seemed like eons waiting for my parents to come home. I never told them what happened. Although, they did ask why I was outside with nothing but shorts and socks in the middle of October.

This was not the last time I would encounter this shadow person. Later I would meet him...it...whatever face to face.

I love rainy day's

I love rainy days. Except when I have to work. It is no fun building walls, aerating, mulching or otherwise generally maintaining peoples properties when it’s cold, dank and miserable outside. I would rather be: hanging out with the G-man and Pixie; or reading a good book; or playing the drums; or playing the guitar; or playing the bass; or playing the uke; or sleeping. Who the hell likes to work outside when it’s raining? I’ll tell you who: My boss. Either he likes to work in the rain or he is “trying to make money”. Geez, what a jerk.

What do you like to do on a rainy day?

Breakfast with a star

Friday, Pixie and I had the honor of having breakfast with a local celebrity: Jamie Farr.

For those of you not familiar with Mr. Farr's work, allow me to enlighten you. Farr propelled himself into the homes and hearts of Americans with his famed role as Corporal Klinger in the television series M*A*S*H. He gained most of his notoriety as this cross dressing persona, but he has had many great accomplishments in his fifty plus years in show business. He stood side by side with Red Skelton on Red's live T.V program in the fifties. He starred along side Burt Reynolds, Dean Martin, Jackie Chan,and Dom Deluise in "Cannonball Run" I & II and has many other roles in countless projects, both as director and actor, to his credit. He also co-sponsors a famous LPGA tournament in The Glass City every year. Check out his credentials here, here and here.

Alright back to my story.

Pixie got tickets to an OBTA meeting through her work and we got to attend the "Business dress" breakfast with 148 other lucky guests. The combined age in the room must have been close to 8,000. I am not saying that there was a plethora of old people, but there were a few who have known Farr's since the beginning.... of time. Plus, nobody thought it was funny when I showed up in a tropical pattern dress with a Carmen Miranda fruit hat on. Hey, they said "Business Dress" and and since Farr's business is the comedy business, I thought he would get a kick out of it. Apparently he wasn't in a jocund mood that morning because with a nod of his head two burly body guards "escorted" me out of the building. They proceeded to "explain to me" Mr. Farr's distaste for "funny guy's" bothering him with kitschy acts during the most important meal of the day. After I awoke, I discovered Pixie had brought me a change of clothes, kindly leaving it next to my mashed fruit hat.

Back inside, the breakfast was fantastic! If there is one thing I love more than free food is a buffet of free food. I had my fill of french toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, orange juice and more bacon. They had fruit and cold cereal as well, but health food makes me sick so I stuck with the bacon.

Mr. Farr spoke briefly after breakfast. The president of Davis College presented Mr. Farr with an honorary Associates degree in Fashion Merchandise Marketing with a minor in something else equally witty, though I now can't remember what it was. Then we all left the breakfast hall and made our way to the Lucas Room in the grand Hilton Hotel for the OBTA conference. Farr spoke fondly of his past achievements, his rise to fame and his wife's cleavage, making the crowd laugh with every tale. He then had a brief question and answer period. I have to say that I was disappointed he didn't speak on anything remotely related to Business. That, after all, was his obligation as the keynote speaker at a business meeting. Maybe he forgot where he was. But his many humorous stories made up for his dementia.

After the Keynote speech was over we actually got our pictures taken with Mr. Farr. He is an extremely nice gentleman; waiting patiently while everyone groveled at his feet for an autograph and a picture. Pixie and I had one of the lucky student winners from Davis College take a picture of us with Farr. Then as we were walking away, Pixie noticed the picture was blurry, so we turned around shoved the people who had waited patiently behind us out of the way and demanded another picture with Farr. We had her take a third one for good measure. This last one turned out the best.



He was quick witted and for a man his age only had to use the bathroom eight times during the hour long breakfast. I'm impressed. What a time we had listening to his stories about cross dressing, the war, and oh yeah, the stuff he did for M*A*S*H. It was exciting to meet an honest to goodness celebrity from Toledo. One who hasn't married a curious little man and joined a cult.

Integrity

Now here is a man who stands for what he believes. A shining example of what most people lack, integrity.

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I have spent all my free time tonight reading and commenting on other peoples posts and leaving myself no time to think of a post of my own. So here it is. An open post format. Ask me any question you would like. Any question at all and I will answer it for you. No matter how depraved or disgusting or humiliating the question, I will answer it. Whether the question is about me, the future of pork barrels, the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow, whatever. Don't hold back and don't be afraid. This all-knowing, all-seeing, Maharishi is at your service.

I will not however try to guess your weight. What is this, a freaking carnival?

Random Thoughts for Friday

Did I say Friday? I meant Saturday. I started writing this post seventeen hours ago and just sat back down to finish my rant.

First of all, congratulations to Al Gore on winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Apparently they hand it out if you cash in enough frequent-flyer miles. If you want to talk about global climate change being caused by man, well here is the man doing it. In fact, Bigfoot and Sheryl Crow should start a save the planet tour and call it the "Hey look at me. No really, look at me. I'm saving the planet by using all the resources before you stupid hoi polloi have a chance. So look at me. Please."

Am I the only one who is tired of having these hypocritical elitists' spewing on how the general public should conserve and recycle? I was conserving resources and practicing the three R's long before it became a designer trend. It's called being poor. But not only poor, having a conscience. Now all the sudden some billionaire decides to rouse the ignorant masses by saying the sky is falling and he is a hero?

Don't get me wrong I think that he is passionate about his cause. I admire the guy's gusto. He is trying to do what he thinks is right. Though what his cause exactly is and why he deserves what I thought was an eminent award I have no idea. I mean, how the hell is a fictional movie, based on skewed reality a benefit to humanity? I would further question the Swedes definition of Noble Laureate but I am reminded of Alfred and his gift to humanity. Let's all say it together (like Jimi Walker) "Dyn-O-Mite"!

Is the earth warming, probably. Has it done this before? Yes. Go to the other extreme and we have ice ages. Earth's climate changes. I have another inconvenient truth for you all; the sun is going to explode... in about a billion years. It's terminal. I guess that's our fault for not getting those spots checked.

So far as reactions to winning this once revered prize, this lady has it right.


Second, let me thank Mattel, China and the U.S for trying to kill us all with lead paint. Next time don't be a bunch of pantie-waists, use a lethal dose. Speaking of recalls, is it just the media creating and perpetuating hysteria through these "recall stories" or does no one know how to make a worthwhile product that won't cause cancer or kill us?

I blame the unions. The unions and the imperial capitalist pigs. Unions, imperial capitalist pigs, and Rosie O'Donnell. Yeah, that about covers that.


C, how is it that someone can buy a gun and think that it's a good idea to give it to their disgruntled son. Oh yeah, and junior, I have one word for you, "salad".

When I was younger, we settled each other's hash with a good old fashioned fist-a-cuffs after school; two guys beating the hell out of each other without the permanence of death or life in a psyche ward. I guess I am being a romantic, but those seemed like such simpler times.

Times when the Earth wasn't melting, and Rosie O'Donnell wasn't trying to poison us.

Trash Man

You let me down today. What happened? I thought we had an understanding? We had a symbiotic relationship. I would put my refuse on the curb every Tuesday morning. You would drive by with your buddies and throw the trash into the back of your truck. Everyone was happy.

Remember when I gave you that Wurlitzer Organ? You threw your back out trying to hoist it into the truck. You had to have two people help you load it. Remember how the only note it would make after you smashed it with your compressor was B flat? Those were good times. Why? Why did you forsake me? Was it something I said? Was it the overstuffed bags? The dirty diapers? The body parts?

This morning you only took two-thirds of my garbage. I left you three nice bags, not too heavy but not light enough to insult your manhood. Three perfect little bags. But you only thought two of them were good enough to haul to your magical trash kingdom. The third and smallest of the bags—I called him shorty— was still there when I left for work.
I was going to call you and inquire if you were alright, if maybe you were mad at me, but I decided to let you cool off for a while. You'll come back when you are ready.

Trash man, if you can hear me, I'm sorry. Please come back. We miss you.



Asshole.

Where’s the mechanically separated beef?

Topps Meats Co. is closing its doors after faithfully serving the New Jersey area for 67 years and supplying its delicious hamburgers nationwide. The reason? 21.7 million pounds of its frozen hamburgers have been linked to strain of E. Coli O157:H7, a potentially deadly bacteria that causes among other things bloody diarrhea (I have been told that it looks and sounds like a half empty bottle of ketchup being squeezed).
The company slaughters cows and forms patties, which are then frozen and shipped to barbeques all around the nation. Maybe I have watched to many Soprano’s episodes, but I ate a Topp’s burger one time and it was really greasy and tasted like Cadillac’s and pinky rings. I’m just saying. Maybe the USDA should have inspected this “meat processing” facility years ago. Perhaps there is a reason—large envelope full of money—that they didn’t, oh well, I am sure there was ten’s of thousands of good reasons.

So before you cook up those last minute autumn burgers on the grill do yourself a favor; inspect the package, then call an attorney.

Also, I would like to extend my condolences to the D’Urso family for having to shut down your factory—fahgettaboutit! I have an envelope for you.

Goodbye logic, hello America

I will typically tend to stay away from voicing my political views on this blog, but I felt that I should say something about the recent Jessie Macbeth fiasco. First of all shame on you Jesse. Secondly good for you Rush. And lastly, it just goes to show you how warped the media really is that they can run a story that smears someone like Rush, who although a lot of people disagree with him (and I am not a hardcore listener by the way)he does tend to tell the truth among his right-wing rantings. Once again the media and now even our senators are jumping on the "We don't need any facts, just hang someone" mentality. Shame on you all, ignoramuses.