Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Without Love

I'm a Major Pussy

I haven't been posting much cuz I'm addicted to Cynical C.
But, after an ugly night of no sleep, I figured I'd stop in.

So, my buddy Keith is in from Oklahoma and every time I see him we end up talking about the paranormal.
There's this story he always brings up that always creeps the fuck out of me and left me with the lights on last night.
Keith went to Washington State University. He was a big frat boy and one night some frat brothers came back to the house and were white as ghosts. There was like six of them, and they were of the typical frat mode: no imagination, void of dreams, and Republican-practical.
Generalizations are awesome.
No, but these guys, according to Keith, were not the type to even dream of paranormal expierences, much less talk about them.
Not only that, but they were all sober.
So, here's the reason I couldn't sleep last night:

The guys were walking back to the frat in pitch black darkness. WSU is located five hours away from Seattle, and an hour from Spokane (they like to think they are a major city).
My point is, it's out in the boonies. Now, they have electricity (since 1987), but there are parts of WSU (Poulman) that are pitch black when night falls. It's not like Seattle where the only place you can find pitch black is in the soul of Paul Allen or Bill Gates.
So, they're walking around and one of the guys notices a box of cigarettes on the ground and goes to grab. The others look on and as the guy's picking up the pack of cigarettes they all notice something behind him near the trees.
They explained the 8 foot man-like creature as "blacker than the pitch black of night." This is not to say the thing was of African descent. No, it's entire body looked like a black hole with a fine sillouhette of light around it making it into the shape of an 8 foot man.
To the right of the man's "head" was a glowing orb.
That's it.
The boys bolted back to the frat and after the initial explanation, none of them will talk about it.

So, I decided to be sober last night (my stomach was fermentating a slice of pizza in eight beers from the night before) and I found myself opening my eyes every five seconds expecting to find the reaper and orb from the story standing over me.
This lasted for two hours before I decided to turn a light on and finally fell asleep.

A good paranormal story can turn people into drunks.
I think the first time I heard this story is the first day of my ten year drunk.
Keith's a bastard and I hope an 8 foot ghoul eats his soul.
Tonight: I'm getting bombed (with the lights on).


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