I've never been punched. But my mother did hit me in the face with a golf club a couple of times.
When I was around ten, we vacationed at a beach town that had a mini-golf course that we frequented quite a lot. There was one hole that was basically skeeball, but my mom kept pushing the ball up the ramp rather than hitting it, always leading to the same max-stroke penalty. Finally one time I convinced her to just go for it, I excitedly lined up behind her to see what would happen and *crack* she caught me flush in the nose on the back swing.
A year later... same course, same hole, same conversation, this time I very cleverly walked around to the other side of her. She reared back, smacked the ball and *crack* caught me flush in the nose on the follow-through.
Now I have sleep apnea because one of my nostrils get blocked when I lay down, but not always the same nostril, and I can't help but wonder if maybe those two incidents have something to do with it?
I think your mom secretly hated you.
+2
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Indie Winterdie KräheRudi Hurzlmeier (German, b. 1952)Registered Userregular
This one time I buried a body of someone I didn't know
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Zonugal(He/Him) The Holiday ArmadilloI'm Santa's representative for all the southern states. And Mexico!Registered Userregular
edited April 2019
One evening during Canada-PAX, @NeoToma, @Jennerose, and I left our hotel to go buy some beer & smokes from a nearby convenience store.
While exiting it, a guy within a group of people on a Montreal curb asked if they could bum a cigarette.
I noticed that one of them was wearing the same Carhartt overalls I owned back home.
So I immediately asked if he had the same problem of those overalls chocking out his dick.
when i was sixteen, i had three summer jobs concurrently: i worked in an auto parts warehouse, i sold stolen watches, and i worked at a gothic photography company based out of philadelphia. i am a man of many hats, after all!
at dark dreams (the photography company), we were trying to come up with something new and exciting to shoot, because dracula's ball had been a bust (it always was), and this was right around the time (late 90's - early 00's) that christian imagery was a big fuckin' deal again in the movies (the whole willenium kajigger did that)
anyway, i was very thin and had hair down to my shoulders and a very thin crustache, so naturally i'd be a perfect jesus.
since we had to make this look super cool, we got a bunch of pipes and mufflers from the auto parts factory on loan, and strapped them up with barbed wire. that was our cross.
there was this shitty quarry near my house that had been basically abandoned for a while and wasn't super deep, so that was the perfect location. we found a relatively decent hill to shoot on, and that's when everything went horribly wrong.
mistake one: strapping me to the cross with barb wire
mistake two: assuming our shitty cross could bear like, any weight.
immediately after raising me up, i tipped over and fell down the hill, smacking into a wheel barrow. i was still strapped to pieces of our cruss, and i was actually pretty fine considering i had been crucified for like three seconds then tobogganed down a hill. we didn't even get a picture! it was a waste of time.
if you look real close on my left wrist, you can see the only mark i have from it -- a scar from the barb wire cutting the shit out of my arm. or like, i could show you it?
+31
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IlpalaJust this guy, y'knowTexasRegistered Userregular
Well I mean what of it didn't? What if you just had a bigger dick than that guy?
FF XIV - Qih'to Furishu (on Siren), Battle.Net - Ilpala#1975
Switch - SW-7373-3669-3011
Fuck Joe Manchin
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HenroidMexican kicked from Immigration ThreadCentrism is Racism :3Registered Userregular
The story of when I first met a forumer in real life:
They didn't like Windows XP when they bought it, so I offered to buy it from them. They drove over, we made the exchange, and then they got back in their car with other forumers.
And they all went to Disneyland from there.
+19
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David_TA fashion yes-man is no good to me.Copenhagen, DenmarkRegistered Userregular
I've never been punched. But my mother did hit me in the face with a golf club a couple of times.
When I was around ten, we vacationed at a beach town that had a mini-golf course that we frequented quite a lot. There was one hole that was basically skeeball, but my mom kept pushing the ball up the ramp rather than hitting it, always leading to the same max-stroke penalty. Finally one time I convinced her to just go for it, I excitedly lined up behind her to see what would happen and *crack* she caught me flush in the nose on the back swing.
A year later... same course, same hole, same conversation, this time I very cleverly walked around to the other side of her. She reared back, smacked the ball and *crack* caught me flush in the nose on the follow-through.
Now I have sleep apnea because one of my nostrils get blocked when I lay down, but not always the same nostril, and I can't help but wonder if maybe those two incidents have something to do with it?
I think your mom secretly hated you.
No, my mother loved me!
One time, she wanted to throw a stick for a dog and as she reached back, the broken off part of the stick rammed into my cheek and when she threw it, it basically shredded my face. I remember she didn't want me looking into store windows on the way home because my face was just covered with blood.
The only reason anyone here knows me is because I latched on to (at the time) well-known forumers
That’s not really a story
But I don’t tend to run into many storyable situations
I don't really remember how you entered my awareness, the latching-on thing doesn't ring a bell. The past is a constantly disintegrating haze to me. I vaguely recall going to the santa cruz beach boardwalk with you and some other folks once, many many years ago? I think? That was you right?
one time I posted on a forum about a webcomic about video games
for 15 years
I didn't know these were going to be horror stories
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Zonugal(He/Him) The Holiday ArmadilloI'm Santa's representative for all the southern states. And Mexico!Registered Userregular
edited April 2019
This past November, while in a 70's style bar with @Rorshach Kringle & @Lost Salient, we had a very engaging conversation about classical music with a man who was clearly mega-high on cocaine.
Rorshach Kringle hated the entirety of the experience.
Zonugal on
+21
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RingoHe/Hima distinct lack of substanceRegistered Userregular
One time I contacted the D&D mods to ask if I could revive the STRANGE AND EMBARRASSING stories thread, and was told that it would find a better home in SE++ these days
I didn't make the thread because I figured it would die in an hour of lackluster shit posting
One time I contacted the D&D mods to ask if I could revive the STRANGE AND EMBARRASSING stories thread, and was told that it would find a better home in SE++ these days
I didn't make the thread because I figured it would die in an hour of lackluster shit posting
One time I was walking through the streets of Hamburg with a friend and a group of three drunk men waylaid us and demanded to know who we supported in the Münster anabaptist uprising.
Several hours and changes of venue later, I was formally inducted into the German Brotherhood of Sort-Of-Anarcho-Communists (the sort-of was an important nuance) and we pledged lifelong alcohol-fuelled friendship.
I do not know any of their names and have never seen anyone involved in this story again, but I still count myself a core founding member of this no doubt historically important socio-political group.
One time I contacted the D&D mods to ask if I could revive the STRANGE AND EMBARRASSING stories thread, and was told that it would find a better home in SE++ these days
I didn't make the thread because I figured it would die in an hour of lackluster shit posting
/story
it can still happen!
Would it be the same without trowizilla's stories?
not a doctor, not a lawyer, examples I use may not be fully researched so don't take out of context plz, don't @ me
When I was a kid my sister’s SEGA died so I made her a Sonic zone on a roll of wallpaper, and made a little cardboard Sonic and some enemies on sticks.
I had her “use” an unplugged controller and basically did a little puppet show for her. It was good.
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Shortytouching the meatIntergalactic Cool CourtRegistered Userregular
One time I was walking through the streets of Hamburg with a friend and a group of three drunk men waylaid us and demanded to know who we supported in the Münster anabaptist uprising.
Several hours and changes of venue later, I was formally inducted into the German Brotherhood of Sort-Of-Anarcho-Communists (the sort-of was an important nuance) and we pledged lifelong alcohol-fuelled friendship.
I do not know any of their names and have never seen anyone involved in this story again, but I still count myself a core founding member of this no doubt historically important socio-political group.
I love this story a lot
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RingoHe/Hima distinct lack of substanceRegistered Userregular
One time I contacted the D&D mods to ask if I could revive the STRANGE AND EMBARRASSING stories thread, and was told that it would find a better home in SE++ these days
I didn't make the thread because I figured it would die in an hour of lackluster shit posting
/story
it can still happen!
No! I won't let it!
BAT STORY TIME
I was 5 or so and my family lived in Minnesota for about a year. What we didn't know is that there was a colony of bats that lived in the attic, and one night these bats decided to come downstairs and introduce themselves to our family. Why that particular night, I have no idea, save for the fact that my parents had just finished watching The Lost Boys and maybe the bats thought'd it be funny to make an appearance so soon after a vampire movie.
Anyway, being 5 and thus much too young to watch scary vampire movies I was asleep upstairs until woken by the horrific screaming of my mother. I stealthily made my way downstairs to find out what all the ruckus was about while hopefully not drawing any of it to myself to come upon a sight I will never forget. There are three to five bats flying erratically around the living room. My mother is shrieking and waving her arms about her head to keep them away, and my father... well what you need to know here is that my father had lost most of his right knee in a motorcycle accident earlier that year, and it took two teams of surgeons and a whole lot of metal just to keep from amputating the leg. By this point he was probably only a month out of the wheelchair and using crutches to get around.
So here is my father, in the living room. One good leg and a pair of crutches hobbling around and about every five seconds he stops. *WII-TCHOW* There is a towel in his hand. He is hobbling around on crutches with a towel in his hand using it like a whip. *WII-THOCK* And now he has just snapped that goddamned towel right into a bat and the damn thing falls out of the air and flops on the ground, stunned.
Dad manages to get another bat before mom regains her senses and sees me standing in the hall. She tells me to go get my McDonald's Halloween buckets from my room (remember those? pumpkins and ghosts and such with a little turn-lock lid?) which I do, and then I come back down and perform lockup duties on stunned bats, which we then place outside to be destroyed by the morning sun.
While I knew even at that tender age that my dad was a pretty badass dude, I think that image of him just standing in the living room, balanced on his crutches and smacking a crazed bat out of the air with a towel will always live with me as the "My dad is just so cool" moment
When I was a kid my sister’s SEGA died so I made her a Sonic zone on a roll of wallpaper, and made a little cardboard Sonic and some enemies on sticks.
I had her “use” an unplugged controller and basically did a little puppet show for her. It was good.
Isn't that awesome ttrpg you run for you niece and her friends? Kids of that very same sister?
playing final fantasy: crystal chronicles with george "corpsegrinder" fisher:
(i have decided to do these in chronological order, save for the lewd ones i can't tell at work)
back when i worked for college radio, we would get added to guest lists and be invited back stage to pretty much every metal concert within a 300 mile radius should we want to. this is how i have the story of how i almost went to the concert where dimebag darryl was shot, but we were too tired to drive to cleveland.
we would do interviews with the bands, and record them, but we never really played them because we were lazy. no one ever called us out on this, and it was an excuse to hang out with bands. if you were nineteen, you would do this too!
george fisher, like most people in metal bands, is a giant nerd. he is wearing dad glasses and a frumpy shirt. this dude is not concerned with image at all.
anyway, we had a standard interview that veered wildly off-topic and somehow first we started talking about video games, which is how i found out he was rolling with crystal chronicles to begin with. i talked it up a lot because it was a dorm staple at the time, and after telling him about the time my co-host got absolutely clowned by...was it hatebreed? i forget, in madden, he totally was down to play it after the show!
that's not even the best part of the story, because after this bit, he somehow went on a goddamn tear about how lame superman is. this goes on for an unreasonable amount of time. there was no provocation and it listed off basically every stereotypical nerd thing to say about him: how does nobody know he's clark kent. he's boring. he's too powerful. etc.
i only exacerbate the situation by getting him to talk about his favorite character: thanos. we then go into a lengthy back and forth about who thanos could beat. i am positive unicron and the lord god, jehova, were contenders.
anyway, he has to prep for the show so he leaves. we watch the concert. it rules. cannibal corpse rules. yadda yadda yadda.
when we got back to his trailer after the show, i spent the entire time biting my tongue over this fact:
george fisher is an unassuming, glasses wearing nerdlinger until he hits the stage, takes off his glasses, and becomes corpsegrinder, a bellowing powerhouse.
one time i convinced a friend's younger brother to cosplay as Zorro, climb up to the window of the girl he had a crush on in the middle of the night, knock on her window, and hand her a love note wrapped around a rose
he was on the roof about to knock before he realized that maybe he should not be taking advice from me
Back in 2009 or 2010 or something, it was during that time the 2008 recession had really taken hold and everywhere was hurting. I was driving halfway across the US. I was in Arizona or NM out in the middle of fucking nowhere and really had to pee. I don't mean like, "Gee, at the next opportunity I should take a break, stretch my legs, and visit the restroom" because I'd passed that point a while ago. I was seeing yellow, my molars were floating, I felt like my midsection was going to explode in an eruption of blood and piss.
But I'm on I-10 or I-40 and it was going to be a long time before I got to anywhere I could pee. And then, as if God Himself was smiling upon me for my life free of sin or controversy, I saw the wonderful blue sign announcing a rest stop just a mere 10 miles ahead, warning that the next rest stop was 30 or 40 miles beyond that.
Salvation ahead, the next few minutes went by mercifully fast, though I may have accelerated beyond my cruise control setting to make sure there were fewer of those minutes. Except at the sign announcing the rest stop exit is another sign announcing that it's closed. The ramp has been blocked off with cones and concrete barriers.
Well fuck. I briefly think about this as I fly past the exit at over 80mph. I could just pull off into the breakdown lane and piss on the side of the road, but it's the middle of fucking nowhere, it's twilight, and I don't want to be on the news because I was pissing on the side of the interstate and got pancaked by some asshole looking at their phone and drifting out their lane and into the ditch. There wasn't a lot of traffic, but there was enough to guarantee several cars passing by. Dying with your fly open and your pants down is acceptable only in the most limited of circumstances; none of those involve being in a ditch on the side of the interstate.
So I grit my teeth, practice my kegels, and haul ass bladder to the next rest stop, desperately hoping along the way that there's some middle of nowhere gas station, or small podunk exit with a porn shop or something along the way.
Nothing.
I'm looking around the car, wondering if there's a bottle or cup to piss into or something. It's fully dark now. If I had risked getting hit by some inattentive driver earlier when it was twilight I'd be done with this hell. If I stop to piss in the ditch now, I'll have to turn my hazard lights on, and since it's dark somebody is going to stop, and while it'd be funny to say that I don't require assistance unless they've got a way for me to wash my hands once I finish irrigating the weeds, I don't know how any random person is going to take the situation.
Blue sign.
Rest Stop
Next right
Yes! I made it. This is going to feel fantastic!
Orange sign.
Closed
Cones and concrete barriers.
I might start crying now, but I'm at the point that any liquid leaving any opening of my body is going to set in motion a chain of events that I don't to deal with.
Finally, there's a mother fucking exit to somewhere that's not a blocked off and closed rest area. I pull off, and this is just an exit to some unpaved county road, no signs of civilization anywhere. I don't give a fuck. I stop on the side of this dirt road and get out. I don't even bother taking the keys out of the ignition or closing the door. I have no idea if this area of the desert is also experiencing a drought, but it's going to be ended in this area and scientists are going to be really puzzled about what happened.
I'm now committed to my course of action until it's done of its own accord. If a chupacabra shows up and is going to eat me, my only course of action will be to aim the stream at it and hope that it's skeeved out and runs away or figures that anybody willing to open up a fight by pissing in its general direction isn't the kind of badass you take chances with.
I hear the unmistakable sound of tires slowing to a halt on the side of a dirt road. My first thought is that, of course somebody out in the middle of nowhere would find me pissing on the side of the road. Probably some asshole running drugs. Hope he's not paranoid and kills me thinking I'm going to snitch or something. We're back to that whole "don't die with your pants down" thing.
It's worse than a chupacabra, a paranoid drug runner, or even a paranoid drug running chupacabra.
It's the county sheriff.
That's it. I'm fucked. I'm going to get a citation and it's going to lead to me losing my job because I work with kids and employers don't take kindly to such things when you work with kids. He clearly sees what I'm doing.
Good lord how much piss can one bladder possibly hold? At this point it feels like 30 or 40 millenia have passed since I began this process. It's probably only been about 5-10 seconds though. Absent other factors, the universal rule of mammalian urination says the average time for all mammals to empty their bladder is about 20 seconds. I'm only quarter-to-half done, but I've been holding it and had to go real bad for a while, so probably longer. Fuck.
I stare into the dark desert, eyes straight ahead, hoping irrationally that if I just don't acknowledge the lawman's presence, they won't acknowledge me. I hear a car door and a voice speaking into a radio. I can't hear the words, but I know the tone and cadence of an officer reporting their location to dispatch.
It's a calm night. A very slight breeze. The interstate is about 20 yards away, and you can pretty plainly hear the roar of cars and big rigs going by. The more important sounds are the footsteps walking closer and the unmistakable roar of a torrent of liquid impacting the ground from a height of about 3 feet and soaking into the ground almost immediately.
The next sounds I hear are very much not expected. It's the sound of hope, of desperate prayers answered, of the universe looking out for me after toying with me for a while first. If you don't know those sounds off the top your head, they sound exactly like the rattle of a belt buckle being undone, the unzipping of a fly, and the addition of a second stream of liquid hitting the ground about 10 feet away, from a height of about 3 feet.
I finish my business, wondering if this new feeling I've got is what it feels like to have negative mass, and I hear the cop say "Budget cuts sure are a bitch, aren't they?"
Posts
I think your mom secretly hated you.
While exiting it, a guy within a group of people on a Montreal curb asked if they could bum a cigarette.
I noticed that one of them was wearing the same Carhartt overalls I owned back home.
So I immediately asked if he had the same problem of those overalls chocking out his dick.
Apparently that was unbecoming of me.
when i was sixteen, i had three summer jobs concurrently: i worked in an auto parts warehouse, i sold stolen watches, and i worked at a gothic photography company based out of philadelphia. i am a man of many hats, after all!
at dark dreams (the photography company), we were trying to come up with something new and exciting to shoot, because dracula's ball had been a bust (it always was), and this was right around the time (late 90's - early 00's) that christian imagery was a big fuckin' deal again in the movies (the whole willenium kajigger did that)
anyway, i was very thin and had hair down to my shoulders and a very thin crustache, so naturally i'd be a perfect jesus.
since we had to make this look super cool, we got a bunch of pipes and mufflers from the auto parts factory on loan, and strapped them up with barbed wire. that was our cross.
there was this shitty quarry near my house that had been basically abandoned for a while and wasn't super deep, so that was the perfect location. we found a relatively decent hill to shoot on, and that's when everything went horribly wrong.
mistake one: strapping me to the cross with barb wire
mistake two: assuming our shitty cross could bear like, any weight.
immediately after raising me up, i tipped over and fell down the hill, smacking into a wheel barrow. i was still strapped to pieces of our cruss, and i was actually pretty fine considering i had been crucified for like three seconds then tobogganed down a hill. we didn't even get a picture! it was a waste of time.
if you look real close on my left wrist, you can see the only mark i have from it -- a scar from the barb wire cutting the shit out of my arm. or like, i could show you it?
Switch - SW-7373-3669-3011
Fuck Joe Manchin
They didn't like Windows XP when they bought it, so I offered to buy it from them. They drove over, we made the exchange, and then they got back in their car with other forumers.
And they all went to Disneyland from there.
No, my mother loved me!
One time, she wanted to throw a stick for a dog and as she reached back, the broken off part of the stick rammed into my cheek and when she threw it, it basically shredded my face. I remember she didn't want me looking into store windows on the way home because my face was just covered with blood.
I don't really remember how you entered my awareness, the latching-on thing doesn't ring a bell. The past is a constantly disintegrating haze to me. I vaguely recall going to the santa cruz beach boardwalk with you and some other folks once, many many years ago? I think? That was you right?
Impossible
Straight through. No warps. No cheats of any kind.
Telling this story just made me sad about how pathetically boring my life has been.
if it makes you feel better i could tell you about all my friends who have died in strange and unexpected ways
sometimes boring is a bonus
I didn't know these were going to be horror stories
Rorshach Kringle hated the entirety of the experience.
I didn't make the thread because I figured it would die in an hour of lackluster shit posting
/story
Oh! I have that too! And all the stories about my drug addicted and alcoholic father too! (not abuse for the record)
Super Mario All-Stars is awesome though
You could've played a game which makes you feel emotionally drained like League of Legends
Several hours and changes of venue later, I was formally inducted into the German Brotherhood of Sort-Of-Anarcho-Communists (the sort-of was an important nuance) and we pledged lifelong alcohol-fuelled friendship.
I do not know any of their names and have never seen anyone involved in this story again, but I still count myself a core founding member of this no doubt historically important socio-political group.
i was going on about anabaptists long before I met those weirdos!
lets face it they're basically the only interesting thing to happen in NRW
Would it be the same without trowizilla's stories?
When I was a kid my sister’s SEGA died so I made her a Sonic zone on a roll of wallpaper, and made a little cardboard Sonic and some enemies on sticks.
I had her “use” an unplugged controller and basically did a little puppet show for her. It was good.
I love this story a lot
No! I won't let it!
BAT STORY TIME
Wow do your right-wing politicians also constantly go to gay bars
all I know is he's been there 100% of the time I've been there
nice
Isn't that awesome ttrpg you run for you niece and her friends? Kids of that very same sister?
(i have decided to do these in chronological order, save for the lewd ones i can't tell at work)
back when i worked for college radio, we would get added to guest lists and be invited back stage to pretty much every metal concert within a 300 mile radius should we want to. this is how i have the story of how i almost went to the concert where dimebag darryl was shot, but we were too tired to drive to cleveland.
we would do interviews with the bands, and record them, but we never really played them because we were lazy. no one ever called us out on this, and it was an excuse to hang out with bands. if you were nineteen, you would do this too!
george fisher, like most people in metal bands, is a giant nerd. he is wearing dad glasses and a frumpy shirt. this dude is not concerned with image at all.
anyway, we had a standard interview that veered wildly off-topic and somehow first we started talking about video games, which is how i found out he was rolling with crystal chronicles to begin with. i talked it up a lot because it was a dorm staple at the time, and after telling him about the time my co-host got absolutely clowned by...was it hatebreed? i forget, in madden, he totally was down to play it after the show!
that's not even the best part of the story, because after this bit, he somehow went on a goddamn tear about how lame superman is. this goes on for an unreasonable amount of time. there was no provocation and it listed off basically every stereotypical nerd thing to say about him: how does nobody know he's clark kent. he's boring. he's too powerful. etc.
i only exacerbate the situation by getting him to talk about his favorite character: thanos. we then go into a lengthy back and forth about who thanos could beat. i am positive unicron and the lord god, jehova, were contenders.
anyway, he has to prep for the show so he leaves. we watch the concert. it rules. cannibal corpse rules. yadda yadda yadda.
when we got back to his trailer after the show, i spent the entire time biting my tongue over this fact:
george fisher is an unassuming, glasses wearing nerdlinger until he hits the stage, takes off his glasses, and becomes corpsegrinder, a bellowing powerhouse.
much like superman
Our formerly most prominent right-wing politician was in a gay bar on the night he died
He also had a lover and no one really wanted to believe it but later that person came out yeah we were totally lovers
he was on the roof about to knock before he realized that maybe he should not be taking advice from me
http://www.audioentropy.com/
like the time i convinced a teacher to quit their job over the phone on new year's eve
But I'm on I-10 or I-40 and it was going to be a long time before I got to anywhere I could pee. And then, as if God Himself was smiling upon me for my life free of sin or controversy, I saw the wonderful blue sign announcing a rest stop just a mere 10 miles ahead, warning that the next rest stop was 30 or 40 miles beyond that.
Salvation ahead, the next few minutes went by mercifully fast, though I may have accelerated beyond my cruise control setting to make sure there were fewer of those minutes. Except at the sign announcing the rest stop exit is another sign announcing that it's closed. The ramp has been blocked off with cones and concrete barriers.
Well fuck. I briefly think about this as I fly past the exit at over 80mph. I could just pull off into the breakdown lane and piss on the side of the road, but it's the middle of fucking nowhere, it's twilight, and I don't want to be on the news because I was pissing on the side of the interstate and got pancaked by some asshole looking at their phone and drifting out their lane and into the ditch. There wasn't a lot of traffic, but there was enough to guarantee several cars passing by. Dying with your fly open and your pants down is acceptable only in the most limited of circumstances; none of those involve being in a ditch on the side of the interstate.
So I grit my teeth, practice my kegels, and haul ass bladder to the next rest stop, desperately hoping along the way that there's some middle of nowhere gas station, or small podunk exit with a porn shop or something along the way.
Nothing.
I'm looking around the car, wondering if there's a bottle or cup to piss into or something. It's fully dark now. If I had risked getting hit by some inattentive driver earlier when it was twilight I'd be done with this hell. If I stop to piss in the ditch now, I'll have to turn my hazard lights on, and since it's dark somebody is going to stop, and while it'd be funny to say that I don't require assistance unless they've got a way for me to wash my hands once I finish irrigating the weeds, I don't know how any random person is going to take the situation.
Blue sign.
Rest Stop
Next right
Yes! I made it. This is going to feel fantastic!
Orange sign.
Closed
Cones and concrete barriers.
I might start crying now, but I'm at the point that any liquid leaving any opening of my body is going to set in motion a chain of events that I don't to deal with.
Finally, there's a mother fucking exit to somewhere that's not a blocked off and closed rest area. I pull off, and this is just an exit to some unpaved county road, no signs of civilization anywhere. I don't give a fuck. I stop on the side of this dirt road and get out. I don't even bother taking the keys out of the ignition or closing the door. I have no idea if this area of the desert is also experiencing a drought, but it's going to be ended in this area and scientists are going to be really puzzled about what happened.
Ziiip. Whoosh. Splatter.
OHCHRISTONAFUCKINGCRACKERTHISFEELSALMOSTASGOODASSEX.
I'm now committed to my course of action until it's done of its own accord. If a chupacabra shows up and is going to eat me, my only course of action will be to aim the stream at it and hope that it's skeeved out and runs away or figures that anybody willing to open up a fight by pissing in its general direction isn't the kind of badass you take chances with.
I hear the unmistakable sound of tires slowing to a halt on the side of a dirt road. My first thought is that, of course somebody out in the middle of nowhere would find me pissing on the side of the road. Probably some asshole running drugs. Hope he's not paranoid and kills me thinking I'm going to snitch or something. We're back to that whole "don't die with your pants down" thing.
It's worse than a chupacabra, a paranoid drug runner, or even a paranoid drug running chupacabra.
It's the county sheriff.
That's it. I'm fucked. I'm going to get a citation and it's going to lead to me losing my job because I work with kids and employers don't take kindly to such things when you work with kids. He clearly sees what I'm doing.
Good lord how much piss can one bladder possibly hold? At this point it feels like 30 or 40 millenia have passed since I began this process. It's probably only been about 5-10 seconds though. Absent other factors, the universal rule of mammalian urination says the average time for all mammals to empty their bladder is about 20 seconds. I'm only quarter-to-half done, but I've been holding it and had to go real bad for a while, so probably longer. Fuck.
I stare into the dark desert, eyes straight ahead, hoping irrationally that if I just don't acknowledge the lawman's presence, they won't acknowledge me. I hear a car door and a voice speaking into a radio. I can't hear the words, but I know the tone and cadence of an officer reporting their location to dispatch.
It's a calm night. A very slight breeze. The interstate is about 20 yards away, and you can pretty plainly hear the roar of cars and big rigs going by. The more important sounds are the footsteps walking closer and the unmistakable roar of a torrent of liquid impacting the ground from a height of about 3 feet and soaking into the ground almost immediately.
The next sounds I hear are very much not expected. It's the sound of hope, of desperate prayers answered, of the universe looking out for me after toying with me for a while first. If you don't know those sounds off the top your head, they sound exactly like the rattle of a belt buckle being undone, the unzipping of a fly, and the addition of a second stream of liquid hitting the ground about 10 feet away, from a height of about 3 feet.
I finish my business, wondering if this new feeling I've got is what it feels like to have negative mass, and I hear the cop say "Budget cuts sure are a bitch, aren't they?"
for some reason