Dirty Soda Bar

... mid-spread in a bowl of dirty milk, the flank of a... she'd reached into a whole bar three weeks ago, down into.... So they didn't. They ordered soda and izakaya platters instead and ... me a kilometer. From the bar. And he complained the entire ...

... mid-spread in a bowl of dirty milk, the flank of a... she'd reached into a whole bar three weeks ago, down into.... So they didn't. They ordered soda and izakaya platters instead and ... me a kilometer. From the bar. And he complained the entire ...

... that contained her soda back down on the sushi bar. She nodded... for horrible people. Mob leaders, dirty politicians, criminals, those kinds. Sometimes...

... to request one from a bar so it's not like they... kids to save buying the soda package for $10/day.  At ... the cups, and rather than dirty up or open two of ...

... up a gig at a bar is something I can do... the whole place… "Well it's dirty and stinks, but that's actually ..., not used to a XB bar?" "Why here?" I asked, looking... drink, which was just a soda. Time to get to work...

... and took out a granola bar instead of a pencil, "Behemoth... step slipped on a flattened soda cup. I bounced off the... passed close enough to throw dirty water against the curb at...

... and took out a granola bar instead of a pencil, "Behemoth... step slipped on a flattened soda cup. I bounced off the... passed close enough to throw dirty water against the curb at...

...just being teased with a dirty phone call. He had no ... She and Peter had traded dirty, highly detailed texts and whispered ...a vodka, but lots of soda this time, please." She needed ... cramped space of the bar to constantly invade her physical ...sticky, polished wood of the bar. "Let's go. I'll drive us ...him out of the dim bar and into the cool, dark ...the brick wall of the bar. "You coming or what?" Just ...

... Of Mirror> • 18 Prince - <Dirty Mind> • 19 The Feelies -...> • 12 Charly García - <Piano Bar> • 13 Mercyful Fate - <Don't... <I, II & III> • 51 Soda Stereo - <Signos> • 52 The...

... guy heading to a dive bar than a superhero stopping a... of doing the Teen Team dirty, and the crushing weight of... to be crushed like a soda can. But now, he felt...

... point for the Rising Tide bar.  It would go up and... another coconut cookie.   The Bionic Bar had robotic bartenders.  It was... bars and ask for a soda.  Instead, there were soda machines in Sorrento’s, Park Café... washing dishes, I hate a dirty cup more and cannot fathom ... went in search of those soda cups.      They were to be ... available.  There is also a soda machine in Sorrento’s, so we ...

... chugged the last of his soda, a celebration of his first... bites and lacerations in a bar alley with 'Dragon Gate' in ... man found injured outside a bar in Adachi. "Is that him ... NO problems getting my hands dirty." Overhaul hummed to himself as .... Then the first can of soda was thrown bouncing off Aoyama's ...

... Of Mirror> • 18 Prince - <Dirty Mind> • 19 The Feelies -...> • 12 Charly García - <Piano Bar> • 13 Mercyful Fate - <Don't... <I, II & III> • 51 Soda Stereo - <Signos> • 52 The...

.... FWIW if you put the soda on the tray before them, ...they will return the soda to the correct place, so ... cabinets. A version of the bar cabinet without doors would be ... and doesn't fit on a bar counter without it sitting out ... I have to place a bar counter next to it just ... you get an extra tip. Dirty Dish pickup A tray should ... to stack more than 2 dirty dishes. Or perhaps the option ...

... Motetten dEUS - In a Bar, Under the Sea dEUS - ... Dire Straits - Dire Straits Dirty Three - Ocean Songs Diverse ... Mike Oldfield - Incantations Ol' Dirty Bastard - Return to the ...36 Chambers: The Dirty Version Janusz Olejniczak / Wojciech Kilar / ... Frizzle Fry Primus - Pork Soda Primus - Sailing the Seas ... Daydream Nation Sonic Youth - Dirty Sonic Youth - EVOL Sonic ...

...clean towels and the damp/dirty ones are magically whisked away... up giving me my soda or glass of wine for ...free. I ordered a soda on three different occasions from ...waste time ringing up a soda or the basic house wine.   ...was no dedicated Haven restaurant, bar, or lounge which was just ...thing that was on the bar.    I know some Haven goers ...to the little restaurant beach bar right before we left. I ...

The wonderful folks over at Cooper & Co are going to be set up in our parking lot on Tuesday June 2nd from 10-12:30. They serve amazing Dirty Sodas! Proceeds will benefit our Angel Fund!! Come on out and give them a try!! 131 Pointe South Dr, Randleman submitted by /u/attachedtothreads to r/ncrandolphcounty [link] [comments]

I’m working on the logo system for The Sober Bartenders, a Memphis-area mobile bar concept built around crafted drinks for every guest: cocktails, mocktails, dirty sodas, beer, wine, and personal choice. The goal is for the brand to feel bar-related first, then inclusive second. I don’t want it to feel clinical, recovery-coded, preachy, or like a wellness brand. The typeface is custom, so I’m especially looking for feedback on the letterforms and overall lockup. submitted by /u/JungleJuiceGoose to r/logodesign [link] [comments]

Hello, I bought my 500 LE ps4 when it was released. I opened mine and modded it. However, I got a scratch on the near power and eject button (I was stupid and used baking soda and something else, the scratch is gone and it's perfect but the baking soda went inside near the power and eject buttons and light bar.) Anyway I can clean out the power and eject buttons light bar on this console? It makes it less admirable. Do I have to remove the whole housing? How to get to middle chassis. Thank you submitted by /u/Careless-Command-717 to r/consolerepair [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/Short-Ebb-4846 to r/dirty_soda [link] [comments]

I’m having a dirty soda bar for my graduation party and I want help with recipe creation options. I would like to make a menu to help people with combinations that would taste good because sometimes people have trouble with that (including myself) here is the list of ingredients I have: Diet coke, coke, dr pepper, sprite, orange kiss alani, cherry twist alani, pink slush alani, sweet cream chobani creamer, marshmallow chobani creamer, vanilla chobani creamer, white peach syrup, green apple syrup, strawberry syrup, lavender syrup, passion fruit syrup, raspberry syrup, vanilla syrup, and coconut syrup. If anyone has any suggestions for ingredients please feel free to share! submitted by /u/Short-Ebb-4846 to r/Soda [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/ANIMATRONICZSKELETON to r/realjunkorexic [link] [comments]

hey everyone! i'm a cottage food baker in virginia and i'm looking to add a mini mocktail bar to my booth at a local craft fair. the drinks would just be flavored syrups + grocery store mixes like lemon juice or jams mixed with soda water, made to order on site. i've been getting mixed answers about whether this falls under virginia's cottage food exemption. i know dairy is a no-go since it's TCS, but what about flavored syrups or fruit purees mixed with soda water? even other vendors i've talked to seem unsure about whether they need a permit for this or not, which hasn't helped lol. the official VDACS allowed products list doesn't explicitly mention beverages, but the law covers anything that doesn't require time or temperature control for safety, and syrups seem to fit that. i've also seen other vendors doing it at events without issues. has anyone in virginia done this or know the general consensus? just trying to figure out if i should cave and get the Home Food Processing license lol submitted by /u/Valuable-While6974 to r/Virginia [link] [comments]

Hello /r/Austin ! I moved to Austin from North Carolina on January 4th, and I absolutely love it here. I’ve lived a very sedentary lifestyle for a long time. Working at a computer desk, sitting most of the day, and being morbidly obese. Back where I'm from, you don't have to walk more than a block for anything. Even the busiest bars had parking right out front. I came to Austin for three main reasons: To get better as a comic. I wanted more at-bats at open mics, to meet better comics, and to really learn the craft. The city itself. The parks, Barton Springs, the beautiful surrounding areas. Everything I saw online about Austin screamed at me to get here. A second chance at life. Doing what you've always done will get you what you've always gotten. I knew if I stayed where I was, how I was, nothing would change. When I first got here, it was a harsh reality check. I realized I couldn't even get to some of these comedy venues without paying for an Uber solely because I was too out of shape to walk a few blocks from a parking spot. Seriously heartbreaking shit. I didn't want to miss out on every venue on Dirty 6th or every experience that required a little walking. So, I made a change. On December 30th, right before the drive down, I stopped drinking. Four weeks ago, I gave up soda, fast food, and the junk. I was 442 lbs and barely able to walk a block without getting winded. This past Saturday, having dropped down to 417 lbs, I decided to test myself. I parked by the gas station on I-35 and walked to the Creek and the Cave, then to the Velv, then to GnarBar. I stopped at every comedy spot on the way. Walked to the Vulcan to watch a show, went back to the Creek to shoot some basketball, and then finally walked back to my car. I was shocked I was able to do all of that without really losing my breath too much. It gave me the confidence to finally start doing the stuff I came here to do. The biggest thing on my list right now is seeing the bats under the bridge. I feel like this is an experience I need to have. My first question: Are there groups for this? Where exactly do I need to be, and how do I know when to be there? My second question: What else do I need to experience here in Austin that I might not know about? I want to do it all. Thanks to Austin for giving me a second chance at life, especially when a few years ago, I wasn't sure if I cared enough to even participate in it (life) anymore. TL:DR; New to town, can now walk better, what do I need to see and do? submitted by /u/thefreeze1 to r/Austin [link] [comments]

We just bought a ~100 year old house, and while I adore this vintage tile, the grout looks to be in shambles. At first I thought it was just very dirty & tried to clean it with baking soda & bar keepers friends, but it didn’t make much of a difference… then I realized the grout (?) actually looks like it’s chipping away and revealing cement below it, which is leading to it looking extra dirty and sad. Any idea on how I can make this look nice again? Hoping it’s salvageable! submitted by /u/crow-lady to r/Tile [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/macbubs to r/Omaha [link] [comments]

I’m so tired of seeing everybody resorting to saying that Bar Keepers Friend (BKF) is the first and only answer to every stainless cleaning question. Don't get me wrong, I also love and recommend BFK and it has certainly gotten me out of a jam now and then. But the overwhelming consensus (and running joke) in this community seems to be that if you can't get the grime out with dish soap and a sponge, then you immediately have to resort to whipping out the BKF, which is just a very unnecessary escalation in firepower. Just as an example, look at the 1st before/after picture of my 3qt sauté. I had just used it for some pommes fondant, and this particular recipe called for reducing the stock & browned butter until it was nigh on burnt. I guarantee you that any commenter on here who saw the “dirty” pic would just tell me to pull out the good ol' BKF. But in less than 3 minutes, I had this pan looking like new without any BKF. So all I am saying is that maybe we don't always need to bring a freaking racehorse to the petting zoo, and stop recommending the nuclear option for every single mess. I get it, BKF has powerful solutes and scrubbing compounds that will eat at tough stains with ease, but it also comes at the cost of unnecessarily exposing your beautiful finishes to powerful acids and abrasives on a routine basis. The reality is that every time you use BKF in your stainless pan, you are removing material and altering the surface; I'm not saying that this affects the function of the product, but why permanently mar up your steel if you don't have to? In my novice years, I was also given the "sound advice" of using BKF on my stainless, but I quickly noticed how it would leave dulled spots in otherwise polished and beautiful exteriors, and the inner cooking surfaces would show swirl marks in their machined grain patterns. To some this may be a non-issue, as they see their cookware as a workhorse and not an ornament, and that's completely fine and I won't pass judgement. For people like me, maintaining the beauty of quality cookware is a part of the joy that their use brings me. With those priorities in mind, I did a lot of experimenting with different cleaning regimens to identify the most effective way to keep my cookware looking like-new without resorting to powerful acids and abrasives. Ultimately, I have found that simply scrubbing with a blue non-scratch sponge and a paste made of baking soda+water is perfectly capable of removing all but the most heinous polymerized oils. The shearing power of the baking soda paste removes any and all gunk that likes to cling to the stainless surface without leaving behind any scratches or dulling, and then a quick rinse off and then spray down with basic 5% distilled vinegar helps to remove the final residue and water stains in seconds (I also like to add about 1.5% citric acid granules to the vinegar bottle by weight, which helps make the cleaning action a bit more effective, but this is absolutely not required). This cleaning regimen is dirt-freaking-cheap, fast, and it means I don’t need to cover my sink and counters with oxalic acid and gritty abrasives all the time. Every other before/after pic on here is from this cleaning method and didn't need BKF at all. It doesn’t require any more elbow grease or time than the BKF does; all you have to do is make sure to work with the grain and it’ll pull any grime right out of there. Even pans with older buildup (like my wife’s 2qt Calphalon saucepan) will shine right up with this method. Now I will admit that there are certainly some jobs that do require BKF, and those are usually when you have really burnt-on oils and/or bronzing to your pan because you weren’t managing your heat, or maybe something dripped down under the pan and scorched on the bottom. I will occasionally use Bar Keepers Friend liquid soft cleanser to scrub the undersides of my pans, because they get scratched anyway, but this is extremely rare, and you can see that I definitely put my pans to work and I don’t just stare at them on the wall all day. I get it; not everybody out there is as obsessed as I am about keeping their cookware in pristine cosmetic condition, but I just wanted to throw it out there that this community’s obsession with BKF (while it CAN be a lifesaver), is a bit misleading. TL;DR — Bar Keepers Friend is over-prescribed. If you're like me and don't want to dull/scratch your stainless pans, baking soda/water paste removes gunk, and distilled vinegar removes mineral stains. submitted by /u/dirty_ketchup to r/StainlessSteelCooking [link] [comments]

DOUBLE grey goose dirty dry martinis… it wouldn’t fit in a martini glass… a double martini at my bar is 6oz of alcohol.. submitted by /u/Hash_connoisseur710 to r/bartenders [link] [comments]

Update below: Just discovered this sub and a post from yesterday inspired me to share my story: Few years ago went to a wedding for a friend. The wedding was a disaster in almost every way and deserves its own (long) post, but I’m just going o focus on one aspect of it. The groom (mid 20s) did not have a lot of friends, and practically no close friends which made getting groomsmen a challenge. It ended up mainly being the wife picking her guy friends, including me, and the best man. The best man (Mac) and the bride (Alice) were childhood friends who on the surface had a really close friendship, but anyone who paid attention could tell the guy was in love with her. The bride definitely knew this and should have had a conversation with him, but she didn’t and in my opinion that was on purpose. To be fair, Mac and and Alice had a great relationship with each other, had a ton of inside jokes, knew each other inside and out, and were genuinely good friends with each other. But the thing is, she seemed to have a better relationship with him compared to the groom. In group settings they would be talking and joking with each other the entire time while the groom was mainly just there. It was an open secret that the wedding party/their friends thought that Mac and Alice should be getting married since their relationship seemed so much more genuine and loving than with the groom. Now I know what everyone is thinking, and no to my knowledge and judgement there was no infidelity going on. Alice confided in me that she did not find Mac remotely attractive, and I guess there’s other reasons she didn’t get in to. And apparently Mac professed his feelings years before the wedding, but she shot him down and they “worked it out”. My opinion, she liked having a part time simp who can fill in the emotional gaps left by her soon to be husband. Fast forward to the wedding, ceremony and cocktail hour finished up and now it’s time for the speeches from the maid of honor and the best man. Maid of honor went first and delivered her speech, textbook maid of honor speech talking about how well she knew the bride and much they love each other and how happy she is to see her on her wedding day, etc. Then came the best man, and as soon as he starts he’s already having his voice crack. He proceeds to spend the next 5 minutes detailing his experiences with Alice and how close they are and how important she is in his life. The poor guy had to stop to compose himself twice; he was fighting tears as he described the wonderful memories they had together, how she made him feel, and how amazing she was. If whole time during the speech the bride looked so touched and happy, while everyone else looked horrified. The speech ended with him wishing her the best in her new chapter in her life, and that he’ll always be there for her with tears running down his face…. Not ONCE did the best man mention the GROOM during his speech. The groom didn’t even seem to mind. He just sat there the entire time with a blank expression on his face. The wedding went on with multiple hitches, and in the days and weeks following no one could stop talking about that best man speech and how we all felt bad for him, and couldn’t believe what we witnessed. The couple burnt a lot of bridges during the whole wedding process so no one really knows how they’re all still doing, but to my knowledge they’re still married with Mac still in the picture. UPDATE: Best man cried over the bride during his speech [directors cut] After much demand, here is the full wedding story from my post earlier this week. I’ll link the first post when it plays into the story. The PEOPLE When Alice and Dom announced their engagement, people were happy for them. They’ve been dating for a few years so it wasn’t a huge surprise when we all saw the instagram announcement. Alice was a social butterfly but when her and Dom started dating her priorities obviously shifted to her relationship. It didn’t take long for the two of them to be doing their own thing all the time. Prior to the engagement Alice introduced Dom to the friend group in an attempt to let people get to know him. Dom was rough around the edges and mainly kept to himself, so it was hard to relate to him. He wouldn’t engage in conversations and when he did, it was quick one word answers. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, it was more of disinterest. It was obvious that no one really vibed with Dom. No one actively disliked him, but often he blurred the lines of “joking around” with simply being a dick with people when he occasionally opened up. More importantly the guy also drank way too much which made him more of a dick, and caused additional issues. Looking back at this time I was worried maybe we were being rude by not loving Dom, but who wants to spend time with a guy who’ll either just sit there and not engage, or drink too much and start making fun of the people he’s around? A lot of the following story doesn’t involve Dom as simply he took a backseat to everything. Since Dom had no real friends, I was asked to be a groomsmen since I was friendly with the bride. I was surprised as I wasn’t a close friend, but I happily accepted as it was my first time being asked. When the wedding party roster was filled, I was kinda surprised as no one minus one of the bridesmaids, and the best man (from my previous post) was actually close with the couple. Even the maid of honor was surprised to be asked for that role as she also only considered her to be an acquaintance. Apparently they lost a lot of friends over the years so they were scraping the bottom of the barrel. Alice had 3 other really close girl friends who I was shocked weren’t bridesmaids. I assumed there had to be legitimate reasons for it, but I talked to one of them at the wedding and she was on the verge of tears telling me how sad she was that she wasn’t asked to be a bridesmaid and had no idea why. Similar with the other friend. As soon as the engagement hit, Alice distanced herself from them out of nowhere. One thing which I loved the idea of was that both the bride and the groom individually scheduled getting meals with everyone in the wedding party to reconnect. This was spread out over a month or so so everyone got to do a 1 on 1 meal with both the bride and groom. With my two dinners, they both picked the restaurant, and my meals went well but both times conveniently had to go right before the bill came. And in my meal with Dom, the guy ordered so much alcohol that it was more than the food cost. I asked the other wedding party members and unsurprisingly, similar things happened to them too. In fact, another groomsman told me that when he went out with Dom he ordered lobster saying “I can treat myself since you’re paying” before even discussing the bill. Going into the meals I was ready and happy to cover the whole bill, but the fact how they planned out getting free meals was really trashy. This avoidance to pay leads into… THE MONEY: One thing the bride made clear was that the budget wasn’t that big. No issue there, some of the best weddings I been to were low budget. But the bride was unsubtly very self conscious about it, as she would constantly bring it up. I recall all of us attempting to help with some planning with suggestions that’ll keep costs down, but Alice would have none of it. She wanted to plan her own wedding, and wouldn’t take any suggestions. But she was happy to remind everyone how they’re paying it all out of their pocket and should be praised for it. Alice flirted with the idea of instead of invites to the wedding, they’d be tickets… which you’d have to buy to attend the wedding… thankfully for everyone Alice’s begrudgingly changed her mind after her parents talked her out of it. Rumor has it, they didn’t mind potentially upsetting some people with this idea because it was the way to find out who their “true friends”. From what I heard the ticket price was going to be around $50/person before the idea was pulled. Apparently Alice was so dead set on doing this that that she resented her parents for talking her out of it. The entire wedding planning process I could tell their relationship had been strained and this was the main cause. Sometime after this, the wedding invite list was purged to remove 50 people. The wedding invites had already been sent out at this point so it was awkward. But the ridiculous thing was that couple wanted the party to help her decide who to uninvite, and wanted US to be the ones reaching out and telling people they weren’t invited anymore. This is because, and I quote “if it comes from us they might be mad at us and not get us a gift”. Even if you ignore the fact that they wanted to use their wedding party to do their dirty work, we didn’t even know most of the people on her invite list. Imagine getting a text/email from some random person you don’t know telling you that you’re no longer invited to a wedding? Needless to say, no one in the wedding party volunteered and the next day those of us that had a plus one got them taken away in what I can only assume was a “punishment”. As the wedding day came closer, the couple started acting more and more unhinged. Alice canceled the bachelor and bachelorette trip (which the wedding party planned and were going to pay for) and told us just to give her the money so she can use it for her wedding instead. And this included “the money you would spend on food and souvenirs” as it’ll make “everyone’s experience at the wedding more enjoyable.” This caused some fighting as people already took off work, made arrangements for childcare, and so on for the trip. But they didn’t care. They wanted the money instead of the trip. It wasn’t even a huge expensive trip, it was a weekend cabin getaway. The trip was cancelled, only the best man gave the couple money, and before you know it the weekend the trip was planned we see on Instagram that couple was in Vegas alone. After throwing engagement party, and a bridal shower, they threw a last minute Jack and Jill party in an attempt to get more gifts/money. I know this because the bride bluntly said that was the purpose of this new party. That alone irked me. But this upcoming bit of information bothered me more… since money was tight for the wedding, a reminder that there were people who got invited but got uninvited. It happens, what are you going to do. But it was Alice’s idea to purposefully invite these people so that she can still get money/gifts from them. I called her out on this but she said I “don’t understand what it’s like to throw a wedding and that everyone does it.” Day of the party, only 1 of the formerly uninvited people showed up, and they didn’t bring a gift. The food there sucked too. One of the bridesmaids (Kay) was also engaged and got married a month before Alice and Dom’s wedding, and this caused drama between her and Alice. Kay and her fiance both came from wealthy families, and they were both independently wealthy so they throw an insane wedding. But Kay was the most humble person ever and did not even mention her wedding in front of Alice knowing this. Alice however, went out of her way to always compare her wedding plans to Kay’s and making Kay feel uncomfortable. After Kay’s wedding Alice accused her of pumping more wedding into her wedding in an attempt to be better than Alice’s. This behavior was constant, and led Kay to drop out of being a bridesmaid. Alice BEGGED her to stay while apologizing which Kay reluctantly agreed to. Very quick vignette without a ton of details due to length: us wedding party people + a few other people discovered that Alice was starting rumors to get each other mad at each other, but would then offer to talk to the other person to “help fix things”. A good example of this was Alice telling Kay that I hated her husband’s actions during her wedding, but that’s she talked me into calming down and not mentioning in it. Kay talked to me directly about this (since we’re adults and not in high school) and I had no idea what she was talking about as her husband is a close childhood friend and we had the time of our lives at their wedding. Similar instances happened with other people too, with Alice saying something completely false but saying she already “fixed” it by talking to the other person. I asked the best man Mac what the heck was going on, and all I was able to get out of him was that Alice “means well and just wants to be there for us if we’re having problems with each other”. But it sure felt a lot more of Alice trying to tear us all apart. REHEARSAL DINNER: We all go to the rehearsal dinner the day before the wedding. The rehearsal wasn’t at the venue and instead was at some tiny church on practically the other side of the state which was a long and drive for all of us. The church’s layout was completely different than the venue, and the couple had no connection to this church. To this day I have no idea why we went there. Rehearsal started at 6 and we ended 45 minutes later and the couple said thanks and dismissed us…. I spoke up and said what about dinner, and Alice responded “oh we didn’t plan on feeding you guys, but there’s a few places around here if you wanted to get dinner”. Mind you, this was advertised as a “rehearsal dinner”, and we all drove over an hour to the middle of nowhere to do this thing which started at 6pm. I think Alice quickly read the room and realized we were all about to bail on the wedding itself cuz we were so sick of her shit, so she backtracked and said she’ll figure it out. An hour later we were eating’ subs from a local grocery store. WEDDING DAY You couldn’t have asked for better weather on this day. High 70’s low 80s, no humidity, not a cloud in the sky, very slight breeze, absolutely beautiful. It was a shame cuz we didn’t get to enjoy it. I pulled up to the venue at the requested time of 90 minutes before the ceremony and ran into another groomsman. I immediately commented on the weather. Groomsman cut me off and told me to shush, and not mention the weather to Alice as they didn’t go for the outdoor wedding package to save money. This was new information for all of us and no one knew this until now. 10 minutes prior the other groomsman commented on the weather and got berated by Alice for “money shaming her”. I later found out the difference in payment for the outdoor (with a refund for rain) vs indoor wedding was $250, which for a June wedding, is worth it imo, but it’s not my wedding and not my money so i won’t judge for that. But to yell at people for commenting on the weather? The venue also had no air conditioning, and the thick floor to ceiling windows acted as a green house which locked the heat which later on made things uncomfortable. So the wedding party shows up 90 minutes early, dressed in our wedding attire to a venue which was not set up for anything. The lovely couple didn’t wanna pay the venue to set up the chairs or any decorations so they decided to ambush their wedding party with that responsibility. We reluctantly and quickly set up the venue with Alice micromanaging the entire time. On the wedding party groupchat (which did not include the couple) we all decided to be bigger people and just put up with them for one more day), so we shut up and did the work. We all get nice and sweaty putting everything together, but I was proud of us for doing a good job so quickly. The ceremony and reception took place in the same room, which meant that the room was set up with round tables for the reception, and the alter was at one the the walls. I’ll happily criticize this as this means that for the ceremony, more than half the people need to adjust their seats just so they can face the right direction. Ceremony starts, there was no dress code on the wedding invites so people are dressed all over the spectrum. From people in tailored suits, to people in jeans and sneakers. Quite funny to see. The photographer and videographer were good. They were mobile, getting any angle you can think of, had quality equipment, and were definitely professionals. Only issue, was that they were both over 6’, built like linebackers, and did not wear the invisibility cloak from Harry Potter. During the ceremony they were flowing throughout the room as they were doing their thing, 3 different guests from different parts of the room (they were all very old) kept shouting “I cAnT SeE!!” or “YoUrE BloCkINg My viEw!” Whenever one of photographers would get in front of a guest to get a shot. The pictures ended up being great so props to them on that at least. (Edit: rereading before I post, I cannot emphasize enough how often we heard someone interrupt the ceremony to complain about their view. It was mainly due to the photographer/videographer blocking views, but due tot he size and layout of the room some people had terrible viewing angles. We noticed this problem while setting up the room and were going to pull some chairs away from the tables and closer to the middle so they’ll have better views, but we were told not to as it would ruin the shots and make it look “tacky”. Wedding was supposed to start at 2. At 2:25 we get signal from the mother of the bride that they’re ready to start. So we all get into our positions and quiet the crowd. And promptly at 2:51 (there was a wall clock on the wall where the bride was coming out of which I was staring at the whole time) the bridesmaids and bride finally come out to the tune of the Superman theme song. At this point we’re all already feeling uncomfortable with the stagnant hot air in the room. The ceremony was longer than it should have been, the brides family considered themselves musicians, and performed 3 separate 4+ minute original songs which were varying levels of bad, but they had help from certain members of the audience as you heard the occasional (un)harmonized “I cAnT SeE!!” Throughout the songs which added some flavor. The bride’s vows went on and on and on, while the groom’s vows were 2-3 lines which he didn’t memorize. The groom looked like he didn’t even want to be there and was going through the motions. Bride and groom kissed, yay, we’re almost done. Cue the speeches and my original post here: https://www.reddit.com/r/weddingshaming/s/gG7vMFKPRf THE COCKTAIL HOUR/BEVERAGES The finger good was good, but the issue came with the drinks. It was a dry wedding (but no one bothered to tell the groom as he was hitting a flask the entire reception) but unlike other dry weddings I’ve been to, there was no attempt to even pretend to have any effort for the drinks. No mocktails, or anything. The drink situation was this: those boxed 24 packs of sodas you’ll get from a grocery store sitting on the counter, still in the boxes. They were all store brand, warm, and mainly flat. It was like it was sitting in a car for a few weeks. There was a bowl of ice and some solo cups, but the ice was put out before the ceremony was supposed to start so by the time of the cocktail hour it was a bowl of water. Mind you, we’re all in a non air conditioned greenhouse so we’re all dying. There was no additional ice. I was going to go to a nearby gas station to get ice, but an uncle of the groom offered instead and left… he never came back. Besides the soda, there was a water fountain, and a k-cup machine for coffee. Now one of the best weddings I’ve been to was a “cooler full of soda/beer” event so I am not shaming the budget, I’m shaming putting zero effort into it. THE FOOD Food was pretty great, not going to lie. It was catered by a family friend who had a Greek restaurant. Very good, 10/10, best part of the wedding. RECEPTION/DANCING No DJ or band for the wedding, just a Spotify playlist. Now, this may be controversial but imo having a DJ or band automatically makes your reception better than if you didn’t have one. You can have a banger playlist, and I’ve been to weddings where I had a great time without a DJ don’t get me wrong, but having someone who can read the room and adjust the music on the fly, and can skip over a song’s slow build up when necessary is an underrated part of any reception. Unfortunately for everyone this playlist didn’t even try. The bride made the wedding playlist with no input from anyone else. Which, fine, it’s your day, you have every right to control the music how you want. But, she was adamant on having people be dancing and having a good time to the point where she was going to tables and rudely asking them why they weren’t dancing. Not ignoring the fact that it was so uncomfortably hot in there and we’re all sober and full of delicious Greek food, the music was horrible. There was not a single “dance” song on that entire playlist. I find out later that the bride didn’t want songs like “the wobble, cha cha slide, Macarena, Cupid shuffle, etc” because she thought they were trashy, and thought most pop music was satanic. So imagine getting dragged to the dance floor by the bride to try to get down to Clocks by Coldplay… How exactly do you get jiggy with it to Karma Police? Anyone know how to tear up the dance floor to Its My Life by Bon Jovi? The best part of any reception is a circle forming around people break dancing to Pink Houses by John Melloncamp, right?!? After like 45 minutes of awkwardly being on the sweaty dance floor as the third power ballad in a row came on, people started to leave. It was one of those things whereas soon as the first people left, a tidal wave of everyone else leaving came after. The father of the bride started taking down the decorations and asked for help, I wanted to avoid the angry looking Alice who was beginning to argue with Dom over something so I happily assisted. We put everything in their boxes and caught up with the remaining members of the wedding party. At this point there was only a handful of family left besides us, and the couple was nowhere to be found. According to the father of the bride, Alice, Dom, Mac, and the mother of the bride were “talking” in the changing room. The dad gave us a heartfelt thank you to us for everything and said that there’s no point for us to stay as practically everyone left at that point. We helped him load up his truck with some of the equipment he brought. We were all went back inside to say goodbye to the couple, but as we came to the changing room door all we heard was muffled yelling between everyone in there so we figured it’s best not to go in there. We all went to a bar and got some drinks to decompress. Unsurprisingly we found a lot of people from the wedding there, enjoying the AC and cold drinks. FINAL THOUGHTS After writing this all down I realized that there are much worse wedding disasters on this sub, but it was the buildup which made everything worse. The venue being hot and muggy while we had virtually nothing to cool off with made emotions high, and maybe in a world where there was AC it wouldn’t have been so bad. I’m happy the couple isn’t in my life anymore, but I honestly hope they have a healthy and happy marriage and life together. I’m sure in their version of this me and the wedding party are the villains who ruined their special day, but hey that’s life. submitted by /u/angry_jets_fan to r/weddingshaming [link] [comments]

https://www.ksl.com/article/51323631/gop-lawmaker-threatens-significant-legislation-after-mammoth-jazz-celebrate-pride-month submitted by /u/traveler132 to r/Utah [link] [comments]

So, I got into a fight with two people tonight. The reason in itself was very dumb, but God, I was just tired of it. I met up today with two friends, Clara and Jenny (fake names). We went out to a bar and sat on one of the tables outside. There was a TV on the bar, so there were many people watching a football match with different drinks. We got our drinks and after a while, a man came, left his drink on our table and left. We looked at each other like "What the hell, the bar is literally five feet apart" and there weren't even that many people. He could've easily put his glass there instead of on our table, but whatever. We kept talking and drinking and after a while there was another man who left his finished drink at our table. "I can leave this here, right?" he asked, didn't even wait for our answer and left. Again, what the hell, we were annoyed, but whatever. Then, came a polite guy and he asked us if he could leave his drink on our table for a bit because he was waiting for a friend, it was cold and his hands were freezing. We said yeah, of course you can, man, no worries. He even offered to put it on the floor if it annoyed us but we had no problem with it. Gave the drink to his friend, thanked us, then they left. And after a while, another drink was left in our table. The guy didn't even look at us, he just put it there and it was obvious it wasn't finished. So, I had enough. It may seem petty, but you aren't sitting in this table, therefore you don't use it. If he had asked us if he could leave it there for a moment like the previous guy, we would have had no problem, but he didn't. Rude. So, I took the drink, got up, walked towards him and offered it to him. Me: Excuse me, this is yours. Him: What the... is it bothering you that much? Me: Yeah, it is. It hasn't been the first time and we aren't the bar. If you're finished with your drink, the bar is five feet apart from you. A friend of his took the man's drink and put both his and his friend's drink on our table to piss us off. So, I got up, grabbed the drinks and took them to the bar. I knew they weren't finished and I knew they'd be annoyed, but that's what happens when I run out of patience, I don't care anymore. They said I was being ridiculous while I walked away and when I came back, Clara was yelling at one of them and tugging on one of the men's arm. I then saw she had my umbrella on her hand and I realized that while I was returning the drinks, they had tried to steal my umbrella and Clara was getting it back for me. Jenny had been in shock, but at that she started arguing as well. They got more and more rude, saying how we had no manners when I had been nothing but polite with them. It was only when they yelled at us that we started to yell back at them. We kept telling them it wasn't their table and that if it was only for a moment they could've asked us and we wouldn't have minded at all. At one point, to piss us off one of them got dirty cans that had been on the floor and put them on our table. I threw them away while still arguing with them. One of their friends apologized to us and looked so embarrassed. They went away for a bit and one of them came back for more, until we pointed out how he was a grown 50 year old man harassing and arguing with women in their 20s over a table and a drink. The friend that had been supporting knew at that moment that they were embarrassing themselves, because he came back and told him "Come on, man, you're an adult". If you wanna watch the football match on the TV, then fine. And if you wanna get a drink and there aren't any tables left, then that's a you problem. If they had asked like the third polite guy, we wouldn't have minded, but instead they blew it up because that's how drunk and bored they were. There were even people on our side telling them to leave us alone. I feel a bit silly now that I have a more clear head for how I behaved but God, I was just so tired of people using our table as if it was theirs at that moment. I never insulted them, btw, when I say I screamed at them I mean that I kept remarking how it was our table and to leave us alone. Edit 1: I'm seeing a lot of comments saying the staff should have done something or wondering why we didn't tell the staff. First of all, in my country, there aren't bouncers at bars, they are at discos. The concept of drinking here is very different to the American one. In my country, it's very normal to see parents drinking peacefully at a bar while their children play on a nearby park or for their children to join them and have a soda or a non-alocoholic drink. It's normal for people to be at a bar with friends at 11 am on a Saturday and having a drink with them. Second, most people who were outside drinking would go to the bar, get the drink, pay for it, then leave and drink it outside. Finally, it was busier inside than outside and there weren't many workers, and the ones who were working were doing everything at once with some of them acting as both waiters and as bartenders. It wasn't very crowded but there were still a lot of people they had to take care of. They probably didn't even see nor hear what was going on outside due to how many people were inside. They were just two drunk idiotic men and we were able to handle them. It all happened pretty fast anyway. Edit 2: I've seen some people say that it's a public table. We weren't at the long bar table, where people usually leave their drinks so that the bartenders can get them from the other side to clean them. We were outside, at a small square table and said table had four chairs for people to sit down on. Imagine you go to a restaurant to have lunch with your family, you get served your first plate and a stranger suddenly puts his drink on your table. That's the kind of table we were on, but smaller. submitted by /u/BlueDandellion to r/EntitledPeople [link] [comments]

I'm somewhat new to this area, and everyone seems to love Soda Bar. Is it worth it/good? I've had dirty soda before (lots of family in Utah and lived there a while) so I'm wondering if it's good (nice to have a taste of home, and something to treat family to if they come visit.) submitted by /u/anonymousnosey to r/Appleton [link] [comments]

So, with the holidays coming up, everyone is thinking about how fat and miserable they’ll feel by the New Year. You know how it goes. It starts innocently with a fun size Snickers bar, or two…or five while loading up the treat bucket. Then the kids go trick-or-treating and you suddenly have a boatload of delicious, potentially razor-blade stuffed goodies that MUST be inspected for safety. “Oh look…Skittles. I’m gonna taste the rainbow...” Then comes pre-Thanksgiving. That’s right, I said “pre.” This is the time when everyone is shaking the rust off their mediocre baking skills and suddenly the office is inundated with peanut butter fudge, rum balls, and peanut brittle. Damn I love peanut brittle. “Just one more piece. Just break off a small one. Oops. Didn’t break off, and now I’ve touched the entire chunk. I have to eat it. Frank’s grandmother baked all of this and she’s really old. It could be her last holiday season ya know. This brittle can’t go to waste!” Then, Thanksgiving at the office. Catered, and loaded with all the goodies. “Oh no. We’ve accidentally ordered 72 extra pies. We’ll just leave them in the break room and they’ll get eaten.” And you know they will… Then it’s the real Thanksgiving, and suddenly it’s ancient Rome again, with the whole family participating in a nonstop binge and purge cycle, or just taking a dump and coming back to the table to reload. Pre-Christmas, Christmas, New Year’s parties, Football games. The list goes on. And then comes self-loathing. The misery, the belly shaking in the mirror and firm resolve to get your fat ass on a diet…Monday. Just cheat through the weekend and start fresh. I mean…it’s only Wednesday now, but who can start a diet on Wednesday? No one, that’s who. So there we were…already up to September and approaching the holiday glut at breakneck speed. After much discussion amongst my peers we decided to get a head start on the holidays and drop some weight BEFORE the madness begins. Then if we gain it all back, we end up ok for the year. No more guilt, shame, and negative self-talk. It all evened out. So we went for it. It was time to do this. A WEIGHT LOSS CONTEST. And here we are, a few weeks into this thing. It’s me (Andrea), Morgan from the Collections Department, Kim from Shipping and Receiving, my I.T. Department cubicle neighbors Jim and Tanner, and Peggy from…I don’t know where. I’m not sure what Peggy’s actual job is, but she sits close enough to me that I can hear pretty much everything she does. And you know what Peggy does seemingly endlessly? Eat. That girl is ALWAYS shoving something down her gullet. I can’t even tell you how many times I hear a chip bag opening or cellophane crinkling as she opens snack cakes and God knows what else. She’s a big girl, and one of those giggly types, laughing at her own comments. She reminds me of a younger version of the school secretary in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Her day is seemingly spent taking personal phone calls and giving attitude to anyone who approaches her with something work related. I swear, it’s like her only reason to be here is to eat and scroll through her facebook feed. She’s just plain annoying, and I’m looking forward to taking her $50.00. That’s the game. 50 bucks each, into a pool with the winner taking all. We do pounds lost, calculated as a percentage of bodyweight lost. Here are the starting numbers. Me – 167lbs Morgan – 186lbs Kim – 152lbs Jim – 244lbs Tanner – 192lbs Peggy – 376lbs…and counting. I bet her scale moves up nonstop, kinda like the power meter outside my house. So, I’ve been chronicling this whole adventure and something is up. Everyone was moving along, but Peggy was CRUSHING it. We were totally getting our asses handed to us…but now, something has changed. Something has gone wrong. I kept a log for a few weeks, so let me share some of the highlights with you then we’ll pick back up with the current situation. ​ Diet contest log – Week 1, 9/16/19 to 9/20/19 ​ -Monday – We did our initial weigh-in today. Peggy came in at 376 pounds. I knew there was no way she would stand a chance with her eating habits. No stinking way. Then at the end of the day I heard her telling someone on the phone that she had already lost 3lbs? WTF? I heard cellophane crinkling all day and watched her grating half a pound of cheese over a plate of home fries from the greasy burger place down the street. There’s only one explanation for this…she must have taken a humongous dump sometime before getting back on that scale. -Tuesday – I’m hungry. Morgan’s hungry. Everyone is hungry. I hear the munching sounds of kale salads, raw broccoli and carrots, and the tops popping off of low sodium soup cans. The microwave is alive with Healthy Choice frozen meals, and the soda machine gently weeps. Peggy’s cubicle got TWO deliveries via GrubHub. The first was Chinese, and a couple hours later some cupcakes—half a dozen, to be exact-- from a gourmet place across town. Then another hour later, I heard her tear open a sleeve of Ritz crackers. How did I know they were Ritz? How do you know the sound of your own children’s voices? Exactly. -Wednesday- I hit the scale this morning. I’m down 2.2lbs. I know it’s just water weight at this point, but it’s encouraging. The way Peggy’s eating, she’s screwed. Morgan is down 2 also, Kim is down 1, Tanner has dropped 3lbs, and Jim is UP 2lbs. Poor Jim…he loves beer. Holy shit. Peggy and Kim just came back from the scales. Peggy has dropped another 6lbs! What the hell!!?? How is this even happening? Maybe she has a tape worm. Where does one get a tapeworm anyway? Asking for a friend… -Thursday- Peggy is killing me. This behavior will have to catch up to her soon. Just wrapped up a large meat lover’s pizza all by herself, a couple hours after a Grubhub delivery of a full pancake and sausage breakfast with biscuits and gravy on the side. I don’t even know where the hell she’s putting all this food! Wow. Just wow. I literally right this moment am listening to her peel back the cover on a full size bag of double stuffed Oreos. I know that creepy sound anywhere…because I love Oreos more than life. -Friday- This is insanity. Peggy and her witness just came back from the scale. Down another 6lbs. That’s FIFTEEN pounds lost this week, in 4.5 days. It’s no lie. I literally can see her clothes loosening up. She’s shrinking. On a related note, she’s been burning incense in her cubicle. I really don’t mind the smell, as it reminds me of this hippie guy I dated in college and he was always a sweetheart…although his bathing habits needed work. Anyway…she’s burning the incense and I could SWEAR I’m hearing her whisper-praying, or chanting or something. Maybe I’m losing my mind. Who knows? ​ Diet contest log – Week 2, 9/23/19 to 9/27/19 ​ -Monday- We’re at the second week. Here is where everyone stands coming off of the weekend. Me -4lbs Morgan -3lbs Kim -2lbs Tanner -3lbs, so no change from Friday. I think he had a family get-together on Saturday and cheated a bit. Jim +1lbs…which means he lost a pound over the weekend, but it was one of the pounds he gained AFTER the contest started. Still, progress is progress, right? Peggy -21lbs Yeah. TWENTY-ONE POUNDS. That’s not a typo. She lost an additional 6 over the weekend! I don’t even know what to say here. I’m just at a loss for words. We’ve been quietly whispering about it amongst ourselves. When Peggy went to the bathroom, Morgan searched her cubicle and purse for diet pills. Nothing. The only thing out of the ordinary is that incense burner and some kind of little rag doll thing that bears a creepy resemblance to Peggy. It’s a chubby little thing just like its owner, but Peggy’s got rubber bands around it, squeezing it into a smaller size. Weird. Tuesday -Peggy’s dietary onslaught continues. She pounded a burger from a place downtown that is so big you get a t-shirt just for finishing it. I’m sure there’s no shirt available that will fit her. She even ate the fries and drank a milkshake. I’m just waiting for her to throw up right there in her cubicle. -Ok it’s 20 minutes later now and she’s got the Oreo’s out again! WHERE IS ALL THIS FOOD GOING? - It’s 2:00pm and Kim and I just got back from our daily walk to burn off some calories. I’m sure I was totally overloaded with energy to burn after a lunch of two and a half celery sticks and a tablespoon of peanut butter. Anyway…we walked behind the building, and halfway down the alley was Peggy, bent over with her suspiciously shrinking ass in the air and her head in the passenger side window of a ratty looking black station wagon. We hopped back quickly and cautiously peeked around the corner of the building to see what she was up to. We figured it was just GrubHub, but no…she pulled some cash from her pocket, reached into the car, and when her hand came back out it had a brown paper lunch bag with some kind of writing on it in a language I didn’t recognize. She went back into the building as the shady station wagon slowly creeped down the alley, and we quickly finished our lap to get back to the office. Kim snuck around behind Peggy and snapped some pictures of what she was taking out of the bag. I kid you not, it was one of those little things you put in a bowl of water and it grows huge. I used to have a few, like a little alligator the size of a Hot Wheels car that grew about six inches long after being submerged. They were pretty fun, but this was no alligator…it was Peggy. A VERY tiny Peggy. We walked by her cubicle after she went home for the day and there it was, sitting in a bowl of water and already swelling up. This is really getting weird. Wednesday Ok, so around 10:00am Peggy went out to the front door of the office to meet the GrubHub guy bringing her brunch, so we took a look at the little Peggy in the bowl. It had grown tremendously. This was a full size glass mixing bowl and that thing had swollen so much that the arms and legs were hanging over the sides, slowly dripping the slimy water onto the desk. As a comparison, I would say it’s about the size of a catcher’s mitt. I saw Peggy a short while later in the bathroom and she was dumping the bowl of water into the sink. She looked at me and immediately lowered her eyes and hurried back out into the hallway. She’s definitely up to something… Peggy also hit the scale this afternoon and was down another 10 POUNDS. TEN pounds since Monday morning??? So now she’s at 31lbs lost in about ten days. Wow. ​ \*I was on vacation time Thursday and Friday, so this log begins week three of the weight loss contest.*\** ​ Diet contest log – Week 3, 9/30/19 to 10/4/19 ​ Monday -I came in early today to do some snooping. The Peggy rag doll was still on the desk, and it was wrapped so tightly in rubber bands that it could get no smaller. Now it was just laying off to the side, looking discarded. The real attraction was still the little Peggy water swelling thing. It had been lying on the desk since Wednesday, so over the course of almost five days it had shrunk by about 15%. I don’t recall my toys lasting that long in the shrinking process, but it’s 25 years later now so I’m sure shrinking alligator technology has improved a bit. -At 9:13am, someone walked by me and went to Peggy’s cubicle and started rustling around. It’s not normal to see strangers around here, so I stood up slightly to get a look. Holy crapola, it was Peggy! Had she not been laying out an army of snacks on her desk, I wouldn’t have even recognized her. She had lost even more weight, and to such a degree that she looked like a different person. She looked up and saw me, and to distract her from realizing I had been spying, I asked how much weight she was down. She made a little grin, then skipped over and grabbed Kim to go be her witness at the scale. I shit you not, she came back with the number. 51.8lbs. She had lost 51.8lbs since Wednesday. Let that sink in. She was already down 31lbs, so that put her weight at 345lbs as of Wednesday. So now, she’s down another 51.8. That puts her at 293.2. Ok, my 5th grade brain just sent me a Bat Signal, suggesting I do some math on this thing. Peggy was at 345 on Wednesday, and we already established that today she’s down another 51.8. You know what 51.8 is? It’s 15% of 345. Please don’t check the math. I’m really shitty at math. That little gelatinous thing on her desk is 15% smaller since Wednesday. And the REAL Peggy is 15% smaller since Wednesday. Uhhh… So, obviously this has become a race for second place, but regardless, here are the end-of-Monday weigh-in results as we start week three. Me -6lbs Morgan -7lbs Kim -3lbs Jim -4lbs Tanner -5lbs Peggy - 82.8lbs Tuesday -It’s about 1:00pm and Peggy just let out an overly dramatic scream. We all ran over to see what was wrong, and she looked fine. But, she was RED faced like I’ve never seen. I mean very, very angry and almost looked a little scared. She barely calmed down enough to tell us what was going on. Apparently the custodian had thrown away Little Peggy the shrinky thing. She ran out to the dumpster but trash collection had already been and gone. The shrinky thing is gone for good. Peggy ran off in a flurry. Kim followed at a distance and came back to report Peggy was out in the alley on a phone call, and frantic. It was a one sided listen, obviously, but Kim apparently heard her say “I need something else, right now!” and “I don’t care what it costs!” Now, at the rate she’s been going this easily could have been a chat with her favorite GrubHub driver, but I believe something a bit more interesting was at play. In the past couple hours since the incident and her subsequent phone call, I haven’t heard Peggy eating. No crinkling wrappers, no Chinese deliveries…nada. What I HAVE heard though, is a LOT of soft chanting and burning some new flavor of incense. Maybe she’s doing some sort of Tony Robbins mantra type shit, building her will to succeed. \*SIDE NOTE*** -Jim has been spending an awful lot of time at Peggy’s desk the past few days. I guess with her dropping all that weight (and no loose skin. WTF?) he’s got the hots for her. I’m guessing he wants to jump in there now and hook her in before her self-esteem really ramps up and she starts looking for someone better. Haha. Good plan, Jim. Wednesday Really, things were relatively quiet on the home front today. Jim is still at Peggy’s desk constantly, spittin’ game as best he can. She seems receptive to the attention. Still no eating sounds coming from her desk. Thursday We did a mid-morning weigh-in today. Kim is down another pound. I’m down one more, and Tanner has gained a pound. Morgan and Jim both have dropped three more. Peggy passed on the opportunity. Hmmmm… Around 1:00 I watched Peggy meet that same creepy car again in the alley. She took a big wad of cash out of her purse and again received a mysterious paper bag. I followed her as she returned to her desk, and out came one of those little hula girl bobbles that you put on your car dashboard, but this one had a little solar cell in it so it would hula dance with the power of light. She set it carefully on the desk, whipped up a little incense, did some more chanting, and flicked on the light under her shelf to get the hula girl swaying. Friday -Ok. I’m pissed about how this contest is going. I’ve been working my ass off doing cardio and dieting like a mad woman, and I should be damned proud to be down 7 pounds in three weeks, no? But three other people are kicking the crap out of me and I know for a fact they aren’t working as hard. So, I’ve been doing some real snooping and eavesdropping today. I literally have done none of the work I’m getting paid for. Today was full-on reconnaissance and I’ve followed Peggy every time she gets out of her seat. I’ve been rolling my chair as close as I could to anyone who stops by her desk, and I’ve cupped my hand to my ear constantly in a relentless effort to gather any kind of info I could about what the hell is going on. Well, a whole lot more is going on around here than a silly weight loss contest. Here’s what I’ve found out… Apparently Jim went to Peggy for advice on how to lose more weight. At first she wouldn’t tell him, but her deep desire to have real attention from a man drove her to offer him a deal instead…she tells him how to lose the weight, and in return he becomes her boyfriend. It’s that simple. Jim gets to lose weight as long as he’s satisfying Peggy’s desires for friendship, companionship, romantic gestures, and things I probably don’t want to think about. HOWEVER…Jim’s ex, Sharon, works on the other side of the big room we’re in. And Sharon is a jealous bitch, to put it mildly. At some point she’d taken notice of Jim’s regular visits to see Peggy, so she’s been watching Peggy’s cubicle like a hawk. She’s even gone over there a few times to shoot the breeze, asking Peggy about her diet success, her love life, and how she also has one of those little hula girls on the dashboard of her car. OK…so I spent the afternoon watching Peggy, and what I’m about to tell you now is 100% true. She had been back with the hula girl for a bit, and after a couple hours I looked over and sweat was pouring off her like she was in the middle of a serious workout. Holy crap. If it wasn’t a completely looney thing to say, I would tell you that little hula girl’s swaying was acting as a workout for Peggy’s body. I had to know if this was real or if I was going insane. So, I tried something… When Peggy got up to go dry off a bit, I snuck over to her cubicle and slightly unscrewed the light bulb, making it go dark. When she returned I could hear her cursing under her breath as she flipped the on/off switch back and forth, then the grunts and oofs as she crawled under the desk to check the power cable. She sighed heavily and sat back down. I peeked over at her several times over the course of the next hour and she was dry as a bone. She also looked pissed. When Peggy went to the bathroom again, I snuck back over and tightened the bulb, restoring the light. The hula girl went back at it, and when Peggy arrived back at her desk she let out a squeal of delight. A few minutes later, the sweat was pouring off her again and the sounds of a snack cake wrapper crinkling filled the air. This is nuts. I mean, literally, this is some Voodoo or Santeria kind of shit. I’m pretty unsettled by it, but at least now I know how she’s crushing us so badly in the contest. NOW I know what to do. It may be too late for a full comeback to win the contest for pounds lost, but if the key players were unable to continue for some reason, I still had a chance. Peggy and her cheating ass can shove it where the sun don’t shine. It’s time for a little sabotage. *******************************************************************************************************\* ​ Ok, so we’re back to the present. I stopped logging the events of the contest after I discovered the witchcraft Peggy was using to crush us all so badly. ​ Now I’ll tell the rest of the story. ​ After figuring out how Peggy was cheating, I sat and dreamed up ways to use it against her. If I destroyed the hula girl bobble, Peggy would just go get something else from whatever mystic was selling her these items. I couldn’t think of any way to reverse what it was doing either. I tried heading off all Peggy’s Grubhub orders for a few days so she would get frustrated and shut off the hula girl to curb her intense hunger, but those little games weren’t gonna do the job for real. I wanted to put some real weight back on that woman and curb all her bragging and gloating. While I continued to ponder my options, a heated discussion developed between Jim and his ex, Sharon on the other side of the room. I couldn’t make out all the details, but it was clear Sharon was upset about Jim’s budding relationship with Peggy. However, he was holding fast and basically told Sharon to shut her mouth and mind her own business. Sharon stormed out of the room and Jim wandered back over to Peggy’s cubicle to give her the recap of the argument. It was all in hushed tones, but every so often Peggy would giggle or softly clap her hands while laughing, no doubt relishing her victory in the battle for Jim’s affection. The two lovebirds took off outside for a walk. Several minutes later, I caught sight of Sharon headed to our side of the room. I sat low in my chair to keep out of her field of vision, and watched with keen interest as she made her way to Peggy’s cubicle. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but figured Sharon was likely writing Peggy a nasty letter that included things like… “Bitch, he’s mine.” “Bitch, he still loves me.” “Bitch, you’re fat and ugly and no one will ever love you.” You get the idea… So after Sharon left, I cruised on over and took a peek. Nothing was trashed or even disturbed. Peggy’s work papers were stacked neatly, her chips and cookies were half opened just like she left them, and so on and so forth. But much to my extreme level of excitement there was, in-fact, a letter. This is what it said… “Listen bitch. U may as well go ahead an kick Jim to the curb because he don’t love U. He’s just in it for the weight loss. And by the way, thanks for makin’ my man hotter than he already wuz. He told me he’s just gonna work U until he loses all the weight he needs. I don’t kno what U R up to with all that magic shit, but U just keep on givin’ my man the nicknaks or whatever it is U R gettin’ from that black car. Then I’ll come take him from U when I’m good an ready.” As you can see, Sharon’s grammar could use some work, but this diet contest was really heating up! I shared the juicy gossip with Kim, Morgan and Tanner, and suddenly there was a renewed sense of excitement in the air. There’s nothing better than a love triangle in the office, right? Of course not. So about a week went by without much of anything going on. I kept up with the kale and carrots, Kim and Morgan were taking extra walks, Tanner had all but quit his diet, and Jim was steadily dropping a few pounds a day with the help of a little plug-in voodoo volcano on his desk that just hisses out steam all day. He and Peggy were also getting pretty serious with their PDA and it looked to me like he liked her more than the extent that their agreement stipulated. Sharon was still watching Peggy’s cubicle closely, but she didn’t have the scowls and dirty looks she’d had the previous week. Peggy was losing weight…quickly. She didn’t even bother telling us what was on the scale, but it was clear that her loss had accelerated to a ridiculous level, and after a few days she wasn’t smiling when she came back from weighing-in. She clearly had had enough of the magic, and a few minutes later I heard her flip the light switch that was feeding the hula girl bobble, followed by a sigh of relief. The sweating didn’t stop though. She was still covered in perspiration, which I presumed would mean she was still burning fat rapidly. A day later, she and Jim were quietly discussing the situation and I heard her say she was scared and had decided to trash the hula girl. Apparently the rule was supposed to be as long as the hula had light to shake to and Peggy was within 100 yards of it the magic would do its thing, but trashing it hadn’t helped either. She fished it out of the can and on the way home from work, tossed it off a bridge 20 miles from home. But there she was the next morning…still sweating…still shrinking. She called the mystic who had put the spell on the hula bobble and he told her there was no way it was still working. She should be free of the magic and able to go back to her normal life. But still, she shrunk. Still, she looked worse and worse. Sickly pale, with gaunt cheeks and bony shoulders. Her clothing hung loosely from her body, looking like someone threw a sheet over the back of a chair. And all the eating…all the crunching, chewing, drinking, and face stuffing in the world wasn’t changing anything. As of a week ago she looked to be under 100lbs. That was the last time I saw Peggy. Jim took her to the emergency room a few nights ago, where in utter desperation they told the story of the mystic, the doll, the shrinky thing, and the hula girl bobble. Of course the hospital and police considered it lies told to cover up some horrible truth. Drugs, disease, poisoning, or maybe side effects from too many essential oils. Who knew? As of today she’s in an intensive care unit, clinging to life. The feeding tubes, as you should expect at this point, are doing no good. Her sweating continues, her weight plummets, and she is literally disappearing from this earth. Jim set up a Gofundme page to help with the medical costs. We’ve all chipped in what we can and are sharing it across all social media platforms. Sharon has even jumped in to help. I guess her love for Jim is strong enough to put his needs first, and his need right now is to take care of Peggy. I guess this is how our diet contest ends. Peggy, the winner by a landslide. The cash prize has already been sent straight to the fundraiser page. The money she won by losing the weight is going back to help save her from the effects of losing that weight. What a horrific irony. As I’m finishing writing this little chronicle, I have the Gofundme page up on my other monitor. It has an old picture of Peggy in that classic pose from all the Slim Fast commercials, holding a tiny plate mostly concealed under a big, fat piece of cake. Her mouth in an awkward wide open smile as she’s interrupted by the camera while preparing her face to receive the fork loaded with sugary goodness. Just below that picture there’s a smaller one of Jim and Sharon, the strong, dedicated organizers of this charity who are no doubt radiating positivity and hope in Peggy’s presence. Despite this, their faces show that awkward sympathy smile, where the mouth is working hard to distract the viewer from the sadness behind the eyes. The two of them are standing in front of the hospital with their backs to Peggy’s room. I can tell this because the window has “Get well Peggy!” and “Peggy strong!” posters plastered all over it. As I’m typing this, I can see there’s something else in the window…it’s the reflection of Sharon’s car. And still something else…something smaller. What IS that?? I’m using all the capabilities of my phone’s zoom now, but I see it. A hula girl bobble. I think I mentioned Sharon saying a few weeks back that she had one just like Peggy’s. Holy crap...did she switch it out? That would explain everything. She parks close to the building at work, well within the 100 yard range of Peggy’s hula girl’s magic. Plus, she’s been parking outside Peggy’s room at the hospital. For god’s sake, Sharon lives in the same apartment complex as Peggy! If that’s Peggy’s hula girl then it’s been working on her 24 hours a day! Could Sharon really do something like this? I think I have to tell someone…but who? Who would believe this craziness? Maybe I can go get the hula from Sharon’s car. If it’s locked, I’ll smash the glass. I don’t care. I have to go try! Oh my god. I just got a text from Kim. It’s too late. Peggy passed away 15 minutes ago. I don’t know what else to say here. If you pray, please send one up for her wispy thin soul. And if you’d like to donate to help with her funeral expenses, just search for her on Gofundme. And please, please don’t go visit a mystic when you need help with something like this. Do it the old fashioned way. Celery and peanut butter. Revenge Sequel submitted by /u/hgtv_neighbor to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/ayo4playdoh to r/Austin [link] [comments]

This happened a while ago but I work at a pretty nice bar in the area. On the weekends we have live music. One day the live musician and I'm assuming his girlfriend show up. He's really cool and she's this really uppity bitch. She sits at the bar throughout the whole night while he's playing his set. Drinking dirty martinis all night. Basically she told me when it was empty that I shouldn't hesitate to fill up the glass again. So every time I had to make another one I looked at her and she nodded her head for another one. He's all done with his set and she wants to pay for her bill. Her bill was only like $42 and she saw how many she had and almost immediately disputed her bill with me. Saying she had only 2 drinks rather than 5. I calmly disagreed with her and eventually she said her boyfriend, the musician, will pay the rest. I put the rest on his tab and she paid for her two drinks (I think she tipped me a whole dollar at best) and then got up and walked out while her boyfriend was still packing up. About a half hour later she comes back in, hammered, and sits down at the bar and apologized for being rude to me earlier. I was pretty busy at this point so I just said "okay." She says that she brought a lot of people up to the bar a few weeks back and that I should thank her for bringing me some business, which I did with verbal gratitude. Then she finally asks for a free drink. Finally let's me know what she's really after. So I said we don't serve free drinks here. She gets a little upset and almost pleads for a free drink because she brought all of her friends to the bar a few weeks prior. So I stop what I'm doing and say "you like vodka right?" Her eyes get all big and bright and she nods. And I walk over to the drink well and put ice in a cup and put her drink in and hand it to her and she takes one sip and screams at me "THIS TASTES LIKE FUCKING WATER!" To which I calmly reply "yeah that's the only free drink we offer." As a follow up to this she actually did find my boss and told him about what I did and his response in front of her was calling me over, laughing, and fist bumping me submitted by /u/Brohnly to r/MaliciousCompliance [link] [comments]

I am the one who was giving you dirty looks in the grocery store. I am the one who rolled their eyes at you in the restaurant. I am the one who shared that insensitive meme. I am the one who wouldn't play with you in elementary school, teased you in middle school, and pretended you didn't exist in high school. I am the one telling you it is your fault. That you're disgusting and you're just lazy. I have trolled this very subreddit before. But I'm not anymore. I took for granted being thin my whole life. I came from an active family, my mom was home to cook for us kids every night, and I was involved in sports from the time I could walk because that's just what I was told boys did. I played varsity hockey all throughout high school, when I graduated I took a very physical job that kept me up and moving 8 to 10 hours a day. I only had time to drink coffee for breakfast, 20 minutes to inhale a burrito at lunch, then ate as big a dinner as I wanted plus a couple sodas and if it was the weekend more than a couple of beers. I did not understand how someone becomes fat, I thought I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was a conscious decision people made. Having this thin privilege handed to me my entire life I thought weight loss was like any other goal, it just took organization and willpower. I hated fat people. I was enraged that my taxes were going up because they were using the healthcare dollars. I felt cheated when one sat next to me on the bus and spilled over into my seat. I didn't want my daughter to have overweight friends because I thought they were a bad influence. I didn't hire them at work because I thought they were weak and unmotivated. Then, two years ago next week, I was in an emergency room being diagnosed with a complete rupture of my left Achilles' tendon. It happened on the job, and they were so glad I wasn't suing that they didn't fight me on the six months of workers comp (an Achilles rupture is usually 4-6 months of recovery.) Once the worst of the pain subsided, I was almost excited to be injured. I was getting paid time off, in bed all day, doing whatever I wanted. And what I wanted to do was eat. All my hobbies are physical, and I had nothing to do with myself. I was at home all day, on bed rest for the first few weeks, then allowed limited movement as long as it didn't disrupt my cast. I didn't realize how much more I'd been eating. Instead of coffee for breakfast I was having a couple eggs and a package of toasted waffles just to kill more time before I went back into my injury limbo. Not three hours later I'd make myself a big sandwich, with soda and chips, I'd eat dinner with my family but some nights it was so uncomfortable sleeping in my bulky cast that I'd end up eating a second dinner. You can see where I'm going with this. It was when they decided I needed surgery, about three months after the injury, that I got the first wake up call. At my pre-op appointment, they weighed me. I went from being 170 pounds to 200. It had happened so gradually. I stayed in my pajamas all day. I'd only been leaving the house to go to PT or the doctor, and I wore sweatpants to those appointments. Sure I noticed my stomach was looser and my clothes were tighter, but I thought it was 10-15 pounds max, injury weight that would melt off when I got back to work. My doctors cautioned me that that wasn't the case. But I was in denial. I shrugged it off and told myself once I was healed it would fall off without any effort on my part. I also told myself I'd cut back on the sweets. I don't think I even made it to the end of that day before I told myself "you're injured, you shouldn't be stressing yourself out with crazy diets." At the surgery I was 218. I told myself it was because the surgery was later in the day than my pre op appointment had been. Recovery time, more denial, more recovery time, fast forward seven months after my injury, and I'm cleared to transition back in to work. By this time I'd bought all new bigger clothes under the guise of these being my "injury clothes". I even joked that they were my "manternity" clothing. But my coffee in the morning wasn't satiating me anymore. I found myself agitated, hungry, disorganized. I found myself stopping for Dunkin Donuts on the way in to work. Then my regular chicken burrito at lunch felt sparse. I missed my thick sandwiches, bags of chips, and limitless soda. Dinner, the same cycle. I told myself it was just the stress of transitioning back in to work, and once things calmed down I'd be back to normal. Then things weren't going so well at work. My numbers dropped, I couldn't keep up with the other guys in my pod, and I was switched to desk work until I was "fully recuperated." If this injury weren't the result of their shitty protocols, I'd have likely been axed on the spot. I was called in to an important meeting one morning and tried to button my shirt. Couldn't do it. And this was my "manternity" shirt. I couldn't even remember when I'd stopped buttoning my shirt like I used to do every morning. I told myself I was going to start running. I had a 6 minute mile in high school, and I ran a marathon in my twenties. After a quarter of a mile I was in more pain than I was at the end of that marathon. Not in my Achilles' tendon either. My chest was burning, there was a radiating pain in my knees, my feet felt like I'd been running barefoot on gravel. But I told myself "Don't be a p*ssy, play through the pain. You've got to get in shape." I'd gone out with what I thought was a conservative goal of running three miles. By the time I hit a mile, which took me 11 minutes, I was in so much pain I could barely think straight. And this is coming from someone who had the presence of mind to play "I Spy" with a three year old while getting a knuckles tattoo. I was so out of breath I genuinely thought I was going in to anaphylactic shock (which I've experienced for real three times before). It took me twenty minutes to even feel capable of walking home. I thought it had to be a medical condition. Maybe a side effect of having taken so many anti inflammatory drugs during the recovery process. I thought my kidneys might be failing. I went to the doctor the very next day. And she told me in no uncertain terms "The only thing wrong with you is that you're overweight. Running is not only going to be exceedingly difficult, but dangerous for your joints. Start with walking and build up to running. And I'd recommend you see a dietician sooner than later." I thought "I don't need a dietician, weight loss is just about sticking it out." I went home and got rid of all the junk, I gave away all my Dunkin Donuts cards, and bought heaps of fruit and vegetables, I ate a boiled chicken breast and steamed broccoli for dinner and I wrote down the calories. And I thought "This is easy. See? Pathetic fat losers just can't put down the fork because they care more about their superficial wants than their health. Well, a strong guy like me isn't going to fall for that. I've been to hell and back in my lifetime, this is nothing." 3am, after a restless night, I got in my car and drove half an hour out of town to buy Chips Ahoy cookies. And I ate them alone in my truck. Not one or two of them. All of them. With a half liter of coke. I looked up and I couldn't even remember the exact moment I decided to go to the store or exactly how I'd talked myself into it. It was just a visceral frenzy. Then I started to realize I might have a very real problem. Cue a year and a few months of starting an exercise programs and stopping exercise programs because of achy pains, not having the time between all my work (which, again, is behind a desk now), and discouragement from not seeing results. And fad diets, and quitting cold turkey, and weaning off, only to be hit with a craving so strong or something so stressful I blindly dive right back into it. And it wasn't a choice and it wasn't intentional and I didn't feel like I'd gamed the system or proud of myself. I was awash in guilt and shame and downright misery. At some junctures it was a guilt as powerful as I'd felt wen my mom's house was foreclosed on because I didn't make enough to take care of my family and her. It cut so deep I would have done almost anything to stop it. I kept telling myself I could do this on my own and it was a test of strength and nothing I couldn't handle. I didn't notice the subtle shifts in attitude at first. I started encouraging my daughter to invite bigger kids to play with her and her friends, invite them to her birthday, and pick them for teams. I'd see those people sharing stupid memes about fat people on the internet and think "Jesus Christ, and you call yourself an adult?" Then I saw a particularly ignorant "shock value" fat people meme, and decided I was going to unfriend whoever had shared it, so I clicked on it. It was a Facebook "memory" of a post I'd shared three years prior. I went and deleted it off my timeline reassuring myself I'd made up for that by now. But the tipping point came one week ago. I was power walking through the neighborhood, sweating bullets, feeling really proud of myself for not stopping for a breather in almost twenty minutes, when some guy drove by and made pig noises out his window at me. I was broken. I've been in bar fights, I've been hospitalized, I grew up with not one but two abusive stepfathers, I'm a fighter. But I was so hurt and broken and embarrassed that I just stood there. If some guy had done that to me when I was thin, there's a good chance I'd have hurled a rock at their window. But I couldn't think of anything to say or do because this time, on some level, I agreed with them. And that's when I realized that was insane. Because of course I was trying my hardest. I'd been trying for years. I had to sacrifice a job I love, I haven't had sex in months, I buy all my clothes online, I dread going out into public, I try any diet that sounds promising, I undergo intense physical and psychological pain in an effort to get back in shape. Who is this guy to judge me? But I was that guy. I've changed but I'm still the same person who did those things in the past, even if I'd never dare to do them now. I went to a dietitian today. It was the first time I'd stepped on a scale without diverting my eyes since my surgery. The few times nurses had weighed me I told them I wasn't interested in what the number was. And I stopped seeing the doctor long enough ago that I can't pinpoint exactly when. I have an appointment with her next week at the advice of the dieititian. I'm 289 pounds. And now, in this same subreddit where my old account, that was so toxic that I've since taken it down, was banned from, I'm coming for help. Call it karma, it probably is. I don't know if you believe in a God, but I do, I think he did this intentionally because of the unchristian way I acted towards others. I was sick, I was nasty, I was the disgusting one. I know you fight. I know you're not weak, you're the opposite, you're the strongest kind of person out there. I am sorry for every look I every shot you. For anything I ever muttered under my breath. For every time I changed seats because of you. For the names I called you in school and for the dance I wouldn't be your date for. You deserved better than me anyways. I apologize to each and every one of you who has ever been unfortunate enough to cross paths with a volatile prick like me who sought to make your personal private health concerns their business. As devastating as this has been for me, a 6'2 guy with a deep voice, shoulder length beard and tattoos, I cannot comprehend how difficult and damaging it was for anyone who has to cope with this publicly accepted, encouraged even, abuse, as an innocent defenseless child. I know now that you are so much more than your weight. I'm the weak one. I'm the wrong one. Now I'm the fat one. And in all the ways that matter I'm still the same guy. I'm no longer the ignorant, mouthy, judgmental, abusive guy I was. But I'm the same loving father I was as a thin guy. I've got the same powerhouse work ethic I did as a thin guy. I'm still as much of a dog lover as I was as a thin guy. I've got the same level of faith, if not stronger, than I did as a thin guy. All the fundamental pieces of my identity and all the good things about me remain the same at any weight. And I was too blind to see it before, there is no such thing as a "fat person" there are only "people who are fat". That doesn't override or in any way undermine the other parts of their identity. Of course I don't want to be this way and I didn't choose it. But even if someone does decide they want to stay fat, and they choose to accept it, you won't hear any judgement from me. Because this life is HARD. It is not the easy way out. It's the hardest I've ever worked and the most emotionally heightened state I've ever lived in in my entire life. I see now more than ever that what you do with your body is none of my business and I can't even begin to understand where you're coming from or what other factors are at play in your life. I've been the worst kind of person and have undoubtably hurt people in ways I will never realistically comprehend. I'm a changed man now but that doesn't change the past and my actions. Don't forgive me, I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't and nobody who acts like I did does. Don't forgive them, write them off. They don't deserve your attention, your wholeness, your love, or your time. They're ugly on the inside. I'm getting my soul in shape alongside all this, and I've done a lot of good work, and I've got a ways to go. But just..... just know that for whatever it is worth I was wrong. And I am sorry. I've got a new eating plan from the nutritionist and an exercise plan too. And I'm going to work it as hard as I can. And even if I get to be 160 pounds of rock solid muscle and go on to win an iron man challenge, I'll never be stronger than I had to be when I was fat. EDIT: Thank you, everyone, especially the five kind strangers who gave me gold. I have been completely overwhelmed by the response my post has received, I was surprised when it had 30 upvotes when I went to bed last night. The inspiring words of encouragement and diverse, gripping, uplifting personal stories that have been shared in this thread leave me in awe. Have a great night. submitted by /u/roundrobinator to r/loseit [link] [comments]

I recently did a playthrough of Fallout New Vegas where I picked up and kept everything. EVERYTHING. I picked every area bone dry. I took all the perks related to carrying stuff. I only used melee weapons so as to not use any ammo. I didn't repair anything so nothing was used. My results are below. And here's a link to small gallery of my acquisitions: Keeping New Vegas Clean Weapons: .357 Magnum Revolver (34) .44 Magnum Revolver (19) .45 Auto Pistol (9) .45 Auto Submachine Gun (8) 10mm Pistol (67) 10mm Submachine Gun (63) 12.7mm Pistol (4) 12.7mm Submachine Gun (31) 9 Iron (2) 9mm Pistol (57) 9mm Submachine Gun (34) A Light Shining In Darkness (1) AER14 Prototype (1) Alien Blaster (1) All-American (1) Annabelle (1) Anti-Materiel Rifle (15) Arc Welder (8) Assault Carbine (16) Automatic Rifle (9) BB Gun (21) Bad Beat (1) Ballistic Fist (11) Baseball Bat (38) Bear Trap Fist (26) Big Mountain Transportalponder! (1) Binoculars (21) Blade of the West (12) Bladed Gauntlet (1) Bottlecap Mine (1) Bowie Knife (15) Boxing Tape (2) Brass Knuckles (13) Broad Machete (1) Broken Grenade Rifle (2) Broken Missile Launcher (1) Brush Gun (38) Bumper Sword (3) C-4 Plastic Explosive (44) CZ57 Avenger (1) Caravan Shotgun (37) Cattle Prod (9) Chainsaw (2) Chopper (1) Christine's COS Silencer Rifle (1) Cleaver (20) Codac R9000 (1) Col. Gillians sniper rifle (1) Combat Knife (54) Compliance Regulator (1) Corrosive Glove (2) Cosmic Knife (24) Cowboy Repeater (27) Detonator (2) Dinner Bell (1) Displacer Glove (3) Dr. Klein's Glove (1) Dr. Mobius' Glove (1) Drawing Dead (1) Dress Cane (2) Dynamite (198) Elijah's Advanced LAER (2) Elijah's Jury-Rigged Tesla Cannon (1) Euclid's C-Finder (1) Fat Man (4) Fire Axe (21) Fire Bomb (1) Flamer (11) Flare Gun (19) Flash Bang (59) Frag Grenade (231) Frag Mine (178) Gas Bomb (21) Gatling Laser (8) Gobi Campaign Scout Rifle (1) Golden Gloves (1) Great Bear Grenade Rifle (1) Grenade Launcher (6) Grenade Machinegun (2) Grenade Rifle (17) H&H Tools Nail Gun (10) Hatchet (2) Heavy Incinerator (7) Holorifle (1) Holy Frag Grenade (3) Hunting Revolver (17) Hunting Rifle (37) Hunting Shotgun (10) Incendiary Grenade (45) Incinerator (7) Industrial Hand (4) K9000 Cyberdog Gun (2) Knife (210) Knife Spear (62) Knock Knock (1) LAER (6) Laser Detonator (1) Laser Pistol (55) Laser RCW (19) Laser Rifle (29) Lead Pipe (55) Lever-Action Shotgun (8) Liberator (1) Light Machine Gun (8) Long Fuse Dynamite (37) Love and Hate (1) Lucky (1) Machete (128) Machete Gladius (4) Mantis Gauntlet (15) Maria (1) Marksman Carbine (18) Mercenary's Grenade Rifle (1) Mercy (1) Minigun (9) Missile Launcher (6) Multiplas Rifle (4) Mysterious Magnum (1) Nail Board (2) Nephi's Golf Driver (1) Oh, Baby! (1) Old Glory (2) Paladin Toaster (1) Pew Pew (1) Plasma Caster (4) Plasma Defender (13) Plasma Grenade (86) Plasma Mine (60) Plasma Pistol (17) Plasma Rifle (22) Police Baton (95) Police Pistol (21) Pool Cue (107) Powder Charge (17) Power Fist (30) Proton Axe (14) Proton Throwing Axe (55) Protonic Inversal Axe (4) Protonic Inversal Throwing Axe (10) Pulse Grenade (113) Pulse Gun (1) Pulse Mine (38) Pushy (1) Q-35 Matter Modulator (1) Ratslayer (1) Rebar Club (38) Recharger Pistol (7) Recharger Rifle (1) Recompense of the Fallen (1) Red Glare (3) Riot Shotgun (17) Ripper (9) Rolling Pin (4) Salt-Upon-Wounds' Power Fist (1) Satchel Charge (50) Saturnite Fist (9) Saturnite Fist Super-Heated (8) Sawed-Off Shotgun (22) Scientist Glove (7) Service Rifle (26) She's Embrace (1) Shishkebab (34) Shoulder Mounted Machine Gun (7) Shovel (4) Silenced .22 Pistol (22) Silenced .22 SMG (1) Single Shotgun (45) Sledgehammer (16) Slow Roll (1) Sniper Rifle (15) Sonic Emitter (1) Spiked Knuckles (8) Sterilizer Glove (2) Straight Razor (10) Sturdy Caravan Shotgun (1) Super Sledge (24) Survivalist's Rifle (1) Switchblade (33) Tesla Cannon (3) Tesla-Beaton Prototype (1) That Gun (1) The Humble Cudgel (1) Thermic Lance (7) Throwing Knife Spear (200) Throwing Spear (192) Thump-Thump (1) Time Bomb (2) Tire Iron (73) Tomahawk (73) Trail Carbine (5) Tri-Beam Laser Rifle (9) Vance's 9mm Submachine Gun (1) Varmint Rifle (51) War Club (7) Weathered 10mm Pistol (1) X-2 Antenna (1) Apparel: 1st Recon Beret (1) Advanced Radiation Suit (5) Advanced Riot Gear (1) Advanced Riot Gear Helmet (1) All-Purpose Science Suit (1) Armor of the 87th Tribe (1) Armored Vault 13 Jumpsuit (1) Armored Vault 66 Jumpsuit (1) Assassin Suit (1) Atomic-Valence Tri-Radii-Oscillator (1) Authority Glasses (8) Ballcap with Glasses (2) Bandana (4) Benny's Suit (1) Beret (3) Biker Goggles (7) Boomer Flightsuit (2) Boomers Cap (1) Boomers Helmet (1) Bounty Hunter Duster (1) Brahmin-Skin Outfit (16) Breathing Mask (12) 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It’s a long story, but one you’ve never heard before. This story is about a place that dwells on the mountain; a place where bad things happen. And you may think you know about the bad things, you may decide you have it all figured out but you don’t. Because the truth is worse than monsters or men. At first I was upset when they told me we were moving to some little town out in the Ozarks. I remember staring at my dinner plate while I listened to my sister throw a temper tantrum unbefitting of a 14 year old honors student. She cried, she pleaded, and then she cursed at my parents. She threw a bowl at my dad and told him it was all his fault. Mom told Whitney to calm down but she stormed off, slamming every door in the house on the way to her room. I secretly blamed my dad as well. I’d heard the whispers too, my dad had done something wrong, something bad and the sheriff’s department had reassigned him to some little out of the way county to save face. My parents didn’t want me to know that, but I did. I was nine so it didn’t take me too long to warm to the idea of a change; it was like an adventure. New house! New school! New friends! Whitney, of course, felt the opposite. Moving to a new school at her age is hard, moving away from her new boyfriend, however, was even harder. While the rest of us packed up our things and said our goodbyes, Whitney sulked and cried and threatened to run away from home. But a month later when we pulled up to our new house in Drisking, Missouri she was sitting right next me texting viciously on her phone. Thankfully, we moved over the summer and I had months of free time to explore the town. When Dad started his new job at the sheriff’s office, Mom drove us around the city commenting on this and that. The city was much, much smaller than St. Louis but also a lot nicer. There were no ‘bad’ areas and the entire town looked like something you’d see on a post card. Drisking was built in a mountain valley surrounded by healthy forest land with walking trails and crystal clear lakes. I was 9, it was summer and this was heaven. We’d only been living in Drisking a week or so when our next door neighbors came to introduce themselves: Mr. and Mrs. Landy and their 10 year old son Kyle. While our parents talked and drank mimosas, I watched the Landy’s lanky, red-headed son hung out in the doorway, shyly eyeing the PS2 in the living room. “Uh, do you play?” I asked. He shrugged. “Not really.” “Do you wanna? I just got Tekken 4.” “Um…” Kyle glanced at his mom, who had just been handed her third mimosa. “Yeah. Sure.” And that afternoon, with the ease and simplicity of our age, Kyle and I became best friends. We spent the cool summer mornings outside exploring the Ozarks and the hot afternoons in my living room playing the PS2. He introduced me to the only other kid in the neighborhood our age: a skinny, quiet girl named Kimber Destaro. She was shy but friendly and always up for anything. Kimber kept up with us so well that she quickly became the third wheel on our tricycle. With my dad at work all the time, my mom consumed with her new friendships and my sister locked in her room all day, the summer was ours to take and take it we did. Kyle and Kimber showed me where all the best hiking trails were, which lakes were the best (and most accessible by bike), and where the best stores were in town. By the time the first day of school rolled around in September I knew I was home. On the last Saturday before school started, Kyle and Kimber told me they were going to take me somewhere special, somewhere we hadn’t been yet – the Triple Tree. “What’s a ‘triple tree’?” I asked. “It’s a totally awesome, totally huge treehouse out in the woods.” Kyle said excitedly. “Pfft, whatever, Kyle. Come on, you guys, if there was a freakin’ treehouse you would have showed it to me already.” “Na-uh, we wouldn’t’ve,” Kyle shook his head. “There’s a ceremony for first-timers and everything.” Kimber nodded eagerly in agreement, her dark orange curls bouncing off of her tiny shoulders. “Yep, it’s true Sam. If you enter the treehouse without the proper ceremony you’ll disappear and then you’ll die.” My face fell. Now I knew they were making fun of me. “That’s a lie! You guys are lying to me!” “No we’re not!” Kimber insisted. “Yeah, we’ll show you! We just have to get a knife for the ceremony and we’ll go.” “What? Why do you need a knife? Is it a blood ceremony?” I whispered. “No way!” Kimber promised. “You just say some words and carve your name into the Triple Tree.” “Yup, it takes like one minute.” Kyle agreed. “And it’s a really cool treehouse?” I asked. “Oh yeah.” Kyle promised. “Okay, I guess I’ll do it then.” Kyle insisted on using the same knife he used during his own ceremony but we paid a price to get it. Mrs. Landy just happened to be home with her youngest son Parker and despite Kyle’s many objections his mother insisted he take his six year old brother with him. “Mom, we’re going to the treehouse, it’s only for older kids. Parker can’t go!” “I don’t care if you’re going to see an Exorcist movie marathon, you’re taking your brother with you. I need a break, Kyle, can’t you understand that? And I’m sure your friends won’t mind.” She flashed Kimber and me a challenging look. “Right?” “No, not at all,” Kimber said and I nodded in agreement. Kyle made a loud, dramatic sigh and called his brother. “Parker, put your shoes on, we’re leaving now!” I’d met the youngest Landy several times before and found that he was as unlike his older brother in looks as in disposition. Where Kyle was a wild, excitable fireball with hair to match, I found Parker to be an anxious, fidgety boy with small eyes and dark brown hair. We got on our bikes and made our way to a lesser known hiking trail a few miles away. I’d asked before where the trail led when we’d ridden across it several weeks before and Kyle had given me the underwhelming answer of “nowhere interesting”. We pulled up to trail head and leaned our bikes against the wooden sign post which read “West Rim Prescott Ore Trail”. “Why are so many trails around here named Prescott?” I asked. “Is this Prescott Mountain or something?” Kimber laughed. “No, dummy, it’s because of the Prescott’s. You know, the family that lives in the mansion up on Fairmont. Mr. Prescott and his son Jimmy own like half the businesses in town.” “More than half,” Kyle agreed. “Which ones? Does he own the Game Stop?” The only store in Drisking I really cared about. “I don’t know about that one,” Kyle wound a lock around the 4 bikes and clicked the bar into place, then spun the numbers on the dial. “But like the hardware store, the pharmacy, Gliton’s on 2nd and the newspaper.” “Did they start this town?” I asked. “Nah, mining started the town. I think they-“ “I want to go home.” Parker had been so quiet I’d completely forgotten he was there. “You can’t go home,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Mom said I had to bring you. Now come on, it’s only like a two mile walk.” “I wanna take my bike.” Parker answered. “Too bad, we’re going off trail.” “I don’t wanna go. I’ll stay with the bikes.” “Don’t be such a wussy.” “I’m not!“ “Kyle, be nice!” Kimber hissed. “He’s only 5.” “I’m 6!” Parker objected. “I’m sorry, 6. You’re 6.” Kimber smiled at him. “Alright fine, he can hold your hand if he wants. But he’s coming.” Kyle turned and started up the trail. Parker face fell into an undignified frown but when the charming Kimber stuck her hand out and wiggled her fingers at him, he took it. Kyle was right, it wasn’t a long walk – only a half mile down the trail and then another half mile hike on a well tread path up the mountain. It was a steep climb though, and by the time we got to the treehouse, I was winded. “What do you think?” Kyle asked, excitedly. “It’s…” I studied the tree as I caught my breath. “It’s pretty awesome,” I smiled. And it was. They hadn’t lied, the treehouse was the biggest I’d ever seen. It had multiple rooms and there were actual curtains in the windows. A sign above the door said “Ambercot Fort” and a rope ladder hung below the threshold, missing several planks. “I’m going up first!” Yelled Parker, but Kimber caught his arm. “You have to do the ceremony first or you’ll disappear.” She reminded him. “That’d be fine with me,” Kyle grumbled. I was eager to get into the fort myself. “Give me the knife.” I held out my hand. Kyle smiled and dug the switchblade out of his pocket. “There’s some space in the back to carve your name.” I opened up the knife walked around the tree looking for an empty spot. They were so many names on the tree that I had to crunch down and look near the bottom since I couldn’t reach any higher. I spotted both Kyle and Kimber’s carvings on the tree and I finally found a spot I liked near the latter. I bit my tongue and carved Sam W. into a blank piece of bark underneath someone named Paul S. Parker went next but had so much trouble with the knife that Kyle had to do it for him. “Alright, let’s go,” I ran over to the rope ladder. “Wait!” Kyle yelled. “You have to say the words first.” “Oh yeah. Okay what are they?” Kimber sang them out. “Underneath the Triple Tree there is a man who waits for me and should I go or should I stay my fate’s the same either way.” “That’s…creepy.” I said. “What does it mean?” Kimber shrugged. “No one knows anymore, it’s just tradition.” “Okay, can you say it one more time, slower?” Once Parker and I had recited the poem we were ready to go. I climbed the rope ladder first and took stock of my new surroundings. The treehouse was more or less empty, just a dirty rug here and there and some trash: old soda cans, beer cans and fast food wrappers. I went room to room – four in total – and found nothing of real interest until the last one. An old mattress lay in the corner and piles of musty, ripped clothing scattered the floor. “Did a hobo live here?” I asked. “Nah, this room has been like this for as long as I can remember.” Kyle said from the doorway behind me. “It smells gross.” I said. Kimber walked up to the threshold but refused to go any further. “It’s not the smell that freaks me out - it’s that.” She pointed up to the ceiling and I raised my eyes to read what was written there. Road to the Gates of Hell Mile Marker 1 “What does it mean?” I asked. “It’s just older kids being dicks,” Kyle said. “Come on, I’ll show you the best part of the treehouse.” We walked back into the first room and Parker looked up at us and smiled, pointing down to what he’d clumsily carved into the wooden floor. “Fart,” Kyle read. “That’s hilarious, Parker.” He rolled his eyes but his little brother didn’t pick up on the sarcasm and smiled proudly. Kimber sat down on the floor next to Parker and I sat on his other side. Kyle took the knife from his brother and then walked across the room and wedged the blade between two planks of the wooded wall. He pushed and the board gave, opening up a small, secret compartment in the wall. Kyle took something out and pushed the plank back in until it was flush with the others. “Check it out.” He turned around and proudly held up two cans of Miller Lite beer. “Whoa!” I said. “Ewww, warm beer? That’s gross. How did you even know it was there?” Kimber asked. “Phil Saunders told me.” “Are we gonna drink it?” I asked. “Hell yeah we’re gonna drink it!” Kyle came and sat down in our circle, popped open the first beer and offered it to Kimber. She eyed it like he was trying to hand her a dirty diaper. “Come on, Kimmy.” “Don’t call me that!” She yelled at him and then reluctantly took the open beer. She smelled it and made a face, then pinched her nose and took a small swig. Kimber shuddered. “That was even grosser than I imagined.” “I don’t want any! I’ll tell mom!” Parker said quickly as the beer passed in front of him to me. “Good, ‘cause you ain’t getting any,” Kyle promised. “And you won’t tell mom shit.” I put on my best poker face and took a long, deep swallow of the warm beer before I had the chance to smell it. It was a poor decision and when I wretched, the foul yellow liquid went all over my shirt. “Aww man, now I’m gonna smell like beer.” We spent the next hour and a half drinking the two cans of Miller Lite and after awhile the taste grew more tolerable. I couldn’t tell if I was becoming a man or actually getting drunk. I hoped it was the former. When the last drop of the last beer was consumed we spent 20 minutes trying to determine if we were drunk. Kyle assured us that he was wasted while Kimber wasn’t sure. I didn’t think I was, but I failed all of our drunk tests. Kimber was in the middle of reciting the alphabet backwards when a loud, metallic grinding suddenly pierced the calm mountain air like a gunshot. Kimber stopped talking and we spent a few minutes staring at each other, waiting for the noise to end. Parker curled into Kimber and put his hands over his ears. After what seemed like ten whole minutes the sound ended as suddenly as it had begun. “What was that?” I asked and Parker mumbled something into Kimber’s sweatshirt. “Do you guys know?” I tried again. Kimber stared at her feet as she crossed and uncrossed them. “Well?” “It’s nothing,” Kyle answered finally. “We hear it sometimes in town; it’s not a big deal. It’s just louder up here.” “But what’s making that sound?” “Borrasca.” Kimber whispered without taking her eyes off her feet. “Who’s that?” I asked. “Not who, where.” Kyle answered. “It’s a place.” “Another town?” “No, it’s just a place in the woods.” “Oh.” “Bad things happen there,” Kimber said more to herself that me. “Like what?” “Bad things.” Kimber repeated. “Yeah, don’t ever try to find it, dude.” Kyle said behind me. “Or bad things will happen to you, too.” “But like, what bad things?” I turned around. Kyle shrugged and Kimber stood up and walked over to the rope ladder. “We’d better go. I have to get home to my mom,” she said. We climbed down the ladder one by one and then started the walk back to the trail head in an unfamiliar silence. I was dying of curiosity about Borrasca but couldn’t decide if and what to ask about it. “So, who lives there?” “Where?” Kyle asked. “Borrasca.” “The Skinned Men,” Parker answered. “Pfft,” Kyle laughed. “Only babies believe that.” “Like men who are skinned? Like their skin is gone?” I asked excitedly. “Yeah, that’s what some kids say. Most of us stop believing in that, though, when we turn double digits.” Kyle said. I looked back at Kimber who was still nine like me but she was staring down the trail, ignoring us. That seemed to be the end of the conversation and by the time we reached our bikes the awkwardness was gone and we were giggling trying to decide if we were too drunk to bike home. School started two days later and I’d completely forgotten about Borrasca. When my dad pulled up to the curb to drop me off that morning he locked the doors before I could get out. “Not so fast,” he laughed. “As your father I get the privilege of giving you a hug and telling you to have a good first day of school.” “But Dad, I gotta go meet Kyle by the flag before first bell!” “And you will, but give me a hug first. In a few years you’ll be driving yourself to school, let me be your dad while I still can.” “Fine.” I said, exacerbated, and leaned over to give my dad a quick hug. “Thank you. Now go meet your friend. Your mom will be waiting here to pick you up at 3:40.” “I know, Dad. Why can’t I take the bus like Whitney?” “When you’re 12, you can take the bus.” He smiled and unlocked the doors. “Until then, I get to drop you off in the mornings. If you think it’d make you look cooler you can ride in the back seat behind the cage.” “Dad…just don’t.” I threw open the door of his cruiser before he could say anything more and ran as he laughed behind me. Kyle was already waiting for me at the flag pole and he’d found Kimber, too. “Dude, you almost missed the bell!” He yelled when he saw me. “I know, sorry.” “Whose class are you in?” Kimber asked. She was wearing a red sweater and leggings with frogs on them. Her curly orange hair was brushed into ringlets and her lips were pink and shiny. She’d never looked prettier and I was surprised to realize I’d never really seen Kimber as a girl. “Ah, Mr. Diamond’s.” “Me too!” She said cheerfully. “Lucky,” Kyle scoffed. “I’m in Mrs. Tverdy’s. Only two 4th grade teachers and I get the crappy one.” Kimber grimaced. “Yeah, my mom had her when she was a kid.” “What’s wrong with her? What did she say?” “Just that she’s strict and gives out homework on the weekends.” “On the weekends? Fuck!” “Excuse me, Mr. Landy?” I immediately recognized the tall man that had suddenly appeared behind the white-faced Kyle. “So-Sorry, sir. I meant ‘dang’.” Kimber giggled. “I’m sure you did.” He nodded. “Hi, Sheriff Clery.” Even though I’d only met him a few times I liked my dad’s boss and he liked me. “Well hello, Sammy, are you excited for your first day?” Sheriff Clery crossed his arms in front of him and widened his stance imposingly, but gave me a wide smile. “Yes sir!” I said. And then added lamely, “What are you doing here?” “I’m giving a presentation to the 5th and 6th grades about safety when walking to and from school.” “Yeah, he gives it every year.” Kyle muttered. “Cool,” I smiled. Sheriff Clery nodded at me and then turned and walked away. I looked around, confused. “Where’s Kimber?” “She took off. She is annoyingly on time to everything.” And as if to illustrate his point, the bell rang. We both ran up the stairs and inside. I walked into class and saw that Kimber had saved me a spot next to her at the back. Mr. Diamond, a short, round man of 40 or so nodded at me when I came in. “Mr. Walker, I presume?” “Um, yeah, that’s me.” I mumbled as I rushed past him to the desk next to Kimber. “Welcome to Drisking Elementary. And for the rest of you, welcome back. Go Grizzlies!” The class echoed a reluctant and subdued “go grizzlies”. Kimber introduced me to other kids in the class throughout the morning. Most of them were nice, if sort of underwhelmed by me. They said their hellos and asked where I was from and the conversations usually ended with an unimpressed “okay.” A group of girls who sat near the front, snuck looks at us all morning and snickered. I asked Kimber who they were and she just shrugged. During our second break they came up and talked to me. “Are you friends with Kimber Destaro?” A tall, dark-haired girl asked me. “Yeah,” I answered and looked over at Kimber. She was watching me with worried eyes. “Are you related to her?” “No.” “I didn’t think so because you don’t have orange hair.” I didn’t know what to say to that. “You don’t have to be friends with her, you know,” said the second girl with the oddly round face. “I wanna be friends with her.” A third girl behind the other two snorted. She had pretty auburn hair and a rude, upturned nose. “Well, if you do you’re going to be in the ugly kid group,” the first girl warned. “And once you’re in that group you can’t leave it ever.” “Better than the bitch group.” I said. Rude Nose and Round Face gasped but Dark Hair smiled. “We’ll see,” she said and the three returned to their corner of the room. I sat back down next to Kimber feeling like a badass. It was the first time I’d ever used a swear word in front of anybody other than Kyle. “What did they say to you?” Kimber asked, nervously. “They said you’re too pretty to be near them and that you make them look gross so we have to stay away from them.” “Liar,” Kimber answered, but I could tell she was smiling. We met Kyle in the cafeteria at lunch and he had nothing but bad things to say about his morning. Mrs. Tverdy was old and mean and she made everyone come up and say something about themselves even though the class only had 14 kids and they all knew each other. When the bell rang for recess I went to throw my lunch away with Kyle and I bumped into a kid I hadn’t seen before. “Hey, are you Sam Walker?” The kid asked. “Yeah.” “Oh. Your sister is dating my brother.” “Oh man!” Kyle laughed. “Your sister is dating a Whitiger!” “Shut up, Kyle.” The kid grumbled. “She’s gonna be Whitney Whitiger!” As funny as it was I couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Not that I’d been paying attention but I’d only seen Whitney out of her room once over the summer. “Um, where did she meet him?” I asked the Whitiger kid. “I dunno. Probably at his job.” “His job where?” “He works at Drisking Water.” It didn’t make any sense to me but I shrugged it off. I did remember my mom giving Whitney some menial tasks like getting the car washed and setting up some utilities to get her out of the house. Maybe she met him once and they started dating over text. Teenagers were weird. The rest of the school week followed much like the first. We were well into the first month when I heard someone mention the Skinned Men again. We were out on the playground and Kyle and I were trying to start a fire with two large wood chips. I’d just given myself a splinter when the distant sound of metal grinding on metal flooded over the playground, silencing every one of us. “Borrasca,” I said in awe. “Yep,” said Phil Saunders. “The Skinned Men kill again.” “Hey, Kyle said only babies believed in Skinned Men!” I threw an accusatory look at Kyle. “They do! Phil is just stupid.” “Am not! Ask Danielle, she’s seem then.” Phil scanned the playground and then yelled at a blonde girl talking to Rude Nose. “Hey Danielle come here!” The blonde girl rolled her eyes but came skipping over anyway. “What do you want? I told you Kayla doesn’t like you, Phillip.” “No, tell them about the Skinned Men.” Phil gestured to the air around us which was filled with the metallic scraping coming down from the mountain. “You tell them.” “No, you saw them so you tell them.” “I didn’t see them, Paige saw them.” “Oh.” Phil said and an uncomfortable silence descended. “You guys are weird,” Danielle said before flipping her hair in our faces and leaving. “Who’s Paige?” I asked when she’d gone. “Her sister,” Phil said. “Paige disappeared when we were like 5.” Kyle said. “After she saw the Skinned Men,” Phil added. The sounds from the mountain abruptly ended and the subdued atmosphere of the playground disappeared with it. When the bell rang Kyle lined up in his class line and since Phil was in my class I made sure I was behind him. The teachers began to count us off. “Hey, what else do you know about Borrasca?” I whispered to him. “My brother said that’s where people go when they disappear. To Borrasca.” “What happens to them there?” “Bad things,” he said, and then shushed me when I asked him what that meant. The year dragged on and it wasn’t until Christmas break that I heard the machine at Borrasca again. It was December and there was a thick blanket of snow on the ground which only served to amplify the noise from the mountain. I sat in my room listening to it for a few minutes trying to decide what was happening in the place that bad things happen. I saw my dad’s cruiser pull up out the window and went down stairs to greet him. As I passed my sister’s door I heard her giggling in that annoying, teenage girl way and I cringed. I hoped Kimber never got like that. “Dad!” I skidded on the landing just as he opened the door. My dad stomped the snow off his boots and threw open his arms. “Sammy! How many years has it been?” He joked. It was true I hadn’t seen much of my dad lately since he was working so much. Doing what, I didn’t know since this was the quietest, lamest town ever. Mom thought the Sheriff was grooming dad for his job since Clery was so old and Dad never really agreed or disagreed with her. He’d only been at the department seven months, after all, and he doubted people in the county would vote for him. “Hey Dad, do you hear that? That like machine-sounding noise?” “Yep! I hear it in town every now and then.” “Do you know what it is?” “I asked the Sheriff about it and he told me the noise comes from private property up in the Ozarks.” “Is the property called Borrasca?” I asked quickly. “I have no idea. Borrasca? Where’d you hear that?” I shrugged. “Kids at my school.” “Well, it’s nothing to worry about, Sammy, probably just some logging equipment.” “But is the place called Borrasca? Like have you heard that name before?” “No, I have not heard that before.” Dad pulled his boots off and shrugged off his coat, looking toward the kitchen. I could tell I was losing him. “Have you ever heard of the Skinned Men?” I asked quickly. “Skinned Men? Good god, Sam. Is your sister telling you these stories?” “No.” But he wasn’t listening to me anymore. “Whitney!” He yelled up the stairs. “No, Dad, Whitney doesn’t even talk to me.” I repeated. I heard a door creak open upstairs and Whitney peered over the railing, phone in hand and an annoyed look on her face “Are you trying to scare your brother?” Dad demanded. “Dad, no.” I said again. Whitney shot me a betrayed look. “Ugh, seriously? As if I’d waste my time.” “You aren’t telling him stories about ‘Skinned Men’?” “No, Dad, I told you I heard it at school,” I said. Whitney gestured to me as if to say ‘see?’ “Alright, well you kids need to start getting along. You’re family for Christ’s sake.” Whitney rolled her eyes and when Dad walked into the kitchen she stuck her tongue out at me. “Real mature, Whitney!” I yelled up at her but she was already gone. “I’ll tell Dad about your boyfriend!” Christmas came and went with surprising smoothness at our house. Whitney and I got everything we’d had on our lists, which was a first for us. The town may be smaller but Dad’s paychecks were clearly better. I wore my new Ram’s parka on the first day back to school after Christmas break. Kyle fawned over it and Kimber showed off the blue pearl necklace her mom had gotten her for Christmas. Kyle and I feigned interest but did it poorly. Kimber knew, but just seemed happy we cared enough to fake it. As we said goodbye to Kyle for the morning Kimber was suddenly slammed from the side. Kyle caught her before she fell and I spun around angrily to see Dark-Haired Girl – whose name I’d learned was Phoebe Dranger – laughing and walking away from us with Round-Face girl. “You’re bad people who make poor life choices!” Kyle yelled at them. “When I’m your boss someday I’ll make you clean bathrooms!” “Yeah, and if Kyle’s your boss, you know you messed up!” I added. Kyle and I high-fived and turned to Kimber but she wasn’t sharing in our victory – she was trying to hide the tears on her face. “Don’t sweat those girls, Kimber, nobody likes them. People are just nice to them because they’re related to the Prescotts.” Kyle tried to give her an awkward pat on the back but Kimber turned away from him and ran in the opposite direction. “I hate those girls. Like I really hate them.” I said. “I know, they’re bitches.” Kyle answered, mouthing the last word as he looked over his shoulder for any lurking adults. “Well, I’d better get to class and make sure they don’t try and talk to her again.” “There’s an assembly this morning. No class until after lunch.” “Seriously? That’s awesome! Do we have to sit by class?” “Not usually but we better get there quick so we can get seats at the back.” Kyle said as we started walking. “What’s the assembly for?” I asked. “It’s either D.A.R.E. or the History Society presentation.” “What’s D.A.R.E.?” “You know, D.A.R.E.? As in ‘don’t you dare do drugs or you’re grounded until you’re dead’?” “Oh. I hope it’s the history thing then.” We found Kimber already in the auditorium. She had collected herself and saved us both seats at the back of the room. She waved us over just as the puffy, stern Mrs. Tverdy walked onto the stage. “Hello 4th Grade students. This morning we have a special presentation for you from the Historic Preservation Society of Drisking. If you have questions during the course of the lecture, please raise your hand.” “Like that’ll happen,” Kyle laughed. “Now, I’d like to introduce to you Mr. Wyatt Dowding, Ms. Kathryn Scanlon and of course, Mr. James Prescott.” “What! Jimmy Prescott and not his dad? That’s so weird!” Kimber whispered. “Dude, Thomas Prescott has done this presentation every year for like 20 years,” Kyle said. “It’s definitely weird.” “It’s not weird,” whispered Mike Sutton from behind us. He leaned forward. “Tom Prescott went crazy like a year ago. He didn’t do the presentation last year when my sister was here either.” “I don’t like Jimmy Prescott,” Kimber shook her head. “He gives me the heeby-jeebies. His dad is so much nicer, he’s like a grandpa.” The presentation was slow and boring. Mr. Dowding and Ms. Scanlon talked about the first settlers here: the Cherokee and the trail of tears. They talked about Alexander Drisking’s discovery of a motherlode of ore in the mountains and settling here with his family to mine and refine the iron. Then James Prescott took the stage from there to tell the story of his family’s early journey to the town and their role in the revitalization of Drisking itself in the late 50’s. The last part was the most interesting of it all and I found Jimmy Prescott to be infallibly charismatic and entertaining. I was so busy laughing at his jokes and hanging on his every word that by the end of his presentation I realized I’d actually learned quite a bit. So much so that I was interested enough to ask a question, which Kyle warned was committing social suicide. Mr. Prescott scanned the room and answered a few other questions before he finally got to me at the back. “Yes, you in the back.” “Um, Mr. Prescott, why did the mines close? Like, what happened?” I asked. “Very good question, young man. What did you say your name was?” “Ah…Sam. Walker.” “Ah, I believe I met your father the other day at the Sheriff’s office. Welcome to Drisking! As for your questions, most of the mines were closed in 1951 after a long period of unprofitability: the mountain had simply ran out of iron ore. The mills and refineries were abandoned and the town suffered for years. The miners and their families moved away, stores went out of business, schools closed and Drisking became a ghost town. That would have been the end of it if it weren’t for stubborn families like mine who refused to leave. We refused to give up the town and after many, many years of hard work Drisking became the picturesque little haven in the Ozarks that it is today. I hope that answers your question.” I sat back down and Kyle shook his head at me. “Bro…” The assembly suffered through another fifteen minutes of awkward Q and A until Mrs. Tverdy finally cut us loose. We were released into the cafeteria to wait for the lunch lines to open. Kyle, Kimber and I sat in our usual corner. “That was soooo boring,” Kyle whined. “When are they going to figure out that no one cares about Drisking’s history? Seriously, I fell asleep like three times.” Kimber nudged me. “Sam seemed to care,” she teased. “I just wanted to know about the mines. Mines are creepy, that’s all.” “Yeah, but all our mines were blown up. You can’t go in them anymore.” Kyle said. “Blown up?” I asked. Kimber nodded. “Some kids died after going into the mines so the city set off some ‘controlled blasts to implode the caverns’, at least that’s what my mom said. They messed up, though, and I heard they blew up the water table or poisoned it or something.” “What, how do you know that?” Kyle asked. Kimber shrugged. “I heard my dad talking about it.” “Did they use C4 or something?” “I guess.” “So like, we all drink the water so we all have C4 in our bodies and we could explode at any minute!” Kyle said excitedly. “Do you think that’s what happened to all the missing people?” I asked him. “Just sitting there one day and BOOM!” “Yeah, dude,” Kyle grabbed my shoulders. “And that’s where the Skinned Men come from.” I made the international symbol of ‘mind blown’ and we laughed hysterically. “You guys are dumb,” Kimber rolled her eyes but then she laughed when Kyle fell on the floor pretending he was exploding. I remember thinking in that moment that I was happy here in Drisking, Missouri with these two people. Happier than I’d ever been anywhere else. It was the last truly happy moment I ever had. Less than an hour later Mr. Diamond’s phone rang and he exchanged a few quiet words with the person on the other end, his eyes flicking to and from my desk. It was hard to be surprised, then, when he hung up and asked me to come up to the front. When I got there he told me my mom was waiting for me in the office and I was going home for the day. I traded a confused and worried look with Kimber and then packed up my backpack and went to the office. When I got there, my mom was crying. We drove home in strained silence. I was too afraid to ask what was wrong. Mom parked the car a block from our house, which was blocked in by several police cars. When an explanation didn’t come I broke the silence myself. “Is it dad?” I asked quietly, holding back tears. “No, honey, Dad is fine,” she whispered. “Then what happened?” “Whitney never made it to school this morning,” her voice broke over my sister’s name. “Oh, no Mom, I think she ditched!” I said quickly. “I saw her leave this morning and it was really early, like 6, and she was with her friends. Um, Pete Witiger and that kid Taylor!” “We know about all that, Sam. But they made it to school and Whitney wasn’t with them. They said she wanted to stop by the Circle K near Drisking High so they left her there. And no one has seen her since.” “Well…” My brain struggled to come up with an explanation. “Maybe she’s ditching.” “No, honey.” My mom put the car back in drive and drove up to our house, parking behind a police cruiser. “The police, as well as your father, think that Whitney is with Jay.” “But she has a new boyfriend here!" “We found all her books on the floor of her room this morning and half her clothes gone along with some cash of your dad’s.” “But-” “Right now we think that she hitched a ride to St. Louis and that she’s with Jay. The Sheriff’s office is trying to contact the boy’s parents now.” Whitney? Run away? Anyone who knew my sister knew she was prone to dramatics and empty threats. Plus, she was dating Chris Witiger’s older brother Pete. I was sure of it. We walked up the steps and into a house filled with stale coffee and quiet murmurs. I tried to remember if Whitney herself had ever actually confirmed she was dating Pete but I drew a blank. When we walked into the kitchen, I saw my father sitting at the table, staring at phone records, head in hand. He looked up when I came into the room and gave me a weak smile. “Hey, buddy.” “Dad, I have to tell you something.” I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and turned to look up at a solemn Sheriff Clery. “Everything and anything you might know, son. No matter how trivial you think it is.” I nodded and sat down at the table with my dad as my mom handed the big man a cup of coffee. “Here you go, Sheriff,” she said, weakly. “Please, Mrs. Walker, call me Killian.” My mother nodded and retreated back into a darkened corner to talk quietly with Sheriff Clery’s wife, Grace. “What do you know, Sam?” My dad asked as he rested his chin on his hands in a mock symbol of prayer, as though I may deliver him from his suffering. “Well, just, I heard Whitney had a boyfriend, that guy Pete Witiger that she’s been hanging out with, and I saw them and Taylor Dranger leave this morning before me.” “What time did they leave?” Asked the Sheriff. “I don’t know…like before 6.” He nodded. “That matches the statements of Taylor Dranger and the Witiger boy.” My father’s head sunk lower into his hands and I knew I’d let him down. “But,” I rushed, “I don’t think she went back to St. Louis because she was dating Pete and I don’t think she wanted to be with her boyfriend back home anymore.” “I understand that, son, but a teenage girl’s mind is a complicated thing. My officers are trying to get ahold of the boyfriend’s family back in St. Louis.” Clery nodded to my father. “Now why don’t you head up to your room and let us work, Samuel.” I looked up at him in surprise. “What? No I wanna stay down here. I can help.” “No, son, there’s nothing more you can do here. You’ve been a good brother, now let us handle this.” “But I can help!” “You already have.” “Dad!” I looked over at my dad with begging eyes. “Go to your room, Sam.” He said quietly after a moment. I balked. “Dad…” “Now.” I was so angry I did the only thing that I could of to make my rage known - I stomped upstairs, slammed the door and then sat on my bed in disbelief. The tears came then and I laid there feeling helpless, worthless and scared for my sister. I thought about all the places Whitney could be. Was she scared? Was she alone? Was she…dead? When the sun began to set, I finally got out of bed and went to check my email. I was expecting lots of messages from Kimber and Kyle but there was only one. did she go to the treehouse? I sat staring at the computer screen for almost a minute, Kimber’s words from last fall echoed in my brain. ”If you enter the treehouse without the proper ceremony you’ll disappear and then you’ll die.” I didn’t buy that Whitney had gone to Circle K that morning and I especially didn’t believe that she’d hitchhiked out of town. Nothing they were saying downstairs made any sense if you knew my sister – but maybe this did. Maybe she and her boyfriend went to the treehouse to make out or something and maybe he’d left her there. Maybe she’d gotten lost or maybe the Skinned Men had found her. That was the worst thought of all. I didn’t need to sneak out because the police were too busy with my parents to care about me anyway. I snuck my bike out of the garage and rode the three miles to the West Rim Prescott Ore Trail. When I got there I saw two bikes already locked to the signpost and my two best friends sitting in the snow next to them. “I knew you’d come,” Kyle said when I pulled my bike up and Kimber ran up to hug me. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” There was really nothing for me to say and they didn’t push. Kimber took my arm and we started up the trail. The silence between us was stretched, but comfortable. We trudged through the snow and all the while I searched for the telltale footprints of others but the snow was coming too fast. The hike up the mountain was harder and wetter than when we’d come in the fall and when Ambercot Fort finally came into view over the ridge it was a welcome sight. The sun was getting low and we hadn’t brought flashlights. I fell as I ran up to the tree, calling my sister’s name to the quiet wild. Kyle was right behind me and leapt impressively onto the rope ladder, climbing quickly up the planks. I kept calling Whitney’s name, waiting for Kyle to yell that he’d found her or that there was at least some sign of her. And then I heard Kimber quietly say my name from where she stood at the Triple Tree. I ran over and tried to follow her eyes to confirm what I already knew was there. And then I found it, freshly carved near the top. Whitney W. My breath froze in my chest and my vision blurred with unwelcome tears. And as the sun took its last desperate breath before plunging into the deep of the horizon, a deafening metallic whirl sang out from the wilderness and spilled down the mountainside. Part II submitted by /u/The_Dalek_Emperor to r/nosleep [link] [comments]