Preschool duck idea

When Quicktalon finally woke up, his heart leaped to his throat as he noticed that the sun was beginning to set. A gruff voice chuckled to his alarm before he could act on his sudden panic, “Sit down, you crazy ostrich. You’re fine. Achira has been taken care of, the fire lit, and your dinner is near the fire to keep warm.” Quicktalon froze at the new voice, slowly turning towards the owner of this new visitor, but his eyes seemed to have been playing tricks on him. His brother Fleet was nearby and changing his sister’s bandages.
“Fleet?” he asked softly, his eyes still wide at seeing his battle-scarred brother. “H-how are you here?! The search party for the missing Drakes and Dragons left months ago!” he exclaimed, a grin growing as happy tears began to warm his eyes. It had been far too long since he had last seen his brother. “Well, we were on our way back from the most northern searches, and we found a few traces of what could have happened, but we need to send out another search party after we Rest and replenish our supplies. But I have heard the great news!” Fleet said as he hugged his brother, “ I’m so proud of you!” He exclaimed, pulling his brother into a hug, “I can’t believe you’ve grown so much from that little drake who never left our grandmother's side and always got into scrapes from running too fast.” He laughed softly.
Quicktalon chuckled at his brother’s lighthearted jesting, “ Grandmother always made healing fun and exciting, and I wanted to be able to follow in her talon steps and help those who helped us when we were little drakelings.” He said with a smile, “But now, I have a chance to truly save dragonkind from this dangerous threat, hopefully with getting this information out to the world and traveling to Scholar’s Whispering Peak, I can also get more information on what happened to our Grandmother and hopefully what had happened to our parents all those years ago.”
A smile ghosted Fleet's lips. He knew that something had happened to his grandmother; they had the signs and were Grandmother her. But the more his troop searched, and the more evidence was uncovered, the more serious this strange tail became. He hadn’t mentioned it yet to their pack leader. Still, Drakes across the savanna were going missing, some dragons and even the notoriously hidden Arctic dragons.
Dozens of Dragons of all kinds were going missing. The Sea Orcs were the only ones who witnessed this strange occurrence. They were too big for anything to happen to them, but the cause of the disappearing dragons needed to be uncovered and solved before the giant sea dragons began to disappear. But Fleet couldn’t ruin his brother’s excitement and joy over this. So, for now, he kept quiet and continued praising his brother for his magnificent discovery.
“I need to start getting ready. I’ve got a big trip ahead of me. I need to pack plenty of supplies and ensure I have enough to trade for a thick fur cover to protect me from the freezing temperatures at the summit of the Scholars Whispering Peak.” Quicktalon said, “I can’t wait to be able to spend more time with you and Achira as soon as she fully recovers from the effects of the viper.” He explained with a soft chuckle, “ but I will be back soon, hopefully before winter settles over the lands, which, with it being the middle of New Life, I should have time to make it to the coast and get assistance through the ocean and onto the nearest coastline on the other side.”
Fleet looked concerned at the plan his brother had just explained. " Are you sure that is safe? I’ve met traveling Sea Orcs and been told how long and perilous a journey across the sea can be for Drakes and Dragons of our size!” Fleet explained fear etched deep into his face as he couldn’t imagine his little brother in the middle of a raging and violent sea. “ It would be better to travel on land. You’d get there much safer and without the risk of your research getting ruined from the sea's moisture.”
Quicktalon took a moment to consider. Is a trip like that more manageable? Would it be safer to traverse land rather than sea? “Are there any maps I can get? Can you help me figure out a quick and safe journey from our home to the Scholars Whispering Peak? If the sea is too dangerous, I will need to figure out a different way to get to the scholars and hopefully get there before the snow season starts.” He said, “Do you know if the pack to our North sells maps of the continent and trade routes I could follow?” He asked while moving to a chest with chunks of gold and jewels he could trade for a map. He even wrote quick instructions for effectively healing and removing the venom from the bite of an Orid Viper. Fleet watched as his brother gathered enough items for trade; each pack had different trade requirements depending on the situation and status.
“Do you remember what they ask for trade?” Quicktalon asked as he set his collected gems and precious metals into a small side pouch strapped to his front right upper forearm. Fleet thought momentarily and tried to remember when his troop had last passed through the pack to the North. “ I believe they take both jewels and food, so we might want to stop and catch something for them to eat on our way over to the North Pack,” Fleet said as he sharpened his dull talons on a nearby rock, “ a water buffalo perhaps would be a good trade-off.” He said, “with the upcoming heat wave, they might appreciate more food for their youngins.”
“Then it's settled. Let's head to the North Pack and trade for a map for a trade route to Scholars Whispering Peak.” Quicktalon said, ensuring his research was set somewhere safe and out of the way of any potential spills or papyrus-eating worms. “Let’s go. The hottest part of the day is over for now, and the animals should be coming back from mid-day hibernation so we can snag a water buffalo on the way to them,” Quicktalon said while moving to give his sister healing wound a quick check-over. Once everything was in good shape, Quicktalon and Fleet left the medical hut. They began their journey to the North Pack and hopefully snagged a water buffalo on the way toward their destination.
Both brothers carefully left the medical hut and began looking around Earthquake to tell him where they were heading and their plan for QuickTalon to get to the Scholars Whispering peaks before winter hit. It wasn’t too hard to find the elder drake, as he was once again leading the younger drakes in battle practice for the potential war that seemed to be whispering on the horizon. “WATCH YOUR TALONS! FOR MOTHER DRAKE’S SAKE HEATSTROKE, DUCK! USE YOUR FIRE!” Earthquake shouted, drilling the almost grown drakes in new and much faster battle techniques. “Things must be getting worse if Earthquake is so worried about what’s been happening. It worries me.” Fleet murmured to QuickTalon, fear and worry evident on his face as he watched the young drakes practice their battle maneuvers as if they were currently fighting the actual enemy.
The mock battle went on for what felt like an eternity before Earthquake called for the young drakes to take a break and get a drink of water. “ Freshen up! Get a drink and take a moment to breathe! You must keep practicing if we ever need to go to war against this new and unknown enemy!” He commanded while walking over to see what QuickTalon and Fleet wanted to discuss. “ Welcome back, Fleet, and I’m happy to see that your search troop all came back with no casualties.” He said in greeting, “But what can I do for you both? I can see that there is something you both wish to tell me.” He said while peering down his snout at the younger of the group, “We plan to head to the northern pack and trade something of value for a trade route map to the Scholars Whispering Peaks. The initial route is dangerous, and the humid air could ruin my research.” QuickTalon explained, “With the scorching season rolling in, we thought bringing a water buffalo to trade for a map would be helpful.”
Earthquake seemed impressed by the current plan, “ while that is a good idea, the Northern Pack have been plagued recently by attacks from humans, or at least what seems to be left of that species; if you want to help, I’m sure food, water and medical attention will benefit them most.” He explained, “ but you both have my permission to go to the Northern Pack, just come back here, and I’ll help get you an assistant to stand in your place as a healer until your return.” Earthquake said, a smile gently ghosting across his snout, “now go on little ones, the sun is getting ready to set, and the water buffalo will be out to graze and drink at the nearby watering holes.” “Yes, sir, we will be back within three days,” QuickTalon said with a nod as he and his brother were dismissed and permitted to head off toward the Northern Pack.
With the dry dirt and plants crunching under their talons, QuickTalon turned and followed Fleet toward the Northern pack. “If humans are attacking them, what should we do if we see one?” QuickTalon asked after a long pause in the conversation, “Well,” Fleet started as if trying to recall a memory, “ my commander said that if you see a human, to kill on sight. While most humans are not dangerous to us as adults, they still threaten our young and elderly.” He explained, “Although I have yet to see a human, I have heard conflicting reports and statements about humans. Some are nice and have been seen helping others and the environment we live in, and some are on constant paths of destruction, burning, and taking like the worst of us dragons. Filled with greed and the never-ending satisfaction that they will never have enough stuff to put into their horde, they kill everything on their path to get what they want.”
QuickTalon’s eyes widened in both fascination and absolute horror at what he was hearing, and he had never realized that something so small and without fire or claws or just something to defend itself could be so destructive. “ But, is there a way to tell which ones are good and bad? Surely all of them can’t be rotten, can they?” He asked, jumping in fright when a breaking twig cracked nearby. “I’m sure there is, but for now, we’ve been told to just kill on sight.” He said softly, “ I know you want to help save the world, but you must remember, QuickTalon, that not everyone can or wants to be saved. You will need to know when to save yourself, and don’t let those who want to drown pull you under with them.” He said, eyes staring off into the distance, seeming to be looking at or hearing something out in the distance that only he could see. Quicktalon wasn’t sure how to respond to his brother’s worries. He was worried that his brother might know something more about this dangerous situation than he did, but he knew that he needed to keep his head clear and his eyes forward during this difficult time. “Brother, I know you are worried and want to find Grandmother, but spiraling off into the unknowns and the shadows will not help us find her. I believe in you and the others, but you need to take a breath and remind yourself where you are and your focus.” Quicktalon said, listening intensely to his surroundings while following his brother North. “ We will find Grandmother and the other missing Drakes, but for now, we need to rest our worried minds to start with a clean slate in the morning. If we let our brains become muddled, we could miss important details. So for now, let's just rest our heads and worry about finding a water buffalo and getting a map.”
Fleet sighed deeply, “You’re right, brother. Worrying about all the what-ifs has been muddling my mind. I’ve been so stressed over all of the potential possibilities I have lost the main focus of my mission. To bring the lost and the missing home.” He said, shaking his head ever so slightly as if trying to clear his head from the dark thoughts that had muddled his brain for many years. “ But I agree, let us get that water buffalo and trade for the map. Once we return and rest, my troop and I will follow you to the first trading post and head toward the North. Perhaps we might meet again on your journey.” Fleet hummed softly before snapping his gaze towards the direction of something he had heard. “Shh, I hear something!” He whispered while dropping into a low crouch and moving almost silently through the tall brush and grass toward the sound he had heard.
Quicktalon did the same and followed his brothers' movements. The grass hissed and crunched softly under their talons as they approached the top of a small hill. With careful movements, the brothers peered over the hill. The water buffalo migration had begun, and thousands of bison were resting around the large pond. “ The migration.” Quicktalon murmured, “Would it hurt if we managed to grab a few bison for the Northern pack?” He asked, “ I don’t know how many drakes are in the Northern Pack, but with the hot season approaching, maybe it would help to bring them a few bison to preserve before the migration leaves?” He asked if he knew they needed to preserve the circle of life, but he had no idea what the status of this other pack could be since it had been at least forty years since he had last seen the pack at the semi-annual Drake packs meet-up.
“Perhaps, although I don’t want to end up overwhelming the Northern pack with food. But I agree, with the scorching season approaching, packs will need as much food as possible.” Fleet murmured while slowly dropping into a hunter's crouch, “ I will go for the two deep in the water. You grab the one heading out.” He instructed, to which Quicktalon agreed. He adjusted his satchel and ensured his research was safe before waiting for his brother's signal. With a hiss, Fleet shot over the hill, running as fast as he found towards the two water buffalo in the water. Grunts, groans, and high-pitched bellows filled the air as the water buffalo panicked and ran away from the large drakes.
Thunderous hooves and cries filled the air as the buffalo pushed and shoved into each other while fighting to escape the predators. Quicktalon narrowed his eyes, planted all four talons to the ground, and lunged at the water buffalo. The bison bellowed in fear and swung its head, trying to gore Quicktalon with its horns, but with a sharp turn of his body, he narrowly managed to avoid the deadly horn and sink his teeth into the back of the buffalo’s neck. The buffalo’s wails increased before being silenced with a loud crack, its body falling limp in Quicktalon’s jaws and its head rolling loosely. Loud splashing drew the younger drakes' attention; the second water buffalo ganged up on his brother. With a roar of anger, Quicktalon dropped his fresh kill and thundered through the water toward the second buffalo. The second buffalo barely had time to react before Quicktalon threw himself on the bison’s back and began pulling on its horns to steer it away from his brother.
The bison bellowed angrily and bucked as hard as possible, trying to throw the younger drake off. But Quicktalon held on tight, and with an angry snarl, he gripped the horns tightly in his talons, and with a harsh twist and a loud snap, the bison’s neck was broken. The bison collapsed into the water with a splash. Quicktalon was breathing hard as he tried to catch his breath after such a stressful moment. Fleet growled as he finally managed to take down his water buffalo, “ Fleet, are you okay?” Quicktalon asked, moving through the water, the muddled water sloshing around his talons.
“ I—I’m okay, I just… need to catch my breath.” Fleet panted as he caught his breath. I don’t know why that was so difficult. It shouldn’t have been.” He panted while pushing himself up and moving to collect the two limp water bison. “Let’s get these to the North Pack. We are almost there.” He said while letting Quicktalon assist him with lifting the two freshly killed bison onto his back. “Alright, but as soon as you need to take a break, let me know,” Quicktalon said as he walked over to the water buffalo he killed and hoisted it onto his back.
Fleet nodded in agreement, and the two began the final leg of their trek toward the Northern pack. Crickets began to chirp and sing as the sun set, lighting the sky in a brilliant mixture of pinks, reds, and oranges. Quicktalon smiled, stared at the beautiful sky, and grew even more excited when the fireflies lit up and danced around the land. “ You’ve always enjoyed this time of year, haven’t you?” Fleet asked with a smile, “ I do. The beautiful sunsets, the lightning bugs, and the soft songs of crickets. It always brings me joy.” Quicktalon replied with a happy smile in return. “Whenever I am scared, I think of nights like this to help calm me down.” He explained with a soft chuckle, “Grandmother even painted me a painting of one of these nights. I still treasure that painting the most.” He said, reminiscing about when his grandmother gifted him the painting of his favorite sunset.
“We will find her, Quicktalon, I promise,” Fleet said as he gently shouldered his brother with a soft sigh. “ I know, Fleet, but I’m still worried. She vanished without a trace.” He said softly, shifting the weight of water buffalo on his back to accommodate for the extra weight. “ I believe you brother, but, I still cant’t believe that someone or something like this could have happened.” He murmured, “although I do hope that we can figure out what has happened and we can bring our grandmother home.” Quicktalon said as he tried to enjoy his favorite evening.
Fleet nodded, “ well, we are almost to the Northern Pack, hopefully they have something that can help.” He said, nodding his head towards the approaching lights in the distance, “ good, hopefully they can help.” Quicktalon sighed before a set of drakes in heavy armor thundered towards them, anger written on their faces. “HALT!” One of the guards roared. “W-whats going on?” Quicktalons asked, unsure of why the guards were so angry. “ Your grandmother and her pack of drakes destroyed our village!”

My LIfe Is Worth More Than 36 Apples I was am a sole from this point on. The moths of darkness just began a fetus in the woumb. Both mother and father have litle knolige of my existance my begening is heare hethy with nknone emosion untill I was sliced from my mother. My parents fell in love with me from the begening little did they know that tere was somthing wrong. It was not there falt I think that I loved them at that point to. I was dieing. My heart broken by imprefection that only flesh offers to the potentialy imortal relm of God placed soil named Earth. Spoler alert I servive otherwise you would not be reading this. One day out of my life I fely horible sick beyond what the doctors had already fixed I was dieing still alive but dieing why they “forgot” ( neglected) to tell my parents that I have a paralised vocla chord is beond even my ant’s comprehencion and she is a sergical nerce. What made them fear my parents? What made them fear so much that they could not tell my perents what hppened? I ask these questions so often that I wonder why I servived. That is when one day out of my life I felt amasing like God was truly there to witness me changing to somthing worth more than any dimond in the world. My parents kept me alive by questining the doctors did so little. My grandmother prayed so much I wonder how I survived. One day of my life I felt horible Thank the lord that I was not dieing my great gradfather was putt to sleap in his grave I now have a feading tube one year old no birthday cake for me. I gess that there is where my life chages yet again. I wonder how I survived. One day out of my life I felt Exuberant I am two years old ,Birthday cake ;-) Yay, my first ever the tube is gone. My parrents still wotty but they realy don’t have to any more until laiter. Gram is there. So is most of my family. I love my gram so much at this point I would taher be at her houce than at home there is so much I still have to live for. One day out of my life I feal loved I am at home having fun with my gram telling her stories that I make up as I go along. She loves me I know it in my heart. There are not enugh words, colors, and sounds to describe what I felt in this world at that moment for my little mind to wrap its gentle fingers around I am less than five years old so the only resion that I remember is a home movie. It is a wonder that I survived. One day out of my life it is near cristmass I could be five but I am not certan I thaught tis memory a dream until my mother told me the story. I was sick enugh that my parents thaught that I was dieing. I had an ear infection, pnumonya, and somthing elce my mother can not remenber. I wonder why I survived. One day out of my life I am still five and going to kindergaden I love to run around and hide out undeneath the slides if only I knew what the world was than I probabley whould not have kissed a boy on the lips so soon. I shold have knone that such an act as this was for the day of prom or highscool. I was definatly not ready for being in love, nor was I ready to kiss boys impishly under the that particular Emitsberg Elimentery slide. The boy’s confusion was so great that I belive he ither liked me or he did not know who I was to tell the teacher what had happened. Ither way I grew up way to quikly and at the same time to slowly for my mothers liking. I would barly clean my room thak the lord for her patince at this poit in my life, other wise I woder how I did survive. One day out of my life I was in first grade imaging what life would be like on the moon. I was listening to the teacher but I could not for the life of me was i being sent to lern how to read and wright when I already knew how to do both of those things. What where they thinking I neaded more help with math than with reading and spelling I could study those wordes and sentance structures. Why did they chose to give me exta practice in my faverite subject the only problem I had was telling lowecace B’s from lowercace D’s until a nice teacher taught me a trick invalving the word bed. Putt your fingers on your left hand so that it resembles a lowecace B than have your fongers on your right hand resemble a lowercace D place coth hannds together and make a bed B.E.D. that was somthing that realy helped it was so ingraind in my nogin that after just that one clarifacaition I had the difrence betwean D and D down pat. I read Juny B. Jones boks up the wasoo after that and most of my class was reading picture books that where to easy so I stoped reading them. I didn’t check out books from the scool library because I had books at home to read if I remember corectly. My parents sau that it was the comprehensin part I gess that I understood the book’s meaning but not the questin of “ How did the caractar change throughout the story?” silly me I putt ( this is acording to my mother) “The carictar did nit change throuout the story. There is no mension of her getting dresset,” I wonder how I survived. One day out of my life i am repeating first grade. I thaught that there where only two years of school I thaught that if i passed this year that i would not have to go to school any more nobosy told me otherwise because i kept the thaught to myself because i was so sure that I was corect that I did not tell a sole nor, angel, not even God, but I gess he knew that anyway even without me telling him. I gess that if God dose laph that he might have been lafing at me and I would laph with him once I came to realise my childish ignerance at the age of seven and a half. I realy do not know why I relised that particalar fanticy was falce but I gess that visiters from the fith grade shook that idea right past my young lips and took me from that faticy I was somhow living in at the time. As I wright this I am sitiosly remided of that anoying yet cachy toon of the Caillou theme song whn it said “ Growing up is not so tuff…” I would like to add to that paticular snippit by saying that being or fealing grown up is the hard part. Thank the lord I was still just growing up at this point otherwise I have no clue of how i would have survived. One day out of my life I learn that Gram is moving to West Bend I was so confused because I remember saying to her that “ we will live togther forever.” than she aked me with such a look upon her face that surly I had no anser to this “what if I move?” my anser to this of corce was “we will move to” I loved my grandmother so much at that point that I thaught that my parents not looking for a new houce was a betrayel of what was going on until... One day out of my life I find out that we are moving at first I thaught that this would remidy the we will live togerhher forever situaiton, but it just only remidied the if you move we move situaiton. This was just after I found out that we where moving from Airshire to Ankeny instad of to West Bend this is in ither late may or early june we are looking for a place to live we looked at some two story houces but we came upon this nice single story ranch it is a nice place to be but I wish that I did not tell the reliter that I “ felt at home here” honestly there where less pressing matters of where we would be going to school and how long it would take to move all of our stuff to the new place that I would have to call home but I never realy did in my heart Gram’s houce was my true home from that point on. It is a wonder that we suvived. One day out of my life it is june 16th my birthday I have just terned egiht years old and this is just the begening of when I have started to really pray and recognise what prayer is to me I don’t realy expect God to answer me at this point in my life becase I reay did not know that God could truly anser quite directly or even ask of you things. I just thaught that God knows everything so he realy should no have to ask but I gess that even God has set rules for himself in promisess and fofilment of priofficy. The idea is that we have free will and he wants to ask and not tell us to be with him in spirit and in mannor. Our actions not telling us yes or no but how we feal about those actins threw God tells us these things. Concince and temptaition those little caton figures angel and demon with that tridant ( not the chewing gum brand) and tail. Oh how I have survived. One day out of my life the start of second grade a new school and a new life I wish that there where more interesting things to take apart than a phone with an already broken circut bord smashed by a bou in my class if not for the surcut bord I probubly would have figured out how to putt it back together. How I wondered every day when I would get to take somthing apart and putt it back together, but everthing was altready taken apart and I neaded a more than a philups haid screwdriver to fix that phone what I neaded was somthing I had no ideah existed littlelone the fact that I was way to youn to even use a sodering iorn. The teachers still thaught that I was still to young to hold a pair of sisors even though I started using them in preschool. It is a wonder I survived. One day out of my life I am exited I get to learn how to use chopstickes in class wile eating popcorn we where not aloud to use our fingers. We where at the end of our china unit coloring the great wall with lopsided bricks that where supost to be a little lopsided. I was exalent at using the two sticks to pick up the popcorn the only problem was that I was holding them wrong but at least i did not nead a rubberband atached to the se sticklike utencels. Using my middle finger as a fulcrum and my pionter and ring to manipulate the top stick even until I saw the diagram and did so the proper way. How did I survive? One day out of my life it is nearing first comumyon this is my fist time tasting the wine so that Iwont makew a face if I did not like the way it tates. I thaught that it tasted horible even though I took a small sip as instructed. I did not make a face. How did I survive? Oneday out of my life it is first comunyon I take both the host and the wine this time I like it so much I take a big gulp and make a face. When my mother asked me why I took such a big gulp I told my mother that the whine “ tates better with Jesus in it.” my mother laphed so quietly only her ears and a few others herd her. I wonder how we survived. One day of my life I am now about 9 or 10 years old Great grandma took me fishing and taught me how to imbroider that night i could not sleap for some reason or another so I got out the cloth that I was working on and started stichin gI was so quiet that I thaught that I would sutly not wake her than again the light in the livingroom of her apartment could have given me away. She found me awake and unable to sleap soundly I was not homsich and usualy did not complain but the couch was a tad to cushey so I slept on the floor instad she thaught that I was crazy for sleaping on the floor instad of on the couch. It is a wonder that I survived. One summer out of my life I felt human I can not remember what summer this was but I taught my sister how to swim she wanted to jump into the pool and each time that se jumped I would take just a single step back evedently she lernd to jump quite far also because when she went to her first formal swimming lesson she kept taking off the floaty until she threw it so that the instructher could no longer reach it than when it was her turn to jum into the water she abot flatenes the instructer ling sory short she skiped a few levils. I wonder how the poor swim instructor is doing. It is a wonder that he survived my syster. One day of my life I rode my first rolercoster I was so exited that I could barly wate in line when we finaly got to the front of the lighn the rolercoster took us up and down I could barily understand why all the other peaple on bord where screaming eve mu unkle. When the ride was over I aslked him so tentitivly why where the other peaple skreaming? Than he told me “Because they where having fun” I still had no ideah

Okay, so I was born in 1999, and this story happened in either 2002 or 2003, when I was 3 or 4 years old. This was only 1 or 2 years after I was diagnosed, at the age of 2.
Music has always been one of my special talents, for as long as I can remember, ESPECIALLY Rock and Roll. Green Day was my favorite band when I was 4/5 years old (and I REALLY hated the Wiggles. I didn’t see the appeal of grown men living in a house with grown people in animal costumes singing about fruit salad).
I was always interested in classic rock/alternative/indie/punk music (I’ve always loved rock concerts and they have never really bothered me), and at the time one of my favorite bands was, as a 3/4 year old, the Ramones.
My preschool was hosting a talent show at the time and I wanted to participate. And though it wasn’t unusual for kids to get up and sing at the talent show, most of the time the songs were not wholly unexpected for kids to sing, like nursery rhymes or Disney songs.
Not me.
Of course, now that I am 25 and I was very young then, I don’t really have that good of a memory, so a lot of this story comes from my mom.
So, up I get on stage, and apparently, either one of the teachers said that I was gonna sing a song for them, or I was asked what I was gonna do, and I said that I would sing. (Again, I was only like 3 or 4 at the time, so my memory isn’t that great).
So there I am, a little 3 to 4 year old child, getting ready to sing. Some of the other parents in the audience probably were like, oh how sweet, we’re gonna hear another cute little Disney song or Nursery Rhyme or whatever hahahahaha…
And then, I start singing, quite loudly and proudly at the top of my lungs, The Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated” (one of my favorite songs at the time), and according to my mom and dad, I was parading around the stage like an inner punk rocker, apparently clutching the microphone tightly with my hands as if I felt like the microphone would be taken away at any moment. (Again, this is from my mom and dad, and I was only 3 or 4 at the time so I was too young to remember).
That probably shocked the teachers and parents there, that this little child knew all the words to a nearly 30 year old (at the time anyway) punk song about being so damn bored out of your mind waiting for a show that, well, you wanna be sedated and sang it at the top of their lungs in a small voice or whatever. Of course being 3 or 4 I had NO idea what the lyrics meant, but I didn’t care.
And I normally had quite a difficult time with expressive language and couldn’t exactly initiate or maintain a conversation or even talk and interact/socialize with my peers, but I memorized song lyrics and could sing them through like there was no problem.
According to my mom, though she and my dad (and perhaps the other parents as well) found this hilarious, the other teachers were not thrilled or found it funny, probably because they didn’t find it appropriate that a little girl would be singing about wanting to be sedated, but they didn’t know what to do because they had never really dealt with a situation like this before in their lives, or they just felt that cutting the act short would not be a great thing, so they just went along with it.
There was also, according to my parents, another kid (a boy) whose talent was to tell you where the train lines in NYC went and where their stops were located.
But anyway, that’s my quirky little wholesome story for you.

Welcome back to my running series of WWF PPV Reviews from a ‘blind’ perspective (I have no idea what’s going to happen; the results, the feuds or how good any of the matches will be). I have always heard stories of the attitude era and golden age but never watched it myself so I set myself to watching every single PPV event chronologically. I am also watching Wrestling Bios ‘reliving the war’ series to keep me updated inbetween the events with the feuds, and to get excited about upcoming matches.
Before I review the matches, based on the past few episodes of raw and last PPVs I’ll let you know, going into the event, which match I’m most excited for and which feud I’m most excited to see.
The match I’m most excited to see has gotta be Bret hart vs Undertaker. Two absolute all timers in the ring for the championship at summerslam? I mean come on what else can I pick it’s a sure fire banger.
The feud im most excited to see is actually Mankind vs HHH, I think they’ve got a really good dynamic and opening the show after last Ppv is genuinely exciting.
WWF Summerslam 1997 Match Ratings
HHH vs Mankind Steel Cage Match 2.75/5
Goldust vs Brian Pillman 1/5
The Godwinns vs Legion of Doom 1.25/5
Bulldog vs Shamrock 2.25/5
Los Boricuas vs Disciples of Apocalypse 0.5/5
Owen Hart vs Stone Cold Steve Austin 3.5/5
Bret Hart vs Undertaker 4.25/5
The steel cage match is actually the first I’ve seen since starting this journey so well over a year with no kind of cage match, definitely adds a level of anticipation and excitement.
In terms of the actual match tho it wasn’t anything too special and honestly their match at Canadian stampede was way more entertaining. There were however a couple of completely nuts spots, mankind being suplexed from the top of the cage, and mankind delivering a flying elbow from the top of the cage, he is just an insane man; how he did all these crazy bumps never ending his career super early or anything is just divine intervention. It’s good entertainment but it wasn’t the best match. It is however very telling of what’s to come in the WWF with upcoming PPVs, with hell in a cell and more insane high flying spots.
What I am loving is Mick Foleys character development, he comes to the ring as mankind, does his bang bang as a call back to cactus jack and at the end when he’s hurt, dude loves music plays, his foot starts moving and he starts dancing (ish). Everyone absolutely loved it and so did I.
The Pillman match against Goldust was very boring, I didn’t expect too much as I’m not that big of a Goldust fan if I’m completely honest; I just think he isn’t that exciting to watch. Pillman ends up losing which means… he has to wear a dress on raw? 😂 this whole gimmick match and feud is just an L for me. The crowd was surprisingly into it, but I don’t really know what to say about it, it was just a snooze fest.
Looking this match up I realised Pillman was injured during this event and he sadly passed away two months after this. Rest in peace he was a fantastic unhinged character and that’s a real shame. He just couldn’t perform as his body wouldn’t let him anymore.
Well that’s a rather sour note but let’s move onto the most established entertaining tag team at this point in the WWF legion of doom. But it’s a real shame that they had to get in with the godwinns as when the godwinns were in control which was over half the match they seriously slowed to to a snails pace, holding for way way too long. That spike piledriver at the end was cool by the legion of doom but to be honest most of the match was just another snoozefest. Just skip the last two matches.
Inbetween the next match there’s a SEVEN MINUTE section where they had this million dollar chance between a couple of live contestants and a couple of phone calls, no one ends up winning and it’s just pointless. Man the start to this event has been a mixed bag…
Shamrock actually has a very valid reason to be mad at the bulldog, with him having the bulldog throw dog food on him, so let’s hope this is a physical match to really get this PPV going.
And it was decently physical to be fair to them, I’m not sure I’m shamrock was out on his feet for a portion of it as he was no selling a few punches and had a busted lip so there’d been some sort of connection somewhere. Like I say though the angle they were going for was cooler than the actual match and it was satisfying seeing that after the match shamrock got himself DQd and just lost it, beating the bulldog after he threw dog food on him again, holding a chin lock on him so long he passes out, using finishers in referees, this was cool. The match was about restoring his honour in a way and he certainly did that. The crowd goes nuts and he’s in the ring just screaming, bloody brilliant. The actual match was a little lacking though and this should set up for a good match coming up.
And oh boy was I wrong genuinely I don’t know why but this match was so awful. For pretty much 90% of the time the wrestlers just didn’t know what to do. There were no impressive spots, no playing to the crowd, no psychology just nada. Like the last event I watched the ppv can benefit from less matches that are better booked. I don’t know why this match exists, I don’t know what it achieved. One thing that was insane was the amount of body hair Perez has… like it’s an insane amount, it’s not normal 😂 I couldn’t help but just look at it in complete awe like what the hell am I seeing? But when a man’s body hair is more entertaining than the match that’s a problem. When the pinfall came the crowd literally, I’m not joking, had 0 reaction. Avoid like the plague.
The next match I’m honestly having really mixed feelings about. Owen hart and Austin on paper should be a good match, and that it is… but this is when Austin’s neck was broken and he was temporarily paralysed after a botched piledriver. So this means… Austin is probably gunna go more part time after this. I don’t know this but I’m just assuming but we’ll see. IM NOT READY!!
Before I mention the injury again, the match was going extremely well and it was a tremendously entertaining bout. I find it crazy that they were making a big deal of Owen working the neck only for him to actually break it. The different styles of the wrestlers, Owen being technical and stone cold being a brawler really made for a pure class match. I’d imagine they were going to go a bit longer but had to come up with a new finish on the spot so credit to them for that. And ouch it was a horrible spot to see, knowing what was coming up I winced and cringed so hard when it happened. Owen does a good job of playing up to the crowd after the botch and covering over for the pinfall but seeing Austin just completely dead in the ring like that is heartbreaking after seeing his rise. They played it off so well in fact that the crowd doesn’t really seem to notice. Austin seems to insist on getting himself standing up and raising the belt, and he refuses help until he gets out of the arena, truly amazing dedication to the wwf and why he was and is a superstar. It’s a real shame it had to end like that because again they were performing really well and putting on a good show. Reading about it Austin was out for 3 months after this and apparently Owen hart was meant to drop to his knees not sit down which had a big part to do with the botch. GOD DAMN IT!! But we all know he returns an even bigger superstar, so I’ve got that to look forward to.
Okay enough about the injury, let’s get onto the main event.
Shawn being the referee and knowing the fighting that was happening backstage for real between Bret and Shawn made this really exciting. I bet this is gunna be full of drama!
The match starts off at break-neck pace (pun intended) with Bret hart smashing undertaker across the back with a belt and there’s no DQ because the bell hasn’t been rung yet. They exchange blows together as it goes back and forth in and out of the ring and I’m loving every second. Paul bearer eventually makes his way to the ring only the be smacked multiple times right on the jaw and god there’s something so satisfying about Paul bearer getting clocked. Multiple times Shawn is actually acting as a good referee which adds to the drama as Bret is keeping a close eye on him. Some of the hart foundation also come to the outside of the ring and undertaker does his iconic lean on the ropes to almost backflip outside the ring which looks so good and beats the hell out of them. I thought this would be dramatic!
This match was actually an absolute banger I really enjoyed it. Hart plays his heel perfectly as usual during the whole bout and when he’s eventually victorious the ring is filled with trash and people showering him with abuse. I thought even though this was a pretty long match at 30 minutes they were able to fill most of it with good action. The last 5 minutes were especially dramatic with a steel chair getting involved, Shawn is hurt on the outside and hart smacks undertaker clean across the head with it, Shawn notices the chair when he comes back into the ring and calls Bret out, Bret then spits on Shawn and he ducks as Shawn swings for him with the chair, he hits undertaker and that’s all she wrote. I think the match could’ve benefitted from being a bit shorter in all honesty; focus the action down to a shorter time but a longer match with Shawn as the special referee, undertaker vs Bret, WWF title, you can’t complain about it being too long. I would’ve liked to have seen a bit more offense from undertaker as his striking ability and in ring moves are so exciting to watch. But great match and it felt like a big main event as it should do at summerslam.
Overall the PPV had a great ending, a good start, and a terrible mid card. I really hope they don’t go back to booking boring mid cards with wrestlers they know can’t put on a show, instead they can stick with less matches with more quality. I did enjoy watching this though. I think the PPV will always be known for the piledriver botch but I think the main event is worth a watch as well. I also think this event was worth noting that a lot of people feel this is the beginning of the attitude era, people saying survivor series as well or December 1997 but we’ll see.
Overall rating 2.75/5

Nuxia is a problematic character, she can feel extremely unfair to fight and is overall a good duellist, but her 4vs4 abilities are some of the worse in the game. She is also a very unique character, she has barely been touched by Ubisoft since her release, and also has a truely one of a kind mechanic in her traps. As such, a rework of Nuxia is a tall order, it must manage to buff her in 4s without making her broken in duels and while keeping the character unique. Here is how I propose we go about it.

~I-Nuxia’s damage~
If there is one thing that is said to be strong about Nuxia it’s her damage, she can absolutely delete someone if she gets an opening. As such, before we buff her in other ways, we must adress her damage. Her dps is high because of two things : her base damage, and her two damage feats.
Regarding her base damage it’s actually not that high, her lights deal 9-12 damage and her heavies 24-30. This is on par with a lot of assassins, with Orochi being 10-13 on his lights and 22-32 on his heavies. Berserker is also 9-12 on his lights and 24-32 on his heavies. Her damage overall is a bit lower but more consistent, with less of a gap based on the direction of her heavies and their place in the chain.
Her damage is boosted by her two feats, Deadly Duet gives her a passive 20% damage increase when close to a lone ennemy, and Slip Through gives her a 30% damage boost to her next attack after a dodge. Are those feat too strong ? Not really in my opinion, Deadly Duet isn’t active a lot of the time in 4s as people tend to stick together, and Slip Through boost one attack with no garantee of landing it while being a tier 3. They are a lot of stronger feats, and I think they play into her unique identiy, you should be rewarded for roaming the battlefield and hunting lone targets.
As such I don’t think a damage nerf is needed even with those buffs, but if something had to be nerf I would nerf the base damage instead of the feat. Nuxia is a better duellist than teamfighter, as such I doubt such buffs would risk making her broken in dominion, only in duels where the feats are a non issue. This way she gets to keep her unique feats, while reigning in her damage if it proves to be too high after those buffs (even though as of now it is not above the average of assassins).

~II-« Quality of life » buffs~
Those are a few things that don’t make a huge impact but would still help her. First I would give her something similar to Shinobi and Shugoki’s run, if she is meant to be a roamer she needs to be able to move across the map fast. I would make it not as good as Shinobi’s so he keeps his own identity, but better than Shugoki. In addition, I would give her hyperarmor on Mirror Raid, her unique parry counter. The move itself deals 15 damage, but is made useless in teamfights due to interrupts, it would give her a bit more anti gank viability. Finally traps should beat any attack thrown in their direction, including non crushing counter lights and light parry attempts, so that ennemies don’t randomly beat traps by messing up parry timings, while still giving them the ability to counter the trap on a good read by lighting Nuxia in another direction.



~III-Opener~
This might be a controversial take but as of right now Nuxia lacks a reliable opener. Most people will tell you her trap mix up is, and it is an opener, just not a reliable one. The idea is to heavy, so that your opponent as to decide if you are going to either let it fly, trap, hard feint to gb, or just feint. However, this opener heavily favors the opponent. For once it is extremely slow, and a lot of the time your opponent while just do their opener at the same time or even slightly after you and you will just eat it. For example wether or not you are feinting or trap your heavy, a forward dodge bash will beat you, or even a simple light. It also is not stamina efficient, costing 22 to 24 stam based on if you trap or hardfeint. There is a reason why characters with bash openers rarely open by feinting heavies in the air.
Even in a best case scenario where you don’t get interrupted, the defender is still massively favored, and that’s because the defenders options beats several of Nuxia’s own. For example :
-Dodging and dodge attacking beat both traping and letting the heavy fly, with empty dodges beating hard feints and dodge attack beating feint to gb. This is the biggest culprit, by alternating between empty and dodge attack the defender can beat ¾ of Nuxia’s options reliably.
-Lighting in any direction (except the heavy direction if your hero has crushing counter lights) beats the trap, feint to gb, and for most player hard feinting if they can’t react to the light in time to parry it. They can block it but they are then back to neutral.
-Parrying beats the heavy, and has a chance to beat the trap if the defender messes up his parry timing, it’s also neutral to hard feinting to nothing. So even if the defender doesn’t dodge, he still has a lot of options, making so banking on him dodging or dodge attacking as Nuxia isn’t a reliable option either.
Compare this to your regular bash opener and it’s simply a two options mind game of predicting if you your opponent thinks you are going to empty dodge or dodge bash and you will see that Nuxia’s opener is fairly unnremarkable. Put it this way, imagine two sets of two duelling bots. One duo is Nuxia vs another hero, the other is JJ vs another hero. The Nuxia bot is programmed to open by selecting randomly an option from her heavy opener, while the JJ bot does the same thing with his forward dodge bash opener mix up. Their opposing bot randomly picks an answer to counter it, mathematically Nuxia’s opponent will win the trade more often than her, while JJ and is opponent would be fairly even.
So should we just give Nuxia a bash opener ? No, one of the goal of this rework proposal is to keep her uniqueness. So here is my proposal, in addition to her trap make her able to soft feint an opener heavy into a weaker, undodgeable light which always come from the same side as the heavy. My reasoning is simple, this change makes her opponer closer to a bash opponer as it reduces the imbalance between the defender and attacker, dodging and dodge attacking doesn’t beat 3/4 or Nuxia’s options anymore. The defender can still dodge and dodge attack if he makes a correct read, but Nuxia has a reliable way to beat both. As such the opponent must now make a real decision if dodging is the right answer, and if not actually has to interract with the trap mix up. The soft feint light would both deal less damage and be 600ms lights (like Zhanhu unblockable lights), the damage nerf is to make them less oppressive, and being slower they allow the opponent an easier light parry on a correct read since they also always come from the same direction as the heavy.
In conclusion, the oppenents options would now be :
-Dodge and dodge attack still beats trap and heavy, with them additionnaly beating hard feint heavy and feint to gb respectively, but they can be punished by the soft feint light if they abuse it
-Light interrupt a trap by lighting on a different side
-Parrying either the heavy or the feinted light (which again is slower and always come from the same side as the heavy).

~IV-Recovery cancels, or why Nuxia should have an all guard~

If you look at the top heroes in 4s, most of them have access to some form of recovery cancel, typically dodge recovery cancels. Those are extremely powerful tools, especially in teamfights. During ganks it makes babysitting harder since the baby sitter as to interrupt you during your attack, instead of during your recoveries. And during brawls they allow you to quickly switch target and reposition. This is one of Nuxia’s biggest weaknesses in 4s. She is a sitting duck in ganks, unable to get any damage in before getting revenge and even when she does get it there is nothing stopping the ennemy to wail on you while you are trying to attack their teammate. But giving her dodge recovery cancel is just making more like other heroes, and we don’t want that. That’s where my idea of an all guard comes in.
Let’s describe what it would look like first. It would be more similar to Musha’s guard, she cannot hold it and has to go into it at the right timing. Additionnaly, hers would be weaker than Musha’s to not make him redundant. She wouldn’t be able to access while in hitstun, only after a block and to cancel the recovery of her attacks except her traps. If the ennemy hits her all guard she has three options, she can do a weaker version of mirror raid, doing less damage while still having hyperarmor, she can do a weaker hyperarmored zone or she can immediatly follow up with a non garanteed heavy or zone to go back into her trap mix up. In addition just like Musha she can go back into her all guard after blocking with it, and she is ofc gb vulnerable on the same timing. Notice that all of her options are weaker version of Mushas, she gets a weaker garanteed damage and a weaker zoning tool (though unlike Musha’s this one is not garanteed and can be blocked or parried, finally she can use it to go back into her bread and butter mix up.
This solution has several benefits. It solves her lack of recovery cancels without giving her dodge recovery cancels, it makes her a bit stronger in teamfights by being able to defend herself better when ganked with the block recovery cancel and allows her to get some damage in by punishing people just wailing on her when she is in revenge. At the same time it’s still a weak all guard, the only garanteed damage she would get out of it would be around 10, as her only other offensive options out of it is her trap mix up with both the heavy and zone, which the opponent can beats on a proper read. It also fits her lorewise, she doesn’t have a shield so having her hold an all guard wouldn’t make sense, but hookswords are meant to trap the opponents weapon. Currently they do when she is on the offense with her traps, but they should also be able to do it while she is on the defensive.
This concludes my proposed Nuxia rework, let me know what you think.

As a child I was in day care from the age of 3 (preschool)to the age of 10(4th grade) for at least 12 hours a day on all weekdays. When I was in preschool I would start at 6 am and stay until 7pm when my parents would pick my brother and I up and we would then go to bed at 8 or 8:30pm. As we grew up we switched to before school care, school, and then after school care. School from kindergarten to about to second grade we had before school care in our school lunch room until it got canceled because we were one of the only families that would go, there were about 14 kids that would go to the morning care. But during that time we would get to school at 6:30 to 7:00, the morning care would start at 7:00 so my brother and I would just wait outside the school on the sidewalk. The actual school day would start at 8:00, we would then start after school care at 3:00. The after school daycare would start at 3:00 and end at 7:30 but most days we would be there until 8pm. After the morning care was canceled my brother and I would just walk ourselves to school, our parents would leave at 6-6:30ish. We would leave the house at 7:30 and normally get there early and would wait outside until school started,but the after school hours were still the same. This went on untill 4th grade when we would just walk ourselves to and from school everyday. Also on every school holiday we would also be at day care until 4th grade. During summer time we would also go to daycare every weekday. Also during this time from the age of 4-5 we would dress ourselves, make our own meals, and be responsible for all of our own health. After 4th grade we would do all the same but we would start waking ourselves up in the morning, and we would be responsible for cooking dinner for the family on weekdays and weekends. During covid when my parents worked from home (5th grade) I had gotten very depressed and I wouldn't feed myself, and because of that I would be very tired and not be able to get out of bed without either passing out or becoming very nauseous. My parents would get very mad at me for this and they would tell me to feed myself even when i was too sick to get up and I would just have to crawl to get food(my parents wouldn't bring me food or try to take care of me). Also in 4th grade i fractured my wrist and wasn't taken to the doctor untill weeks later because my parents didn't believe me when I said it was broken, this cause my wrist to start healing incorrectly and I had to have a full arm cast instead of just a lower arm cast. During this time i still had all the same responsibilities. I would also like to mention that when I was in elementary school we wouldn't have any food to pack for lunch so I would either have free crackers and candies from restaurants that I would steal. Or I would use birthday money to buy school food. I now have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and because I have not had any serious traumatic or abusive events I am wondering if this is the reason or if I am just forgetting something. I also was once thrown into a car by my father which caused me to have two dead front teeth, I don't remember this event exactly but I do remember all that happens after wards. Any way if anyone has an idea of weather or not this is related to my bpd i would really appreciate the insight.

As a child I was in day care from the age of 3 (preschool)to the age of 10(4th grade) for at least 12 hours a day on all weekdays. When I was in preschool I would start at 6 am and stay until 7pm when my parents would pick my brother and I up and we would then go to bed at 8 or 8:30pm. As we grew up we switched to before school care, school, and then after school care. School from kindergarten to about to second grade we had before school care in our school lunch room until it got canceled because we were one of the only families that would go, there were about 14 kids that would go to the morning care. But during that time we would get to school at 6:30 to 7:00, the morning care would start at 7:00 so my brother and I would just wait outside the school on the sidewalk. The actual school day would start at 8:00, we would then start after school care at 3:00. The after school daycare would start at 3:00 and end at 7:30 but most days we would be there until 8pm. After the morning care was canceled my brother and I would just walk ourselves to school, our parents would leave at 6-6:30ish. We would leave the house at 7:30 and normally get there early and would wait outside until school started,but the after school hours were still the same. This went on untill 4th grade when we would just walk ourselves to and from school everyday. Also on every school holiday we would also be at day care until 4th grade. During summer time we would also go to daycare every weekday. Also during this time from the age of 4-5 we would dress ourselves, make our own meals, and be responsible for all of our own health. After 4th grade we would do all the same but we would start waking ourselves up in the morning, and we would be responsible for cooking dinner for the family on weekdays and weekends. During covid when my parents worked from home (5th grade) I had gotten very depressed and I wouldn't feed myself, and because of that I would be very tired and not be able to get out of bed without either passing out or becoming very nauseous. My parents would get very mad at me for this and they would tell me to feed myself even when i was too sick to get up and I would just have to crawl to get food(my parents wouldn't bring me food or try to take care of me). Also in 4th grade i fractured my wrist and wasn't taken to the doctor untill weeks later because my parents didn't believe me when I said it was broken, this cause my wrist to start healing incorrectly and I had to have a full arm cast instead of just a lower arm cast. During this time i still had all the same responsibilities. I would also like to mention that when I was in elementary school we wouldn't have any food to pack for lunch so I would either have free crackers and candies from restaurants that I would steal. Or I would use birthday money to buy school food. I now have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and because I have not had any serious traumatic or abusive events I am wondering if this is the reason or if I am just forgetting something. I also was once thrown into a car by my father which caused me to have two dead front teeth, I don't remember this event exactly but I do remember all that happens after wards. Any way if anyone has an idea of weather or not this is related to my bpd i would really appreciate the insight.

As a child I was in day care from the age of 3 (preschool)to the age of 10(4th grade) for at least 12 hours a day on all weekdays. When I was in preschool I would start at 6 am and stay until 7pm when my parents would pick my brother and I up and we would then go to bed at 8 or 8:30pm. As we grew up we switched to before school care, school, and then after school care. School from kindergarten to about to second grade we had before school care in our school lunch room until it got canceled because we were one of the only families that would go, there were about 14 kids that would go to the morning care. But during that time we would get to school at 6:30 to 7:00, the morning care would start at 7:00 so my brother and I would just wait outside the school on the sidewalk. The actual school day would start at 8:00, we would then start after school care at 3:00. The after school daycare would start at 3:00 and end at 7:30 but most days we would be there until 8pm. After the morning care was canceled my brother and I would just walk ourselves to school, our parents would leave at 6-6:30ish. We would leave the house at 7:30 and normally get there early and would wait outside until school started,but the after school hours were still the same. This went on untill 4th grade when we would just walk ourselves to and from school everyday. Also on every school holiday we would also be at day care until 4th grade. During summer time we would also go to daycare every weekday. Also during this time from the age of 4-5 we would dress ourselves, make our own meals, and be responsible for all of our own health. After 4th grade we would do all the same but we would start waking ourselves up in the morning, and we would be responsible for cooking dinner for the family on weekdays and weekends. During covid when my parents worked from home (5th grade) I had gotten very depressed and I wouldn't feed myself, and because of that I would be very tired and not be able to get out of bed without either passing out or becoming very nauseous. My parents would get very mad at me for this and they would tell me to feed myself even when i was too sick to get up and I would just have to crawl to get food(my parents wouldn't bring me food or try to take care of me). Also in 4th grade i fractured my wrist and wasn't taken to the doctor untill weeks later because my parents didn't believe me when I said it was broken, this cause my wrist to start healing incorrectly and I had to have a full arm cast instead of just a lower arm cast. During this time i still had all the same responsibilities. I would also like to mention that when I was in elementary school we wouldn't have any food to pack for lunch so I would either have free crackers and candies from restaurants that I would steal. Or I would use birthday money to buy school food. I now have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and because I have not had any serious traumatic or abusive events I am wondering if this is the reason or if I am just forgetting something. I also was once thrown into a car by my father which caused me to have two dead front teeth, I don't remember this event exactly but I do remember all that happens after wards. Any way if anyone has an idea of weather or not this is related to my bpd i would really appreciate the insight.

When you wanted me to go on one last camping trip to try to change my mind, I didn’t go. Sometimes I feel torn about not going. Part of me was afraid at the time I’d fall back on my decision to leave. Part of me now just wishes I went. But when I think about the last camping trip we had, I think it’s for the best.
.......
I left work early that Friday so we could take off camping with your friends that weekend. We had to stop by and get some supplies at Walmart on the way. We were walking through walmart and I was having so much fun just being present and enjoying the moment because we were about to have a great weekend trip camping and I was so excited. In my bubbly excitement, I started lightheartedly making jokes and pointing at random objects, saying how this hatchet would make a great addition to our home, etc. You were distracted, with your mind elsewhere, thinking about what we actually needed. You half ignored me/half acknowledged me, in short responses “Oh that’s nice” “Yea that’s cool. Can we get back on track” And when I asked if we could get a veggie burger you told me no harshly and scolded me because you were trying to shop on a budget. The instant dismissal and tone in which you snapped hurt. In my defiance, I said “ Fine I’ll just get it myself so you don’t have to pay for it,” and You said “Fine whatever.” as you turned to keep walking with the cart. Several minutes later, we were in another aisle. I don’t remember what it was that I had pointed at again or asked if we could get. I just remember, you finally lost it with me. You lashed out at me, clearly fed up and pissed, raising your voice to berate me. “Can you SHUT UP and stop pointing at every little fucking thing in the store? Are you trying to annoy me?! I’m in a fucking rush here and I am trying to stay on track so we can get out to the camping site. Just. fucking. Stop.” you couldn’t deal with me. Me, who was just being myself. But to you, it felt like everything I was doing, everything I was saying was on purpose just to annoy you, just to get in your way.
The way you scolded me in public and told me to stop talking entirely just put an instant damper on my cheery mood. In that moment, for me, I was stunned. And I think that’s part of what hurt so much. Just the fact that you could lash out at me in that way, out of the blue. The fact that me being myself, just speaking my mind could make you so angry. The fact that you could, in an instant, be so cruel and uncaring, and speak to me with that tone. That tone that said you hated me, couldn’t stand me, like I was just a buzzing fly you could smack down at any given moment. Wondering why you even invited me if I annoy you so much. Wondering why you’re even with me if me just being myself makes you so angry. Wondering if I should have just been silent the whole time, so as not to trigger you because I didn’t know how to speak without enraging you.. It was just so clear to me in that moment, how little you respected me. And that hurt. Because the whole time, I just wanted your attention, I was trying to connect with you in my own way, trying to have fun and enjoy the moment because I loved you. But you didn’t even want to see me. And just me making attempts at light hearted banter was enough to send you into rage. Because that’s how little you wanted to do with me, that’s how little I meant to you. And I wasn’t even thinking these thoughts, it was an understanding that came to me in a feeling of hurt in a split second. It was understood through the tone of your voice, that threatening contemptuous tone. It was understood through the look in your eyes, warning me.
Immediately, I got quiet standing there with a feeling of whiplash, stunned by how suddenly you snapped and in an instant, I started crying. Tears welled up in my eyes of their own volition before I could even fully process. They say tears are often an unconscious defense mechanism, to let our caregivers know that this person needs to be cared for because they are hurt. But for some reason, whenever I cried, it always had the opposite impact on you.
When you noticed the tears forming, you looked at me with such intense disbelief and rage. With one look, a look I was well familiar with, you sent me into a terrified panic because I knew with that look that I was in trouble for daring to cry, that I had fucked up by showing my hurt, and that you were angrier for it. You rolled your eyes in such exasperation, like you really couldn’t deal with my audacity to dare tear up, and you exclaimed “ Oh my GAWWWD” while simultaneously turning away from me. I quickly tried to apologize and wipe my eyes “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to” You had already just walked off. I stood there a moment, trying to compose myself, before following after you. I looked around, expecting you to be close by but you had walked way across the store and were standing in the checkout line. You were silent when I came up, you didn’t even acknowledge me, and I looked up at you, watching you quietly seethe. Everything about your demeanor said that I had fucked up. Without looking at me, you leaned in close and said in a hushed warning voice “You better stop fucking crying right now,” like I was a child throwing a tantrum in the store. I responded emotionally, “I’m sorry” once more, as I wiped my eyes. I kept my head down, and made myself quiet and small, embarrassed that people could see. Red eyed, barely holding back tears, willing myself not to cry, we checked out one by one. Numb, I started silently scanning the veggie burgers you had tried to stop me from buying earlier, along with half of everything else. An older female Walmart employee walked by, and I ducked my head down to avoid eye contact, embarrassed she might be able to tell. I paid, and you silently checked out as well.
Later in the car, You went off on me, saying I shouldn't ever cry in public because someone might think you hit me and call the cops. You were more concerned with the way I made you look in public (which is why you walked away from me), then the fact that I was hurt, crying, and clearly upset. There was no apology, no admittance of being in the wrong. And I was just thinking that if you had shown any kind of empathy and acted like you gave a shit, asked me what's wrong or if i'm okay, put a hand on my shoulder, then no one would think you beat me. I said as much, and you said “Okay.” There was no “I’m sorry.” no “I was wrong.” Just okay, and silence.
As soon as we arrived at the site, and we unloaded our stuff, I went to grab a drink from the cooler, one that had been in the freezer at our house frozen solid, which had been sitting in the car for last couple hours In a bag of ice in The cooler, and I asked you as I grabbed it “Do you think it's thawed now?” thinking out loud.
And you just looked at me all incredulously as if you were amazed that I could say something so patently ridiculous and said “Thats the dumbest fucking question, why would you even ask that or think that it would still be frozen? Of course it's thawed. Are you an idiot?” You shook your head like you were disappointed I’d be so stupid. like it was so obvious and I was just this huge idiot for even having that passing thought let alone daring to share. You said it loud enough that I worried some of the other couples around us heard and I just remember feeling so hurt, so small, and stupid, on top of being embarrassed and ashamed. I felt so small, so disrespected, so dismissed, so ridiculed, and it hurt because it was coming from the one person I cared about. Instantly, I just got quiet, and sad. The way you could belittle me so easily and at a whim at any given moment, no matter what I said. Wondering why I even bother to speak with you at all. To ever ask you anything. To ever even speak out loud. I did my best to shove down my hurt feelings, to not let it show, and to carry on socializing with your friends. Because you had trained me well not to show that in front of other people, and I figured it wouldn’t go well having a meltdown in front of your friends.
And I remember during the evening by the campfire, I stayed up and listened to you and Joey speak. I was in the background, not saying anything, Just listening. And I remember having a lot of thoughts about the topics you were speaking about. But I didn’t say a word. The whole time. Because I just figured that was what you wanted from me. To be quiet. To not say anything stupid. To not piss you off. Because it was so clear to me how stupid and uninteresting my thoughts were to you. And I knew it was not safe to have a dissenting opinion during banter with you. It wasn’t like you ever even made an effort to include me in the conversation, to ask me what I thought anyway. And I figured it wasn’t even worth the risk to say the wrong thing. After Joey eventually went to bed, you tried to talk to me. And I was just kind of quiet, defeated, tired, unresponsive. You asked me “Why don’t you say anything.” I told you I was just tired. But the truth was I was upset, I was doing my best to bury my feelings, to not talk about it, because I knew you didn’t like it when I showed that I was upset. It’s hard to want to have a conversation with someone who will randomly punish you for saying the wrong thing. And I was terrified of doing that again. Like the way you punished me was infrequent, but frequent enough, where I never knew if I was going to trigger a bad response again.And I had no idea how to not say something you would find stupid, because everytime I triggered you, I was just being myself. So then I was left feeling like I couldn’t speak my mind or say anything at all because I could step on a land mine at any given moment.
Later that night as I drifted to sleep, I started wondering if you got that new air mattress and tent from your camping trip with Josie. The one you lied to me about. And I wondered if she slept on this mattress with you back then, in the same tent.
Throughout the weekend, this dynamic continued and colored the rest of the trip, which for that reason ended up being not as great as I had thought it would be. Any fun and casual conversation I was having would be immediately ruined by you calling me an idiot who didn't know what I was talking about. It really hurt every time and it was like you didn't even realize you were doing it. That cruelty, that belittling, that contempt, it just came so naturally to you.
And then there was the whole incident with the cave conversation. When I finally decided to join in the conversation between you and Joey’s kid nephew talking about the cave system. And I asked apparently a stupid question. And the way that you belittled me so callously and cruelly right infront of that kid. That shit hurt. And he was just watching us, looking back and forth. And I remember turning away and discontinuing engaging in the conversation because I couldn’t get into it with you then. I just sat there, in the lawn chair, willing myself not to cry, while I thought about how depressed and lonely I was. I started talking to Joey’s sweet little niece who came up and started showing me pictures, and I just nodded and smiled, talking to her while half out of it, just trying to hold back my tears. And honestly, I had a better conversation with her than I had with you the entire trip. They say kids can be cruel because they are socially inept, but those kids were so much nicer than you..
Later you were so convinced you were in the right you said “Even the kid was looking at you like you were stupid because you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about because you weren’t in the cave” And Im just thinking this has nothing to do with me not understanding caves and everything to do with your cruelty and the way you constantly put me down like its second fucking nature. But you couldn’t understand that. You were so convinced you were right, and I was wrong.
And towards the end I stopped engaging in conversation all together if you were present because I didn't want to be punished for saying the wrong thing. And I just remember thinking how sad it was that your friends spoke to me with more respect than my own boyfriend and I started wondering why I ever even agreed to go on this trip in the first place.
And you wonder why i didn’t want to go camping with you again after the last time.

Not sure If i’m just panicking because I lost my other dog recently and assuking the worst.
Came home last night and cupped my little boys face like i usually do and I usuallybstroke near his eyes and he cried out. I felt all over him and couldnt figure out what caused it.
Then i went on the wipe his eyes from the tears they get and he cried out again.
I determiend it was pain around his eye. Both on top and on bottom and a bit in his mouth where i thought I felt a very small bump
He goes out occasionally if the weather is right due to his trachea issues. He has a mild to moderate case. He doesn’t bark much at all. Used to never bark until moved in with my inlaws dogs. They chew kangeroo tail and duck neck.
Should I be worried. This is the first time this happened. It doesn’t like he has any injuries. Any idea what could cause this?

I apologize, the reason this is so long is because 1.) I suck at summarizing 2.) backstory of some sort is needed to understand this excuse of a man and/or human being. 3.) I’m not a good storyteller, but you are, Charlotte, and I know you can take this mess of info and turn it into a beautiful, long-time-coming, petty revenge story for your channel. Because what is more petty than an herbal, flowery Trojan horse no one knows about?
Cast: OP-me Swister- my older sister Mom - mine and my sister’s mom, grandmother to Trish/Patty BIL- exactly who it says, and a huge butthole. Patty/Trish - the same person, a four year old little girl, product of union between BIL and Swister.
Some (bit rambling to explain some stuff) backstory:
Last winter, to get out of the horrible, freezing, painfully striking sleet (it would not pass over our town, was just there, stuck in a vortex, for what seemed like eternity) of January in our hometown (we were always just a couple degrees away from it being snow, and quite a few times we got lots of hail, some as big as softballs, and could damage cars and punch through windshields, etc. I know this sounds like ‘The Long Winter’ by Laura Ingalls Wilder, but both me and my mom (I’m disabled and have to live with someone to help in every day life, I’m not a high school dropout living in mommy’s basement playing fortnight or assassin’s creed and have memorized cheat codes. The only video games I’ve ever played were duck hunt, which my grandpa actually got for himself bc he loved to hunt, so I only got to play it in turns with my five other cousins when we visited him); and N64’s Zelda:Ocarina of Time. I hope those titles illustrate for you the last time I played a video game. Oh! And the Oregon Trail, but I always died of some disease that doesn’t happen today or is curable with fluids, rest, and maybe some penicillin. But I digress.) but both me and my mom and my older sister (who was pregnant at the time) and BIL moved about 15 minutes down a little used two lane highway. And when my niece was born late 2019, we named her Patricia after my grandmother. (Patty or Trish for short).
My BIL claims he can smell everything ten times better than any other human, ‘probably because I’m an Alpha Male, and I need heightened senses to protect my pack, my family.’ Okay, I won’t deny he is sensitive to scent, but if his food doesn’t come out smelling right (almost always made special order bc of his ‘allergies’ (that’s what he tells the waitress; in reality, he just doesn’t want stuff he doesn’t like on his plate, and is too fucking lazy to just take the single pickle chip off the McDonald’s cheeseburger. If half of America can do it, why not him? ‘I might smell and taste it with my superhuman olfactory senses.’ He said with a very sincere, serious tone and face, like I was in special education and couldn’t understand it was 1,2,3, not 1,3,2. He is an arrogant misogynistic asshole. My sister could have done sooooooo much better. Idk y she chose him to marry (for a general idea of all what he looks like, speaks like, and sounds like (minus the slight lisp) is the video of the ‘dating coach’ who took the video in his car, opening it with ‘you do not have to accept her rejection, say things like I’m the best, why wouldn’t you want me, you should see my basement with ropes and pulleys and hooks, and do you know what a did with her that night? Well, it’s not appropriate to talk about on this platform”… yeah, that guy, except for the lisp, could be my BIL IDENTICAL twin. Anyway, now you know BIL is a creepy, asshole, bastard with no sense of boundaries or personal space, who think women are lesser than him. Moving on.
I also suffer from anxiety, insomnia, and a few other things that require me to take meds that can slow down your breathing, so if I can take care of my pain, anxiety, and insomnia without having to take a narcotic or benzo, and it works, I choose that path first. Some of these ways are ice packs, heating pads, a special herbal tea, aromatherapy, yoga, sleeping surrounded by pillows like I were in a nest, making sure to do a little bit of some exercise and always taking my daily walks (I don’t want the pain to get so bad from being sedentary I will require a wheelchair before I absolutely have to) and don’t always want to be popping clonapen or oxy or morphine all day and falling asleep, especially around my niece. I don’t want her to ever believe pills fix problems.
So to escape the horrible winter in our new home environment, my mom decided to use her saved-up reward points and book us all a ten day trip to Disney Aulani Hawaii, specifically Disney bc of my niece. My mom and I had been there before, in 2020, right when resorts opened back up at much less than capacity because of COVID rules, and we had gone for a week, so I knew they had an awesome spa I could spend my saved vacation money on.
The minute we step into our two bedroom, two full bath (each with both a shower and separate tubs!), an ok sized but capable kitchen, and a nice, big, comfy furniture filled common room/living room. All of my stuff I put in the room I’d be sharing with my mom, then took my niece to go and get her first Shirley Temple (they are a virgin cocktail I have loved as a kid, still do, that are super easy to make the ghetto way - diet 7up (diet taste better in the cocktail, idk why, it just the way the Gods have decreed it so), grenadine, and maraschino cherries (as many as you want, but kids usually get two and adults one. I think this is unfair) and tada! You have a Shirley Temple.
So I’m walking back to the room, both of us holding our reusable drink cups for our stay (if you bring the cup with you, you get any non alcoholic drink for free during your stay. Coolcool.) And I open the door and hear my mom and sister begging BIL to just stop it, let it go, just enjoy the ten days here. BIL is in MY room, going through MY things, yelling at mom and sis to leave him alone, he has to find it, it reeks, etc. I’m like, GTFO of my stuff, this is extremely violating, sister, are you not concerned and pissed he is pawing through my bra and panties right now, ‘looking for hidden pockets’?
Finally, he grabs this 15 or 20 mL vial I have, a pain relieving roll on I use for my migraines and tension headaches, about $55 after tax, not including S&H. I had left my almost empty one at home, and this was a brand new vial, safety wrapping still on. He blames me, said I was trying to ruin ‘his hard earned vacation’ (he has no job, only looks after my niece enough to feed her (most of the time) and my sister had to find a high -enough paying job so she could work from home so she could do every job like she were a single mother. The only chore he does, and only like 65% of the time (they love to eat out and/or order in) is cooking, and as much as I hate him, sometimes his dishes are good. Not phenomenal, like he practically requires everyone to praise it as, even if he just added sage basil and oregano to a frozen pizza.
So I ask, “how the hell can you smell that? There is the outer plastic seal and the inner lid seal?” And he goes off on being an Alpha Males and olfactory nonsense. Then he takes the vial and runs out of the room with it. He takes it to a housekeeping services cart several doors down and spikes I into her trash can, which by the thunk sound the vial made told me not only was her trash nearly or almost nearly empty, and that he had broken and wasted a valuable medical tool because he is batshit crazy and doesn’t see me as a person outside of how I interact with his everyday life, like I’m a NPC who doesn’t exist or say anything until a real person player comes into my field of awareness. He pawed through every item I owned, including underwear and opening my tampons one to sniff (I especially bought no scented for this trip, and he went and ruined a whole box of them (I’m not putting a previously opened and practically stuck up my BIL’s nose tampons! It’s not just unsanitary, it’s gross on so many levels! I also save up what little money I have leftover from my SSDI monthly checks, so over several months, I had saved up to buy that, bc it worked where others just smelled good but didn’t take the tension headache or migraine away. He has never had to pay for things with his own money, so has no concept of it, of saving money, of worth.
I stewed and stewed and I knew I had to be as petty as possible and still not get caught. I was still thinking these thoughts on our third to last day while I got an unusual massage at the Aulani spa. First is usual deep tissue massage, but then they rub your back and skin with tingly oils and take what looks like the contents of a bag of tea (very heady and fragrant in that small room) and rub it all over you, wrap you up for 15 min, scrape it off you, also taking excess body oil and dead skin cells with it as it goes. And then, smelling all those wonderful scents, I had a genius thought. As she scraped the herbs and stuff off my skin into a bowl, I asked for a to go bag for the herbs, and pretended I wanted to put them in a foot bath I was giving myself tonight in my room. Shockingly, they agreed, and gave me all the scrapings, herbs, essential &body oils, and dead skin cells, in a linen drawstring bag they said I could just toss the whole bag into the hot water.
Now, when I travel, I always pack duct tape in my checked baggage. To make sure shampoo, conditioner, lotion, stuff like that, wet and messy? So it will stay in the bottle with the top duct taped both on shut and to the top of the bottle. Nobody was in the room; they were taking a hike my physical disabilities made very challenging (like an 7-8/10 for me, and a 3.4.5/10 for them) over broken terrain and off trail a bit to climb to a waterfall, so I had said ‘I’m going to the spa. Peace!’ So nobody was back from the hike yet, but I had no idea when they would be, so I acted fast. I grabbed my duct tape and went into sister and BIL’s room and squished and squiggled my way as far under the bed as I could, an duct taped the linen bag of herbs and scrapings right under where he would lay his head to rest at night (according to his ‘Alpha Wolf’ status, he was always on the side of the bed between the door and the rest of his collectables in his room.
We had that day, two more days, and three nights left. BIL did not sleep a wink during that entire time - he had housekeeping change the bedding (including duvets and their covers) several times in that small frame of time, and demanded of my mom to rent him (on my moms dime, not this 40 y o mans money, the mooching leach, but her carefully budgeted money and visa card points hoarded over years.) his own, just perfectly sanitized room, obviously something had been left here by a former guest that was rotting. Finally, FINALLY my mom and sister had HAD IT. He whined and moaned more than my four yo niece. They finally ripped him a new one, saying he had been acting like an entitled baby man with delusions he is more important than he is, that we as women should fawn over him, and that he had already ruined all of ours, but especially my vacation by tossing my personal property and screaming at me for wearing perfume when I didn't even pack any. At one point I even piped up, ‘I didn’t put up with my father treating me like this, what makes you think I’m gonna take it from you?’ (AN/OP: my father abused me and mom and sister our whole lives. Lots of verbal, emotional, psychological abuse. Sister had it pretty literally; mom had it worst. But when my dad had 100% custody of me at beginning of divorce, my sister went away to college and moved out within the following two weeks, and I was his sole remaining target. For three years straight. Other, even more horrible disgusting things he did to me I’ve only just started to talk about, and don’t want my whole life blasted online while I deal.
So i got my silent, sweet-smelling revenge. For those 3 days and 3 nights, he didn't sleep a wink, which meant he couldn't keep his 'good guy' image up, and everyone saw how he treats me, and I'm no longer a liaexaggerating. I hope some act of God, or him driving around while completely wasted, as he does every single freaking day. He a waste of space, a waste of oxygen.
Again, the reason this is so long is because 1.) I suck at summarizing 2.) backstory of some sort was needed 3.) I’m not a good storyteller, but you are, Charlotte, and I know you can take this mess of info and turn it into a beautiful, long-time-coming, petty revenge story for your channel. Because what is more petty than an herbal, flowery Trojan horse type thing?
PS: he never did repay me for the OVER $300 worth of MY STUFF he upped and just tossed, or first broke then tossed, because it either offended his nose or him, personally, even though he begrudgingly promised to do so, and my sister promised he would. I only had like a 10% belief he would, but he has no money of his own, how was he gonna do that? Yes, I admit, I keep a record of anything I hear about him doing something negative, so one day if my sister even starts to consider divorce, I can whip out journal/notebook and show her his patterns, and he has always been this way, and he won’t ever change.

When I was in junior high a transfer student arrived in the middle of the semester; a kid that was different from everyone else. Right away he had caught my eye, in fact he caught everyone's attention because he had a very unique disability; he couldn’t speak. I guess you could say he was deaf, though it was clear to me after getting to know him that he could in fact hear; every word spoken to him was understood with simple nods or gestures; facial expressions contorting into understood language; so I guess he was mute; yeah, that would describe him best. He was an oddity to most but to me he was a unicorn, something that sparkled in our dim monotonous lives and it wasn’t until he revealed who he was did I become terrified of him and his shine.
I was in 7th grade maneuvering my way through the jungle of middle school, avoiding trouble and premature violence. I was an undersized boy for my age, no more than 5ft tall; puberty had yet to visit me leaving me left out of the herd; the other students or the ‘sheep’ as I called them that infested my school. They were all the same, kids that were driven by hormones constantly talking about boys or girls, their deep voices riding on the coattails of the wind that breezed in and out of our hallways. I was a mere shadow, always walking a few paces behind the others not wanting to be seen or acknowledged; I saw what others that looked like me went through, they were tortured and abused for simply existing.
Once Bryce Ellis and his friends stuck Timmy Easton’s face in the shitter for over 10 flushes, I was in a stall over, hiding and waiting for the torment to be over. I slithered my feet up on to the stall caressing them to my chest as I sat in a fetal position horrified of how one human could treat another. Eventually the bullies had gotten bored, their short attention span driven minds directed them to another endeavor leaving Timmy to fester in his tears and possible filth.
He sobbed for minutes that felt like hours as I remained silent in the stall over, I placed my hand cautiously on the barrier wall trying to absorb a bit of his pain, my heart ached for him in that moment and I wanted to lend him a compassionate hand if only I had the courage to do so. So yeah, I did my best to stay hidden, unseen to all the dwellers that mindlessly walked in and out of our school on a daily basis, the boys that believed themselves to be men or the girls that pontificated to anyone that listened. I was lost into an enteral sea of vindictive young adults that searched for any reason to lash out at anyone that stood in their way.
So when ‘Tape boy’ — as they would eventually call him — came to my little middle school that stood still in the secluded hills of our small town I was enthralled almost immediately with his existence. He was introduced to my home room class, I sat in the back burying my head into my arms, occasionally lifting my head to listen on the days lecture. My day dreams entertaining me as the clock slowly ticked away at our lives and it wasn’t until my teacher promptly stopped talking did it trigger a primal emotion in me to sit up and pay attention. I postured myself up straight, pausing the internal movie that played in my mind to see what the interruption was about.
There he was, a new boy that no one had ever seen before, by middle school everyone knew each other; we had went to the same elementary school, the same holiday events and grocery stores. So getting a new student was like getting a new flavor at Baskin Robbins; a mystery taste simmering on the tip of your tongue as you digested every drop, his presence was intriguing. He wasn’t small like me, I would say average height for a 12 year old; about 5'4, slender body with unkempt dark black hair. He looked timid, his head tilted towards the ground not wanting to accidentally lock eyes with any of us as the teacher introduced him, my mind wandering with such intrigue because to all of our astonishment he was wearing a surgical face mask — mind you this was in the 90’s; eons before the Covid pandemic breached the windows of our thoughts.
Right away I could hear the murmurs, the questions erupting throughout the classroom as everyone pondered of why this boy sheltered his face. I stared on for what must of been minutes as the shy boy kept his gaze down, I could see him slightly squeezing the arm straps to his backpack nervously the longer he stood there on full display for all.
I had my fill and I relaxed my postured sinking back into my chair directing my stare out the window but then Billy Sherman asked the question we all had on our minds,
“Uhm, why is he wearing that mask?”.
Our teacher explained to us that it was because of some weaken immune system, something about how his ticker didn’t click like the rest of ours, she then also told us about him being mute. This drew my eyes right back to him, I think it did for all of us and for a moment the quiet kid raised his head and locked eyes with me. His dark black eyes glistened with despair, the deep purple bags that sagged under his eyes were more indicative of someone that hadn’t slept in days. I felt something for him in that moment, our third eye conversing in some cosmic dialogue and as quickly as he rose his head did it drop once again towards the ground. I could still hear all the the other kids snickering, questioning and some even giggling; it made me sick, if I was a braver boy I would of stood on top of my desk and verbally lashed out to all the sheep, instead I rose my hand asking something Mrs. Willis never said, what was the timid boys name?
“Oh I’m sorry, how rude of me, this is Gabriel”.
She sat Gabriel upfront next to her desk, wanting him close in case he needed to write or sign something to her and just like that everyone went back to their simple lives; including myself.
The next few weeks I saw little of Gabriel other than the back of his head during class, once the bell rang everyone that my eyes glimpsed at for the day disappeared or just maybe it was me who dissolved into the ambience of our school. Either way I saw little of the boy who wore a mask, the one that sheltered his true identity and my curiosity with the new flavor of the week gradually faded into the abyss of non-existence; well, that was until the day I saw the mask slip.
It was end of the day, I spent most of the time turning corners anytime Bryce Ellis approached; evading the wrath of him and his band of merry men who were the pinnacle of human torture; finding any opportunity to demean those who crossed their path. I remember leaving Chemistry class, my mind all to occupied with leaving the hell hole of every kids dread and that’s when I saw Gabriel walking down the hall towards the cafeteria; his head still tilted down; his gaze tracking every step he took; face mask still tightly fitted around his face.
This time I saw someone was following him, it was Tom Ingram one of Bryce’s guys, a kid that tried to be the “alpha male” of the group numerous times, doing his best to dethrone the reign of Bryce. He was a big boy for his age, probably about 5'9 and easily weighed 200 pounds, he was a wild card alright; he got caught pouring sugar down Mr. Whitakers old Pontiac gas tank for giving him a poor grade. So when I saw him berating poor Gabriel; taunting him as grotesque laughter followed every insult, I felt like I had to do something and my consistent stealth veneer of camouflage morphed into into a full on sprint towards the two. I saw Tom was closing in on him, other kids looking on with bewilderment on their faces — not knowing if they should laugh out of fear or grimace from disgust. For the first time in a long while did a burning sensation of courage ignite in my soul, I was tired of seeing monsters preying on the sheep and I was going to stop it somehow.
Finally Gabriel had stopped walking and stood still, his head hanging even lower than before, the strands of his long hair covered the remainder of his face. Tom began slapping the top side of the poor kids head, yelling out obscenities, angered that he didn’t stop sooner. I was close, I was gonna stop this since all anyone else could do is cower in fear while looking on and then it happened causing me to stop dead in my tracks, my eyes widening with befuddlement. Tom had torn away the mask from Gabriel's face, awes with groans came from everyone then silence blanketed the entire school and for those few seconds our existence had been swallowed up by the earth itself.
“What the hell” Tom yelped out breaking the still but heavy disquietude.
I wanted to say something, but no words could be manifested only gurgles as I choked on my own disbelief. The timid boy under the mask of intrigue had a strip of black duct tape covering his mouth, it stretching from the side of his face to the other almost resembling what would be some hideous smile. The timid boy then collapsed his hands over his face as faint muffles of sobbing protruded from him, he ran into the nearest restroom only for Tom to pursue. Finally my thoughts had been gathered while my body came back to life, I brushed off the bizarre occurrence of that grizzly smile and I reminded myself of what was about to happen. Tom was going to punish Gabriel for simply existing as he and his gang have been doing for years and like some old factory machine the cogs of my body set into motion as I ran towards the restroom.
Before I could open the door the most horrid scream exploded outwards into the hallway, the sound sending a cold shiver down my spine and Tom came running out of the restroom gripping at his face crying. He was hysterical running and bumping into the walls until finally crumbling onto the floor only to continue sobbing. My mind was clouded with a whirl wind of confusion, I no longer knew what to do, I mean I was going to run in there and stop the assault but now the assaulter was on the floor destroyed. Then Gabriel calmly came out of the restroom, his mask firmly back on and he turned to look at me, his dark eyes burning an image of anguish into my mind. I asked if he was okay of course he said nothing though, he didn’t need to I could just sense his response and it was one of gratitude. I almost could see him smiling at me from underneath the mask and I reminded myself of what was under it; that abysmal duct tape that looked like a sinister grin.
From that day on most of the kids were afraid of Gabriel, I could see the look of terror in their eyes anytime he passed by them even though his headed was still shifted downwards but that’s the day whenever someone mentioned him they referred to him as “Tape boy”. I had heard through the whispers of our school that Tom had suffered some mental breakdown, that the doctors couldn’t find anything psychically wrong with him, it was as if his mind had shattered. He remained in some mental hospital, memories of him gradually fading and the sheep went on with living their mundane lives. Bryce even slowed his bullying, I think he knew that their were now more eyes watching everyone after the altercation and he didn’t want to get caught in some bad situation, though I could see he was itching to get at Gabriel. I went back to being a shadow, avoiding all the others still not too confident that the days of torture were over.
Even though Gabriel was regarded as some magical or perhaps malevolent being by most; not sure which one; he still appeared to be sad; lonely, his head always dragging with despondency. I made an effort in getting to know him, I wasn’t afraid like the rest of them something about the day we locked eyes gave me the resolve to understand he wouldn’t hurt me. I approached him during lunch break, he was outside sitting underneath a tree, the shade showering him a gloom of haze. I think I surprised him or maybe it was just my stealth nature but I saw him jump when I sat next to him. I began talking about the origins of Darth Vader, of how he was originally a hero using his force power for good only to eventually turn to the dark side.
Gabriel just looked at me confounded of why I was even talking to him, his stare looking on with indifference. I told him that he was like a super hero, doing whatever he did to Tom was just like a super power, that I was thankful. His gazed then returned back to the floor almost out of shame, I guess whatever he did that day he didn’t see it as something special, or something to praise. I then told him that I still envied his ability to defend himself, that having such an ability was better than winning the school lottery — which was a week supply of free cafeteria food. I kept blabbering on for the remainder of the break while he still postured his stare towards the floor until the bell had finally rung. Before getting up I told him that if I could have a super power mine would be invisibility that’s when he turned to me pulling out a small spiral from his back pack writing something down, he then showed me.
“Why?” it read.
I told him that I didn’t like being seen, that if I could I would melt away into the noise, then life would be better he just stared at me with what I could assume was disbelief. He didn’t write anything back, he just remain seated while I stood to my feet. I asked if he was coming back to class but he ignored me and just stared out into space presumably lost in his own thoughts.
For the next several months I would catch Gabriel in the hallways, talk to him about the latest edition of whatever comic I was reading, Superman being my favorite and I would go on and on about how his true super power wasn’t strength but hope. I think he became more comfortable with me, pulling out his spiral notebook to write down his thoughts; his questions and answers — a new gateway of communication had formed between us. Most times I could tell what he was going to write by looking at his eyes, those dark haunting eyes, he was a mysterious book slowly being revealed to me and I was completely beguiled by his friendship. Bryce and his little posse slowly went back to bullying the sheep, though they kept their distance from Gabriel and me.
I guess I had a new protector one that wouldn’t be crossed and something about that protection left me feeling proud. I knew in my heart that the timid kid that now went by “Tape boy” wouldn’t hurt a fly that maybe the day of Tom going crazy was all by chance, perhaps his rage snapped his mind. I tried asking him about that day numerous times but he never explained what happened he would redirect the conversation back to super hero’s. I would walk home with him on certain days, well, more like he would walk me home I never got to see where he lived, he was too reserved to give up that kind of information but the days we would walk together was always fun. I finally felt like I belonged, the longing emotion of needing acceptance was found by his friendship.
One day when I was walking home by myself I decided to stop in at the gas station to pick up a drink and scour the latest edition of comic books in the small rack of magazines. Before entering the store I could hear arguing voices engaging in combative dialogue and it became vividly clear that it was more of a yelling match than conversation. It was coming from the side of the building, most times I would just ignore it but one of the voices sounded all too familiar and I crept slowly to the edge of the building poking my head out to get a glimpse of the disturbance. It was Bryce, his back was up against the wall while someone who I presumed was his father berated him with such a vicious snarl on his face. The angry man kept slapping Bryce across the face anytime he tried to say something and soon tears began drizzling off the face of the mighty bully only for the man to laugh.
I didn’t know why the older man was treating Bryce the way he was, information cut out of my understanding, for all I know it could of been because of something the bully did at school. I found it to be poetic justice that the boy that caused so much heart ache suffered the same amount only at home. It felt like a cliche, the angry kid was angry because of the angry father; a cruel loop of never ending proportions. Eventually the man or father walked away getting back into his car leaving the bully to brush away the tears from his face. I cautiously retreated my head away deciding to ditch the store completely when that same broken voice only minutes ago shouted out to me with a hefty dominance.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bryce howled out.
I didn’t bother turning around, I just ran home, dodging into alley ways trying my best to not been seen. It didn’t appear as if he was following, but seeing him in such a vulnerable state was bemusing. We were a small town how could I not know who the man was, we all knew each other since we were small and then it hit me; Bryce’s dad had left when he was little. This man must of been his step dad or perhaps mom’s boyfriend, it didn’t matter I was going to mind my own business, I was going to slither back into the shadows; but my attempts would only fall on defeated shoulders.
I didn’t want to tell anyone of what I saw, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut would of been enough for the bully to leave me be. Unfortunately there is no reasoning when it comes to human beings, we base our actions on emotions, our anger and Bryce confronted me the next morning in front of Gabriel.
“Hey fairy, did you enjoy the show?” the angry kid spouted out at me.
I tried explaining to him that I wasn’t trying to intrude, that the arguing concerned me, that I didn’t like seeing him being mistreated and then he punched me right in the gut. I fell to the floor gripping at my stomach, the pain slicing through every fiber of my body. I tried catching my breath but inhaling was too painful and I sheltered my face expecting another punch but the bully walked off leaving me to sweat. Gabriel kneel down to me taking out his spiral notebook writing the obvious question, I gestured to him to give me a moment and I honestly felt like crying. I had spent years doing my best to blend into the background, the invisibility power I was so desperate to have amongst the sheep was now gone; I was on Bryce’s radar.
For the remainder of the school year I tried avoiding the bullies, the monsters that preyed on the sheep but their leader would actively search for me, he was no longer intimidated by Gabriel; his once menacing allure had dwindled and now we both were sitting ducks. Luckily there was only a few weeks left until summer break and I only had hoped that the time off would be enough for the monster of monsters to cool off.
Entering summer was a relief much needed for my sanity, I took a few thrashings but it was over, me and Gabriel had big plans on spending time together. He wasn’t an out door kind of kid, he usually would just come over my place and we would read my comic books. He quickly grew enchanted with the idea of super hero's, their powers restoring balance to the nature of our world. I enjoyed every minute of it, my parents on the other hand looked less jovial to our friendship, they didn’t like the mask; it worried them. They thought that whatever illness he had could be passed on to me, but they didn’t do anything to stop us from seeing each other, they only silently protested.
So after awhile we decided to meet somewhere outdoors, away from my parents judgmental stares, there was a creek close to my house, the trees giving us enough shade to stay cool on those long summer days. The small stream that flowed through the trenches of the creek enriched our view as we would find the perfect rock to perch on while reading our comics. We didn’t see much of any of the other classmates that summer, the sheep kept their distance or maybe it was just us, but the days seem to pass quickly and before we knew it summer was coming to an end. I couldn’t remember how many volumes we must of read but Gabriel was now a fan of almost every super hero. He tend to raise out his arms while walking, mimicking the premise of flying like Superman; his ponderous eyes cutting through the brush as we escaped our secluded summer spot.
It was on the final day of our summer break did I pressure the shy timid boy to explain to me what had happen that day, the day Tom lost his marbles, I needed to know. Gabriel as always tried redirecting the conversation, holding up a comic of Batman, pointing at some dialogue. I got upset, I raised my voice telling him that if we were friends then he should tell me, that there wasn’t secrets between us. His heavy eyes collapsing to the ground, shifting his posture on the rock that we both sat on.
“Look, I just need to know, you’re my best friend” I told him with genuine longing.
The school year was about to start up again and I could already envision a future of slithering through the hallways how I have always done, but with Gabriel maybe that could change. I needed to know and I was done guessing, fantasizing that he was some super hero or at least my hero; my protector. I stood up off the rock walking over to the stream, the sound of water colliding unto the small stones that infested the trench triggered something awful in my gut. I took a deep breath and made my final stand with my best friend.
“If you don’t want to tell me then I’m going home, see ya” I said with impatience dripping off of my words.
Gabriel ignored my warning and continued pointing at the comic book, that’s when I noticed what he was pointing at, it wasn’t dialogue it was one of Batman's villains — he was pointing at Clayface. This made me stop, my minding halting after speeding at 100 miles per hour; it crashing my thoughts.
“Yeah, what about Clayface?” I curiously asked with a withered and tired voice.
That’s when his pointer finger was no longer on the page but rather it was pointed towards his mouth; the mouth that was hidden behind his mask. He could see my face drop with sadness, whatever disfigurement he had underneath that horrid black duct tape must of been something like the villain from the comic and my heart broke for him. Gabriel’s eyes gleaming with absolute sorrow, the boy that only wanted to be left alone, the person all the others feared just wanted solitude and here I was badgering him to no end about something so insignificant. We stared at each other for several seconds, our eyes meeting in some altered state and I reached my hand up to his face tenderly taking off his mask. There it was, the black duct tape that resembled a grin, a nightmarish one that could only been seen in some horror movie. I then placed my fingers on the edge of the tape, my cold grip causing him to shiver and I slowly began to remove it.
“What the hell are you fairy’s doing?” a voice called out from the brush, one that sank my heart into my stomach.
I turned trying to locate the voice and sure enough there he was, the bully that had tortured so many for so many years — it was Bryce. His body slowly revealing itself from the brush like some despicable ooze frothing from the depths of hell. Though, something about him was different, his cold stare no longer fictitious but more intimidating and as his body fully emerged did I see the blood trickling down his soaked stain shirt. He was covered in the crimson fluid, there was even some on his cheeks almost as he had some open wound and smeared the remnants of it on his face. The devilish grin that bestowed his bruised and beaten face quickly led me to a conclusion; one that I wish I didn’t conclude. A purplish black infested the out layer of his left eye, it practically closed shut and his nose had been bent to a unsightly angle. I started to whimper as my lips trembled from fright because this Bryce was not the same one that had given us wedgies or swirlies this one was a true monster, a beast that devoured souls. His gaze was enough to display a vacancy of any humanity and my eyes crawled down his arm into his hand to see the black pistol that he firmly gripped.
“Uh, Bryce what happened? Are you okay?” I groaned out while sniffling.
He didn’t answer, he just kept grinning at me, the ghastly smile that stretched ear from ear plagued my vision and I knew that he had done it, that he had hurt someone badly. I was terrified and in the moment I had completely forgotten about Gabriel, my tunnel vision only focused on that firearm.
“Where the hell did the other one go?” the monster asked, I turned and realized Gabriel in fact had run away leaving me behind.
I wanted to run, I wanted to flee while screaming but horror kept me in place and I felt like some dear trapped in headlights contemplating my entire life in mere seconds.
“Everyone always messes with me!” Bryce yelled out with such ferociousness.
There was no talking my way out of this one, no pleading, I knew in that moment he was going to kill me; his rage over flowing to the point of lunacy. He quickly pounced dropping me to the floor, screaming with madness and he repeatedly hit me over the head with the but of the gun causing me to see stars. His words became incoherent sounding like muffled tones that slushed it’s way into my hearing, I shook my head trying to collect myself, just maybe I could figure a way out of this but as soon as my vision corrected itself Bryce would strike me another time causing it to blur once again. I fell into a darkness, my world collapsing into an eternal void of loneliness as my body began to float effortlessly but as soon as I thought this was my final moments flashes of Gabriel flooded into my mind awakening me out of whatever slumber I found myself in. That’s when I realized Bryce was no longer hitting me, instead he was talking to someone and as I grabbed at my head trying to steady my balance I saw it was Gabriel standing still head as always tilted downwards.
Bryce confronted him pointing his 9mm directly at his head yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs but my best friend remained unmoved, just quiet and then he slowly removed his mask. This caused Bryce to pause, his tone weaken and I think for the first time he digested if he should proceed doing what he was doing.
“What are you doing freak?” the bully yelped out.
Gabriel remained quiet, eyes still directed towards the floor, his breathing escalating; I could see his chest pump more vigorously with each passing second. With the mask off me and Bryce could see the bewildering black duct tape strapped to his face, Gabriel’s face began to tremble violently as if he was trying to yell through the bondage. He then finally began to peel of the thick layer of black duct tape and it came off with a wicked screech as I could see my friends eyes squint with pain.
Bryce was no longer pointing the gun at Gabriel, no longer was he even saying a word his arm lowered to his side and both him and I stared on with amazement. What was under the tape was layers of skin, twisting and binding to each other like some thriving organism living it’s own life on Gabriel's face. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t say anything I was in shock and my head still throb from pain. Then Gabriel's mouth — if you want to call it that — began to stretch open, he tilted his head backwards while the mountain of dead flesh started to drip down his face allowing some endless void to open up inside of him. I could hear the cracking of bones breaking, his jaw shifting to accommodate the massive hole that was now his mouth and then horrid dwindling fingers began to protrude from the darkness.
My mouth gaped open with trepidation and if I had the ability to adjust my head I would think Bryce had the same facial expression. Then a grotesque head forced it’s way out of my friends mouth revealing a face that could only exist in the realms of the dead, this new creature having two large almond shape eyes; eyes that looked very similar to the ones that were attached to my friend. This ‘thing’ then stared at Bryce, that’s all it did, no words were spoken no violence was created it just stared at him and soon the bully grasped at his face and began to yell. He ran frantically in different directions, his gun firing out into the tree line, I jumped for cover; falling to the floor sheltering my head with my arms. Bryce’s terrified screams caused my stomach to turn and soon those dire cries stopped along with the gunshots.
I must of stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, too scared to rise to my feet and through my peripheral did I see the sun begin to set plunging the small creak into darkness. I eventually mustered up enough courage to get up and I looked around, Bryce was mere feet away from me, he lay still on the floor blood spewing out of his head; it appeared as if had shot himself. I walked over to his body befuddled of what to do I then remembered Gabriel, I turned to look for him but he was gone it was only me and Bryce's dead corpse. I ran home telling my parents about everything, of the encounter I experienced, at first it seemed as if they didn’t believe me but they still phoned for the police.
I led them to the creek to the bullies dead body, I initially thought perhaps they would blame me, connect me to his death but the police believed me; well the believed me about Bryce but not about Gabriel. They told me that Bryce had killed his step father, apparently they had gotten into some altercation and afterwards he went into his mothers bedroom and shot her to death. They told me that the once bully was a disturbed individual, suffering abuse for many years; that I was lucky to escape from his wrath. I told them that they needed to find my friend I wanted to know if he was okay, but all the officers could do was pat my back with sympathy trying to relax me.
It has almost been 30 years since the event, I still have nightmares of what had happened, I see the dead stare Bryce had while pointing his pistol at me, I see him repeatedly hitting me over the head again and again. Though, what still haunts me more is Gabriel's mouth contorting into that horrid shape revealing the creature that lived inside of him. He was never found, I’m pretty sure he moved on to another city, another place where bullies like Bryce tormented their schools and I could only imagine Gabriel was there to balance the wrongs of the world. I am scared of my best friend, but I know at the same time he is my protector; my super hero, he is out there doing good, I can feel it and I hope he can sense my love for him. Maybe we will never meet again, perhaps it’s not written in the stars for us to reunite but one thing is for sure, I get comic books mailed to me randomly every month; most are of Superman and I know exactly who they are from.

My son will be 3.5 next month. He was a fantastic infant. Ate, slept, smiled, played, etc. once he turned 2.5 all went to shit. Coincidentally that’s when we moved out of our apartment and into my MIL’s house because we are building a house from the ground up.
He is so defiant. Everything is a fight. I’m talking EVERYTHING. Getting dressed, getting undressed, bathing, eating, brushing teeth. EVERYTHING. When he doesn’t get his way, he’s a monster. He will hit and kick and scratch. His speech is exceptional and he has the vocabulary of a four-five year old so I have no idea why he acts the way he does. Just this morning he was mad because I washed his strawberries. He took his dish and flung it. Strawberries everywhere. I demanded he clean it up and he screamed and thrashed and yelled, “NO!” for 30 minutes until he finally went to clean it up (with my help!)
His pediatrician thinks he has anxiety. He just started going to preschool in February 3 days a week for 4 hours and he can get very aggressive with other kids when they tell him “no” or they don’t play how he wants them to. He is not delayed in any way. I was thinking ADHD or Autism but his preschool teacher and pediatrician disagree.
I keep hearing from friends/acquaintances that they can’t wait to have their second or third child while I’m over here barely making it with one. My anxiety is through the roof and I’m not happy. I don’t look forward to my day when I wake up because I know it’ll be another day of tantrums and defiance. I’m so exhausted and drained….

If you are a smaller person you are fun sized or cuddle sized If you are a tall person you are a mountain or a sun toucher If you are an angry person you are a Donald Duck If you are very calm or chill you are the sloth from zootopia (think his name is flash) If you are smart you shall be called keeper of books And my final one is if you are dumb you shall be called Patrick Any other unconventional nickname ideas?

Have no idea where to find duck fat where I live so I’m gonna have to buy online but are there any non ultra processed duck fats for sale online?

I think a lot about signals. Signals that show people what groups they belong to. Signals that hide the truth. Everybody uses signals to blend, entice, or trap.
Grandma Pearl died not long after her stroke, and I've been making bad decisions ever since. Maybe my expectations are too high, or I'm just an idiot. Either way, I ran away from the group home to be with people who called themselves my "family." They were the wrong people. They used the words family, brother, sister, and love like lock picks, stealing trust, and taking self-respect.
The only person I remember using the word family correctly was Grandma Pearl. She was a small woman who toured the US as an actress before settling with Granddad above their theatrical rentals shop. I was three when the car accident took Granddad and Mom, so I don't know if they used the word "family" correctly, but I hope they did.
I was never as outgoing as Grandma, but that didn't bother her; she taught me how to watch people. How to see their signals, and how to listen. When she died. I forgot a lot of those lessons for a while.
They called it a "family". The "family" moved product. That product could be goods, drugs, or people.
The uninitiated, like me, were distracted with food and a dry place to sleep, but it didn't take long to see behind the curtain. Things got too intense with the new "family" and I ran.
I ran back to my old neighborhood. The buildings were familiar even if my home was gone. The old theatrical shop had been turned into a microbrewery.
After an appropriate amount of self-pity, thirty minutes, I wandered the alleys, picking up cans or scavenging for bits and pieces that could be recycled, used, or bartered.
I recognized old faces, but I tried to stay out of sight. It was safer that way.
The only place I allowed myself to be seen was the old Lutheran church on the park's far side. Most people who might have known me had aged out of the congregation or died. It was worth the risk because St. Lazarus had a food pantry in the basement and gave out lunches most days, so I wasn't always hungry, which was nice.
I found a dry spot near the library to sleep, which seemed like a stroke of luck until it wasn't.
I had the contentment that came with being in a familiar place. Little bits of comfort let me believe, for a moment, that I wasn't a screw-up and hadn't trusted the wrong people. That moment scurried away when Stick found me.
Stick was a scary asshole. He technically wasn't in charge of the " family," but he made it work. He got things done. I have no idea how old he was. He was all corded muscle and could clock in between twenty and fifty. He looked half-starved and moved like a stalking predator, even with his limp.
His left leg was stiff. The knee didn't bend, and anytime he sat, his left leg would be splayed to the side like a kickstand on a bike. The leg was why he walked with a cane. The cane and how he used it was why we called him Stick.
I don't know why he took the time to track me down. It's not like I was wanted. Maybe it was that I had become property. Property shouldn't just wander off.
Sometimes, you feel a person before you see them. The air is different. When Stick was around, the air felt dead and motionless. I knew I was being watched before I opened my eyes.
Stick was sitting on a milk crate, his bad leg cocked to the side and his forehead resting on his cane. I pushed myself out from beneath the ductwork of the HVAC unit I had been sleeping under and slapped the dirt off my jeans.
"I thought that was you," Stick said as his sharp grin curved up to his unblinking dark eyes.
Stick wanted my discomfort. I'd seen him play the intimidation game too many times. He'd act too friendly, and then when you were good and worried, quick movements, a hand around the back of your neck, and violence would be next. Then he'd act like the whole mind fuck was a big joke, like you were friends, and isn't it great that you can joke around with someone who "really" cared.
It worked, too. If you were the unfortunate focus of Stick's attention, you would be grateful when he smiled and said, "Just a joke, kid. Don't be so sensitive." I'd seen the pattern enough times to know Stick trained people like dogs with his hot and cold game. I didn't like the game, or the fear, so I changed the pattern.
"Hey, Stick, did you come to help pick up cans?" I asked, making sure my smile reached my eyes. I was trying to be pleasant while ignoring the burning nervousness in my gut.
It was still dark out, but I could see Stick's expressions well enough.
Stick tapped his cane on the sidewalk and squinted at me skeptically before answering. "Just checking on my little brother."
We were not related.
Stick liked to call the uninitiated his little brothers or little sisters. He forced intimacy into his language. I didn't argue the point. Interactions went best with Stick when you agreed with everything he said.
"Thanks, man," I complimented, trying to sound genuine and ignorant as I stepped forward and offered him my hand.
Stick didn't move, but I could see that this conversation wasn't going as planned for him, and I forced myself not to react to his confusion. I couldn't break character, or he would know I was playing him.
Stick tapped his cane on the ground twice, grasped my hand, and stood. He watched me. I held his stare, but in an open, naive, guileless way that I had perfected in front of the mirror as grandma gave acting advice while she put her face on.
I once asked Grandma Perl why anyone would practice acting stupid. She pointed her mascara brush at me and, in her ditsiest Minnesota Nice character, said, "It's easier to be forgiven when people think you're a little dumb, don't ya know?" Like with most things, Grandma was right.
Before I understood what had happened, Stick pulled me into his side and slung an arm around my shoulder.
"You don't have a name yet. Everyone gets a name, but they don't get to pick it." He paused and gave me a Cheshire cat grin. "I have a name for you, little brother. You are going to be called Slide." Then he held my chin and forced eye contact." Your name will be Slide because I have never seen anyone slide out of shit faster than you. I can't tell if you do it on purpose or not, and I've been watching. I watch everybody. You do, too. Hell, this might be the first time I've ever heard you talk. So let's celebrate your name, Slide." Stick's smile slipped as he pulled me out of the alley. "We'll go do something special."
I stayed silent, knowing full well what was coming. Being named meant doing something you could never take back. It was public and would put you in prison if the police ever took the time to look for you. It meant severing yourself from your life before and relying entirely on the "family." I had been absent each time naming seemed to be in the cards, but I couldn't duck out this time.
There was only one place to go at this time of night that would have an impact, the Bodega.
The Bodega was a red hole in the wall with a glass door papered over with grocery ads years outdated. Canned salmon two for one seemed to be the dominant theme. Although there were two large windows, one on either side of the door, you could barely see in. The right window was a tapestry of cigarette promotions. The left window displayed the only swath of uncovered glass with a view of the interior. From the outside, the view was of tobacco, lottery scratchers, and Old Lady Imitari.
Old Lady Imitari owned the store. She was a short, dark-haired woman who always wore a long floral tank top. Grandma Pearl loved the old woman but said Imitari looked like an old man's thumb all the years she had known her, and Grandma moved to the neighborhood with Grandad thirty years ago. Imitari was a local legend even then because the Bodega was open twenty hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, and no one else worked in the store. Grandma used to make an extra strong coffee called Barako and chat with Imitari sometimes when work in the shop was slow.
I would sneak out at night and try to catch Imitari sleeping. No matter the time, I never caught her snoozing, and she always saw me peeking at her through the window. I know she saw me because she would uncross her arms and wave her flyswatter at me.
All these memories flicked through my mind as Stick smiled his too-wide smile and pushed me into the Bodega.
Imitari flicked her fly swatter at me in acknowledgment, and her attention returned to the small TV she had nestled beside the cash register, which seemed to be the old woman's only real tether to the world outside her shop.
The inside of the Bodega was just a long hallway with shelves of convenience foods, drinks, home supplies, candy, and cold meds covering every available surface from floor to ceiling. The only break in the tunnel of products was the glass counter at the back corner of the store; Imitari presided over her mini domain by casually ignoring her shoppers. I tried to make eye contact with the old woman again as Stick pushed me to the back of the shop, but after her initial acknowledgment of our entrance, Imitari's eyes stayed focused on her TV.
As casually confident as possible, I walked to the cooler and grabbed an iced tea. "Want a drink," I asked over my shoulder, my voice unusually steady, given the electric current of anxiety flowing through me.
Stick sneered and tapped his cane twice on the ground. His eyes found all the security cameras in the tiny store, a frown creasing his angular features.
I followed his line of sight and finally realized what had bothered him. The cameras were fake. They looked like security cameras, but they weren't. There were no wires or lenses, just rectangles and circles in a security camera shape.
Stick took a deep breath and tapped his cane on the ground again. " There… is … so… much… here… to… see… but… no… one… is… watching," he said with a singsong. Then his sneer turned into a cruel smile.
I knew Stick wanted an audience for what he would force me to do. The fact that the security cameras were fakes meant that whatever was going to happen would now have to be significant. An event that the neighborhood wouldn't be able to ignore. My stomach twisted with the thought.
Stick waggled his eyebrows at me. He had been watching. He had seen my thoughts, and we both knew he had something terrible in mind.
The cane twirled in Stick's hand and then tapped twice on the shop tile.
"I think I want a little bit of this," Stick said, gesturing wildly with his cane, sending a row of soup cans tumbling to the floor. "And a little bit of that," Stick added as another wild gesture sent cups of ramen spinning and knocking glass bottles of hot sauce to the floor.
I stood paralyzed, unable to run. I was trapped with nowhere to duck away to. I didn't want Stick to hurt Old Lady Imitari, and I didn't want Stick to hurt me, either. The truth was, he would hurt both of us no matter what I did. That was just the way Stick was. I'd seen him. I'd seen him show us who he was every day.
Then I realized Imitari hadn't moved. She was watching her TV and chuckling at the sitcom as if nothing had happened.
Stick glanced at me, confused. I almost felt sorry for the sociopath. His night was not going to plan.
Imitari chuckled at her TV again, and a crease formed in the middle of Stick's forehead, letting me know that he was beyond angry. He was calm, dangerous, and vicious. People had been left for dead when Stick got this way.
Stick raised his cane and flipped it so the handle jutted like a pickax. He was going to attack Imitari.
Somehow, I moved. I didn't do much, but when I slid forward and grabbed the back of Stick's shirt, the cane missed Imitari, and the sharp handle punctured the thick glass top of the counter just above a roll of Lotto scratchers.
Old lady Imitari slowly looked up into Stick's eyes and smiled. Her wide, gentle frown was replaced with a look of joy and something else, something primal, something hungry. Her pupils were blown, and I had the uneasy feeling that I was watching someone be served their absolute favorite meal.
Before Stick could pull his cane from the punctured glass, Imitari casually reached forward, grabbed the cane, and pulled the wirey man forward. Small, old, and wrinkled, Imitari stared into Stick's eyes and overpowered him.
Stick fell forward across the counter. He tried to push himself back, but Imitari's hand clamped down on his wrist like a vice.
Bones ground together as Imitari pulled Stick's hand to her mouth, and with a swift, subtle movement, she bit off the tips of Stick's pinky and ring finger like she was sampling a cookie.
I jumped back next to the cooler as a thin spray of blood arched toward me.
Stick screamed and thrashed, but Imitari's small form was static and immovable. Stick was a fly in a trap. No matter how much he struggled, punched, poked, or kicked, he could not break the old woman's hold. Then, slowly, she took another bite.
It was strangely fascinating watching the frail form of this old woman I had known for years take bite after bite out of Stick. This man, whom I thought of as a predator, a hunter, an enforcer, was crying and begging while an old woman, who looked like a wrinkled thumb in a floral top, quietly devoured him.
I was surprised by the lack of blood after the first spray. I'm sure it was Imitari's crushing grip that stanched the flow of blood. The flesh of Stick's arm looked white from the pressure.
Hand over hand, Imitari pulled Stick forward. Bones cracked as she gripped higher on Stick's arm, clamped down with her long leathery fingers, and fed the flesh and bone, one concise bite at a time, into her open smiling maw. It was rhythmical in its simplicity: chomp, crunch, chew, chew, swallow. Over and over, the pattern continued until the begging stopped.
Stick wasn't dead. He gave up. Not struggling, he laid over the glass counter like a rag doll. He watched me glassily as Imitari took bite after bite, and I knew he wasn't there anymore. Whatever made Stick Stick had either curled up and hidden in a dark corner of his mind or had been devoured with his arm.
The old woman seemed displeased that her meal had stopped struggling. She shook him, but he flopped, and his head lulled from side to side. Imitari frowned, let go of Stick's arm, and pushed down on the limp man's back. Blood gushed from the ragged stump, and Imitari lowered her mouth and drank from the wound like she was sipping from a garden hose.
Stick didn't move. He just grew pail, and eventually, his panicked, shallow breaths ended, and the blood stopped flowing.
Then Imitari stood. With a quick tug, she pulled Stick's body over the counter and let it flop to the floor at her feet. Her eyes closed. A contented smile bloomed on her face as the explosive sound of crunching and cracking bones echoed through the small shop.
The deafening sound of crunching stopped, and only the buzzing of the drinks cooler reverberated through the small space. Imitari opened her eyes and watched me, a broad smile still on her lips. At that moment, I realized I could hear the drinks cooler so well because I had crawled into it, wedged between the glass door and the shelves.
Imitari held me with her gaze as cords of pink flesh lowered from the ceiling and efficiently tidied up Stick's mess, lapping up blood and hot sauce, placing cans on shelves, and scooping up cups of ramen with whip-like tendrils. Then, the cords of flesh nudged me forward, and I stood before Old Lady Imitari.
The thing that I had always thought of as a stern old woman handed me Stick's cane. With the same benign smile I remembered from buying red hots from it as a ten-year-old, it waved me away with its flyswatter, and the cords of flesh pushed me out the door onto the sidewalk.

January 2nd. 2024.
It's been about a year since the incident happened. I've been in therapy for as long as I can remember after that horrible night. I got a prosthetic for my left leg, and was able to walk somewhat normally again shortly after. I haven't told anyone about that horrible night, not even my family. My friends, who were there at the start of all of this visited me every day while I was in the hospital, begging me to tell them what happened, but I lied, and told them I didn't remember anything. Little did they know, I not only crystal clearly remember what happend, I also knew what I was going to do as soon as I could walk normally again.
February 27th. 2024.
I could finally walk on my own again, and when I got released from the hospital, I immediately knew what I had to do. I rushed home and started planning. This time, I would plan it out, not just run in there and take my chance. I began planning the following day.
March 9th. 2024.
I've collected all my ideas, and decided that the hunt would be on March 15th. However, I knew I couldn't do this alone, seeing as what happend last time, so I decided to call my uncle, who is an ex-marine, and knows all the camoflauge techniques that a civilian does not. Lucky for my, he belives in all kinds of folklore, mainly native american ones, so he was down to help me. Hes the only person I told this story to, since I know I could trust him with my life. In the following days, he tought me all differnet kinds of techniques like camouflage in "plain sight" and the hand signals used in the marine corps. Only one thing remained, the weapons. Since the police confiscated all of my weapons after the last incident, I had nothing, but my uncle told me not to worry about it.
March 15th. 2024.
The day was here. The meetup was schedueld to 11pm, but I was already at the place where we said we'd meet up, even though it was 10 minutes earlier. When all of a sudden I heard that scream... That same blood curdling scream I heard way back. But I wasn't scared anymore. Shortly after my uncle shows up with full marine corps camouflage uniforms and plate carriers, along with two M4 Carbines loaded up with holographic sights, lasers, flashlights and all the above. He also brought an old winchester Model 1873, which he told me only to use if I'm certain that I'm about to shoot at the entity in question. He said because it was loaded with white ash tree rubbed bullets. He started saying something else too, but was cut off by that same horrible scream, so we quickly dressed up, and made our way into the woods.
March 15th. 2024. 11:10pm
We entered the forest with adrenalyn pumping in our bodies and quickly took position in an abandoned cabin a few hundred feet into the woods. we quickly shut the door behind us and began discussing the next hours.
11:30pm.
We were still discussing when we heard a knocking sound coming from the door. I shouted out "Who the hell is it?! What do you want?!" But it just kept knocking. My uncle knows morse code, and he translated that it said, "Your Blood" over and over again. Then it just stopped. Like the source of the noise just simply dissapeared. And after a few moments of eerie silence, a window broke in the room next to the on we were in, and something was running towards the door. My uncle instantly yelled, "Take cover!", so that's what I did. I ducked and heard his M4 go off on fully automatic. He popped off 20 rounds at the door and very likely hit something, since the anomaly let out a huge scream. My uncle grabbed me by my arm and pulled me up. Then we jumped out the window and took off running.
11:35pm.
We ran for about a mile when we deemed it safe to stop for a drink. When I sudenly noticed that the old Winchester my uncle gave me was missing, so I informed him immediately. He turned to me with a huge smile on his face. Then it hit me... I didn't have an uncle... The damn thing implanted itself in my memory.. A moment of sheer panic later it pulled out the gun and shot my prosthetic and I fell to the ground. I quickly reached for my M4 and let out a burst of fire towards it. I scored a hit to its thigh, and so it ran away.
12:00am.
I collected my thoughts, and somehow managed to get up. I realized I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Only one problem, I had no idea of where the way out was. So I just started walking in a random direction. I lost track of time after this, since my watch had been ruined. After what felt like forever, I saw a light in the distance. As I got closer to it, I realized it was a huge bonfire, surrounded by a ton of theese entities. They were just standing there, it was almost mesmerizing in a way, how they stood perfectly still around the fire, but I knew I had to focus. I realized that I had a flare gun in my pocket, so I pulled it out and shot it up. This caused all of them to look at me, then dissapear. The fire went out and the flare was the only source of light in the entire forest. Then I heard something running towards me from the back.
12:00am+
I turned and saw one of theese things in all it's "glory" sprinting towards me on all fours. I shot all my bullets at it, which somehow caused it to drop dead. As I went closer to examine it, I was disgusted by the smell of it, it was like rotten flesh. I looked at the carcass and saw a huge pentagram on its back. So I backed off and started praying. I may be crazy, but I heard a voice say to me, "Go 88 steps forward, then 6 left". So I did just that, and saw a white ash tree, and I instantly knew what to do. I grabbed 30 bullets and rubbed every single one of them on the tree. Then something snapped inside me, I yelled up "Come and get me!" at the top of my lungs. And right away, several creatures started rushing towards me. 5 shots, 5 dead entities. But then I saw IT... The thing that started all of this. It wanted me dead. Then suddenly the flare died out. I quickly turned on my laser and flashlight, and the final battle had begun.
About 12:30am.
The entity took the form of my so called "uncle", and quickly ran in a bush. But I wasn't ready to let it slip away again. So I shot about 10 rounds into the bush, and it ran out of it. I took my chance, and with my remaining bullets, I shot it. It dropped and screamed in agony. I went up to it, and realized it had dropped that old Winchester, so I picked it up, and put a bullet in it's skull. And with that it was all over. At least I thought.
March 16th. 2024.
After I got home, I dropped, and fell asleep. When I woke up I decided that the best thing to do was go to church, since those things were most likely demonic. As soon as I entered the church the priest saw me, and fainted. I had to call an abulance for him. I heard he died later that day. The same day, I found out my entire family was killed in a horrible car accident. And so I realzed I had been cursed for life. Anyone who was considered my loved one had died in the following weeks, only I had remained. So in the end, I got revenge for my friend, but was it worth it?

This is your weekly thread to drop your links or stories that might not be relevant enough to get their own thread. Good examples include:

• Taskmaster alumni appearing elsewhere (TV shows, tour dates, etc.)
• Selfies and pictures featuring alumni
• Sharing ideas about Taskmaster themed parties
• Random pics of things that remind you of Taskmaster (I'm looking at you, rubber duck.)

This is something new we're trying to give you a place to share these sorts of posts . A new post happens every Sunday at noon (UTC). Be sure to follow this post if you want to see updates!
Have fun!