Hellburger99 posted:

Does anyone have or even remember the story about the kid who wakes up in the middle of the night and the muppets are on TV, only the muppest have fangs and are trying to eat him?

It wasn't written by a goon, or at least not originally on here but I read it in junior high, sometime in '95 or '96. I'm just trying to find it and I remember it was reposted in a ghost story thread at least once in the mid-2000s.

quote:

UNKNOWN POSTER - MUPPETS


Long ago when I was about four or five, I stayed over at my grandparents' house for the night. My Mom stayed over with me, because Dad was out of town on business.

Granny and Granddad quite enjoyed their television programs, and had a set in each of the two bedrooms in the house, as well as in the living room. I was still stupid enough to believe TV's flickering, mind-sucking images were pretty neat, so I was in heaven.

Night came on softly, as it only can when you feel safety and warmth around you. With one of Granny's home-cooked meals in my stomach, I had begun to feel the need for slumber. So, we all piled in the monstrous king-sized bed in Granny and Granddad's master bedroom, and soon we were all snoring blissfully.

I woke up in the night and sat upright, looking around. Something had disturbed my slumber. Granddad was still snoring rhythmically, and Granny looked like she hadn't budged an inch, so I sat back and prepared to visit the realm of dream once more.

Then the television turned itself on.

Now, I'm only 22 years old [1994], but this was in the days when remote controls were the providence of the wealthy and debased. Granny and Grandad did not fit into any of those two categories.

To see a television turn itself on was an interesting thing. I sat up again to see what would come on.

At that time, the TV in my grandparents' bedroom was a black and white. I watched the white dot that had formed in the middle expand to full screen, but only the static of a dead channel appeared.

Then, images began to appear.

I couldn't really describe them. They were sort of shadowy things at first, but they seemed to be -- for lack of a better term -- "scoping me out." Slowly, an actual image began to appear.

Muppets! The Muppets were on! I was exalted, elated. I wanted to wake my grandparents up, but I then started to feel a bit uncomfortable about what was happening on the television.

Muppets did not usually have fangs as I recall. At least, not ones that looked so ... real and out of place in an otherwise standard Muppet-style mouth.

I realize this is sounding goofy. You were warned.

Well, uncertain about what to do, I decided to keep a close watch on the television.

The "Muppets" looked at me. It was common of course on Sesame Street and the Muppet Show for them to acknowledge the audience, so I wasn't alarmed so much by that.

I describe these things as Muppets because that's primarily what they looked like. Other than the rows and rows of unusual teeth, one looked vaguely Groveresque and the other sort of reminded me of Herry the Monster (don't know if he's even ON Sesame Street anymore). [Ed. note: Herry is still a supporting player on Sesame Street.]

The Groveresque Muppet leaned over and pointed at me, while whispering something to his companion. They looked at me in unison, whispering all the while in a strange, unusually guttural tongue. It sounded completely random, although it did somehow seem to follow the meter and pattern of a language.

I noticed when the Groveresque Muppet pointed, he had very long, distinct talons on his furry hands. This, too, was quite disturbing.

The Muppets began to dance, sing and cavort about in that strange language of theirs. It was sort of amusing, I recall. I began to feel a bit more at ease.

The Muppets motioned for me to come forward.

I shook my head.

The Muppets tried again.

I shook my head. I was beginning to feel frightened. If there ever was a way Muppets could look pissed, these guys were doing it. With all those rows of fangs, it wasn't pretty.

I should mention that all of this singing, dancing, cavorting horror that was going on seemed to in no way disturb my grandparents. This disturbed me as well, because these guys were LOUD.

I got out of bed and crept into the living room, being careful to avoid approaching the screen. The Muppet-things wore visages of absolute anger now, motioning violently for me to approach the screen. My attempts rouse my grandmother and grandfather were in vain; they would not stir.

I ran into the living room, crying. I collapsed in my Granddad's chair, buried my face into the fabric, and began to weep, certain doom had come for me.

I looked over at the television in the corner of the living room. It had already begun to turn itself on, the shadow-forms that had dissolved into the Henson-styled horrors already beginning to flicker across its surface.

I screamed, rooted to the spot. But as the scream left my lungs and two grinning, fanged faces burst into being on the television screen, faintly and then with increasing tempo I heard footsteps.

The things in the television looked worried, swirled into their shadow-forms and were gone.

The television winked out just as my Mother ran into the room.

After consoling me, we went to check on Granny and Granddad. They were both awake, and had heard me scream.

We all sat up for a while talking, and eventually the warmth and love returned to fill the chill in my soul.

I went to bed and nothing more happened that night. Or any other night I stayed with my grandparents.

A waking dream? Probably so. But one that still fills me with terror.

I was awake of course, Mom will still assert, when I was in the chair. So, I did move somehow from the bed to the chair.

Still, it gives one pause. What better way to snare a young boy than to show him something he loves, then pull him in unawares?

Whatever those two things were, I'm sure the Muppet-forms were not their natural shape. I'm sure the fangs and talons were part of it, though.

If they're still out there, I hope they haven't had much time to practice those forms. If they could get them just right ...

I still wonder what would have happened -- dream or not -- if I had put my then-small hands up to the screen there in my grandparents' bedroom.

Perhaps nothing.

And then again, perhaps it's better not to know.

Arthyarthyarthy posted:

The Dam Man

My dad was an engineer, and when I was 17 he took a job renovating a dam about 40 miles away from our house. At the beginning it was just a normal job, but he started coming home more and more...I would almost say frantic. You could tell there was something wrong at work, maybe a bad coworker or something. My parents relationship was strained as it was, and this stretched it to the limit. They started yelling at each other late at night, and one day at the dinner table the straw broke. Dad told what was bothering him.

The dam was haunted, he said. Mom and I stared at him. Me in interest, my Mom in...annoyance, waiting for him to crack a smile and say he was just joking. The smile never came, he just got up and went to his "office". Mom stared at her food a while then followed him, I hung around within earshot to see what was going on. The conversation started out with my Mom's raised voice, but gradually it became quiet, confidential.

Dad agreed to refuse the job, to work a few more days until they could find a replacement - no more. This is where my intelligence came into question: I asked if I could come with him to work, and see the "ghost". He agreed, but told me to bring a friend. I called Josh, and he was stoked, and by the next day we were riding in the cramped back seat of my Dad's pickup towards the dam. Josh and I checked out flashlights, nothing fancy, just those little penlights you get at gas stations. We were a far cry from professional ghost hunters.

When we arrived at the dam, both Josh and I were struck by the somber mood that abounded in just about everyone. You could have told us that we were in a morgue, and it would have been easily believed. We followed Dad down through the concrete labyrinth, past the bypass', past the generators, deep down into the access and maintenance tunnels below, where the construction was going on. Dad grabbed a 1mil candle power light and two radios from one of the carts, not really stopping as he walked.

It wasn't construction really, just patchwork to make sure the dam didn't explode under pressure, necessary little injections of concrete into compression cracks and that sort of thing. We went down some stairs that took an abrupt turn to the right, and were met with a 100 foot long unlit hallway, with another set of descending stairs at the far end, lit by a single naked light bulb.

"Alright," Dad started, "This is it. All you have to do is walk down to the other end of the hallway and back. Feel free to turn back and come here at any time, I'll be standing right here with the torch. Just yell at me and I'll light up the whole hallway. Take one of the radios with you just in case, noise has a way of...getting trapped down here." He said while gazing down the hallway. He was talking quietly, the sort of way you would if you were surrounded by sleeping creatures.

Josh and I lit our flashlights and started walking down the hallway. Almost immediately we began to feel...pressure close in around us. It seemed the darkness itself had weight to it, pushing down on our shoulders, sneaking into out throats and choking us. We both walked slowly, concentrating on that light at the end of the tunnel, on our little bouncing pen lights.

Dams are creepy places in general, and this one was no different. Minute shifts in the lake caused the drat to...moan in a way, but not in a way you could hear. More like you could feel it moan, somewhere deep in your stomach. Little drips would become gunshots when reflected the right way, ventilation shafts would seam to form whispered words, voices from far off managed to appear right behind you. I had experienced these things before, in other dams, but this one was different - completely different.

I suddenly snapped alert, Josh was whispering my name from somewhere. I became aware that we were laying down on the cold, moist concrete floor. The light at the end of the hallway had gone out. Our penlights did little to hold back the wet, seeping darkness that was constantly encroaching on us. I pulled the radio out of my pocket, whispering into it: "Dad...dad...turn on the light...".

No reply, just a that silent static that filled the air around us, Josh and I turned around and looked behind us, we could see Dad still sitting on the steps. I wanted to yell for him, but I couldn't. If I opened my mouth...the darkness would come in, pour in, drowning me. The radio crackled up in my hand, "Turn on the light...turn on the light...turn on the light..." whispered someone. It wasn't my voice.

It was a sick, wet, almost gurgling voice. Guttural and deep, it originated from the gut instead of the throat. Josh and I pointed our flashlights at the radio, and he curse as his light flickered and died. We were stuck, trapped in that hallway. We couldn't yell, we couldn't move, we couldn't use the radio. "Josh...we have to try to get back.". He nodded back, his face eerily lit by the pale blue penlight. I tried to ignore its brief flickering, as we both started to crawl back down the hallway, using the penlight to light the way in front of us. The darkness was complete, filling the edges of my eyes. Our whole world existed in that circle of dim light before of us, everything else was black. Then my hand touched something...

I jumped backwards and pointed the penlight where my hand had been...nothing. But I knew without a doubt what I felt - a foot. I had laid my hand down on the ankle of a human foot. It had been wet, slimy almost. The skin felt soft and bloated, ice cold. It was so vivid, I thought to myself. I had felt the callouses on the back of the heel, the wrinkles of skin...the tension of the dead muscle. I had surprised whatever I touched as much as it surprised me. Suddenly, Josh was yelling at me.

He was gasping and spinning around on all fours, his eyes wide with fear. "What the gently caress was that..." he started, "Something touched me, put its hands on my back." He turned around and showed me the back of his shirt, a grey T-Shirt that he wore in case it got dirty. Two defined hand prints were set in it, right behind his shoulders, showing easily against the rest of the shirt - whatever hands had touched him had soaking wet hands. His face set as he looked forward, I followed.

Up ahead, we could see Dad still relaxing on the stairs, with the light behind him, erasing all the details of his face. But there was someone else now...

It was wearing a poncho, the heavy wet gear that dam workers who have to do deep work wear. Brief reflections of light around the silhouette showed its emergency-yellow color. It was wearing a hat too, one of the rubber seal hats I had seen my Dad wear on so many occasions. Someone else had come down to talk to Dad? Then I felt it...look at me. From far away, even though Josh and I were in total darkness, I felt it look at me and knew - absolutely knew - it saw me. Then it started walking.

It was a hurried walk, with a heavy limp. A determined walk, the walk of a man who has something important to do, someone who is late, someone who wants...to kill an intruder. I was paralyzed, there on the floor, shaking from the cold water seeping in through my shirt off the floor, from fear of whatever it was that was walking at us. Closer, closer, closer. I pointed the flashlight at it - him.

He was maybe thirty feet away now, his walking had picked up pace. Little details shimmered in the penlight. His face was a sickly white, the eyes grey and swollen, only one pointing directly at us, the other lazily drifting off to the left somewhere. His cheeks had dark blue veins showing through, and his lips were torn and rotting in places. Shimmers of light reflected back to me as droplets of water caught the light - whoever the man was, he was soaking wet. Still closer...too close..

The radio! Dad was talking through the radio! "Are you boys OK back there? I'm turning on the light, cover your eyes." I couldn't see him any more, the man was close enough that he filled our view. His wet boots heavily slapping against the concrete, his wet, labored breathing seeming to slide across the walls until they reached my ears. It occurred to me that my flashlight had gone out, and at the same time the boot steps stopped. I could hear the breathing though...only feet above me. Wet rubber squeaked against itself, and I felt a wet, swollen hand slide down the side of my face, then violently grip my hair and yank my hair back. Then the world erupted in light - bright, unbroken light filled every corner of that drat hallway.

"Why are you idiots laying down? Whats wrong with Josh?" I heard my Dad yell, unseen behind the bobbing light, he was running towards us. I looked over, Josh was face first on the concrete. He had passed out. I started shaking him and he woke up, pushing me off him in fear at first. Dad reached us and helped me pick hip up. Then pointed the light down the hallway and dismissively shook his head. "Lets get out of here, I'm seeing things now. I thought I saw one of the other workers just go around the corner down there."

"Was he wearing wet gear?"

"Yeah, why? Are you OK?" He squinted his eyes, almost knowingly at me. He had a unique experience, I thought to myself, probably every day for the last two weeks. "Why is your hair wet?" Was the last thing I remembered him asking.

I find myself waking up late at night now, soaking with sweat, thinking about that tunnel. Sometimes I can feel that wet hand on my face, sometimes I feel the foot, other times I just see his silhouette at the end of the hallway, any hallway.

Afterwords:

Dad fronted an effort to quintuple the amount of wired and emergency lights in that dam, and the personnel were more than supportive. He also suggested to change the emergency gear to red, so that everyone wasn't jumping out of their socks every time they saw another worker.

Hazo posted:

Diddums posted:

There are two stories I remember details of but haven't been able to find since I first read them and don't know if they came from here.

1. Person's friend dies and they have a dream of meeting them walking down the road. They call his name, but when he turns around, his face is loose and mask-like and a weird voice answers instead.

quote:

Mark was always one of the weirder guys I’d known. He was never content to live what he considered a “mundane” life. He was an artist, an explorer, a scientist in some sort of field never imagined by man. I’ll always wonder what he would have done with his life had he lived past twenty-four. Surprisingly, the fault of his death was not placed on his shoulders, but on the shoulders of the rather inebriated gentleman who plowed him down one day on Main Street.

The funeral was the largest I’d ever been to. People who had only heard of him in vague descriptions and anecdotes were there, crying, laughing, talking about his life and how unfairly it had been ended. I had known Mark well and was not handling the situation in what one would think to be a levelheaded manner. I almost didn’t even show up. Closed-casket. He wouldn’t have wanted this.

It’s funny. I always assumed I’d never see his face again, saving old photographs and home videos.

I was driving on a long stretch of road that ran between our town and a larger, neighboring one. One side was covered in forest, the other pure farmland. I’ve always been uncomfortable driving on roads like that. They’re a little too isolated for my liking, and while I wouldn’t call this particular road’s condition “bad”, the possibility of wrecking in such a place was absolutely nerve-wracking to someone as already anxious about driving as me. It also didn’t help that it was nighttime.

The radio was fading in and out, which, despite sounding spooky to more of you urban types, is actually pretty common out in the countryside. Still, I’d prefer something to listen to, and the car I was using at the time didn’t have a CD player. I eventually turned the radio off, quickly regretting the action and growing uncomfortable in the silence that followed. It was then that I spotted the pedestrian walking about twenty, maybe thirty feet, up ahead.

Wondering why anyone would be walking such a lonely and creepy road at night, I merely glimpsed in his direction. We managed to make eye contact for a brief moment, and I almost drove off the road. It was Mark. Same hair (facial included), same strange little smirk, some posture. Mark had always been a fairly harmless guy, but I must’ve went double the speed limit for about the next mile.

Eventually I convinced myself it was just some random pedestrian who happened to look like Mark. Still, every now and then when I was out in the more rural areas of town, I’d catch glimpses of what looked like the same guy. He was always just walking with a Mark-esque smirk on his face. One very memorable occasion happened to me while working on my uncle’s farm to earn some extra cash during the summer. Now, there was quite a bit of distance between us, but I watched the Mark Doppelganger (or at least, that’s who it looked like) walk the road by my uncle’s farm. He only looked at me once, and though I was too far away to tell, I just knew he had that horrible smirk on his face.

I became very paranoid and avoided that part of town as much as possible. Sometimes, while in that area where you’re not quite awake and not quite asleep, I could’ve sworn I heard Mark calling my name. I was on the verge of a breakdown. Things were only worsened when I had to take part in an activity that required me to drive down the same road I had first seen Mark Doppelganger. I came up with every excuse possible to get out of it, but there was no hearing it. If I had had a full bladder, I probably would’ve pissed myself at the very mention of having to go back there.

By this time I finally had a CD player in my car and was listening to some Doobie Brothers. I remember the song that was playing when my car broke down - “Jesus is Just Alright”. Oh, yeah, my car broke down. I actually whimpered when it made that last shudder as I pulled over to the side of the road. I was still somewhat young and stupid, and this was my first breakdown, so my first decision was to call my mom. Fortunately, she was intelligent enough to call people who could actually help me.

I laid in the car for a few minutes, and my eyes got that feeling where it seems like they weigh at least twenty pounds each. I actually fell asleep. I awoke maybe three minutes later and noticed a figure walking out in front of my car. It was Mark Doppelganger. I had been completely vulnerable, yet he had done nothing to me. I finally gathered up all the nerve in me and got all of the car.

“Mark?!”

The figure stopped in its tracks. Turning around, it slowly walked back towards me. We were soon only about fifteen feet apart. As my eyes squinted to get a good look at his face, it took on what some call the “Uncanny Valley” effect. It was Mark’s face alright, but there were a few things I hadn’t noticed from the brief glances I’d gotten of it prior. First off, the face sagged grotesquely in the front. Not wrinkles or anything like that; it was more like a poorly-fitting mask. Behind the “eyeholes” was only pure darkness. What I had thought was a smirk was actually the mouth frozen in a way almost reminiscent of a stroke victim. This was all horrible enough, so just imagine when the thing, lips moving slowly and just a bit out of sync, began to speak.

“You idiot, Mark’s dead.”

I grew dizzy, and I guess I must‘ve fainted. I was woken by a strange guy named Ed who smelled of corn chips. I tried to explain what had happened to me, but he seemed a little too spaced out to care. Not long after our “conversation”, I decided it’d be best not to tell anyone. I was just too worried about what people would think of my mental health. I have never gone back down that road again, and on the few occasions I‘ve been through the countryside, I haven‘t spotted him again. I still have no clue what the hell that thing was, but I can tell you this: it sure as hell wasn’t Mark.

give me thread posted:

I actually have Humper Monkey's stories saved in a word doc from back when he posted them. I just copy/pasted them from the thread and adjusted formatting, saving them for a friend in the Australian military at the time. I emailed them to him (this was 2007!), and just checked my history now - it turns out google had saved the email attachment for me

Anybody want? I can put them up in pastebin or somewhere else - suggestions welcome.

I don't know if this breaches some copyright or whatever, but I mean they are ripped straight out of SA so.... perhaps I shouldn't? I dunno!

RFC2324 posted:

Given they were removed from SA because he published them, its very likely gonna walk in skme copyright toes.

https://www.amazon.com/Humper-Monkey-John-McCarthy/dp/0557708834

Tetramin posted:

Hello, I would like to read some more goon ghost stories and I saved the thread from P/C. I’ll try to find some of the old goon threads

mackensie posted:

What was the story about the army barracks in Germany? Think there was a fire involved? That was wild.

quote:

Wife Doppleganger
Let me see if I cant dig up something interesting. These threads combined with a bit of Humper Monkey really
drew me to this site to begin with so I might as well contribute right?
Weird poo poo happens to me frequently enough as to seem pretty mundane and boring, only very rarely does
something happen that really gets me, and the most recent something of that caliber happened just a few
months ago.
Little bit of background for ya, my wife Ash and I have been married for four or five years and live in a little two
story town house. Pretty normal place, living room downstairs with the kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs. We
have recently got rid of a troublesome roommate so having the place all to ourselves has been really nice. She
works at a bakery while I'm prepping for school and things are goin' pretty drat fine for us.
The day it happened was completely routine. She gets up and goes to work, I putter about doing bored guy stuff.
She comes home, I make dinner, see to it I make her laugh (My sworn duty as a husband) and talk about the
regular bullshit married people talk about. We go to bed and as I'm dozing off she plays her gameboy until she
zonks.
I pop awake at like three in the morning for some reason. It was one of those nice fresh "Bam your awake now
motherfucker!" awakenings with zero sleep fallout, I love those. I had to take a leak and figured that what woke
me up. Go to the upstairs bathroom and do my thing, and figure since I'm awake I might as well brew some
coffee or get some breakfast ready for Ash. So I head downstairs, and immediatly notice a few things that are
off.
The living room is lit and the TV is on to some ridiculous infomercial, might have been the "Is Colon Cleansing
Hype?" one. I think it was because I distinctly remember the guy talking being so strange looking, fake tan and I
swear he was wearing make up. I digress, but that guy really is weird looking. Anyways, TV is on and I notice Ash
sitting on the sofa across from it. I stop at the bottom of the stairs and look at her. She's sitting upright, hands on
her lap, just watching the commercial. "Hey, I didn't know you were up, good morning." I sez. She's still watching
the commercial, has her everpresent smile on and says back, "Yes." I start to head to the kitchen when she turns
her eyes to me without moving her head and asks, "Would you please hand me the remote?" I stop, turn and
look at the coffee table thats between her and the couch, and the remote is sitting right there. "Dude, its right
there." I say pointing, its seriously within reaching distance of where she is sitting. She's looking right at me, still
not moving her head and she has some of the clearest blue eyes of anyone I've ever met. "Yes" she sez.
I didn't think any more of it really, yeah she could have obviously reached out and took the remote off the table,
but maybe she was meditating or practicing ninja stillness skills or whatever. We are irregular people on
occasion.
So I walk over to pick up the remote and hand it to her and about three steps in I get this feeling. I'm almost
within arms reach of both her and the remote and every hair on my body just goes apeshit. Goosebumps from
my cheeks down my back. My heart rate goes from calm and normal to "Sonic the Hedghog is Drowning Music"
without any warning. It hit me so hard I felt faint. My fingertips are quivering, if I hadn't taken a piss moments
before I would have right then. Some of you have described this feeling better than I can, and you'll know it well
enough. My body is saying, NO. It's like a biological prey reaction, its how I imagine deer feel right before they
bolt. I'm not exactly paralyzed but near enough to it. She still hasn't moved, just watching me with those calm,
clear and safe eyes.
The guy on the TV is still talking about how science proves flushing your rear end with water makes you a happier
person, gets rid of the toxins.
I'm getting tunnel vision, and little sparkles at the edge of my vision, the kind you get when you stand at
attention with your knees locked like a recruit. I'm going to pass out, I am completely familiar with this
progression of sensations. The twinkling, the sparkly chills and then bonk. I manage to break eye contact with
her and stare at the remote and back away slowly. It's weird how I keep bringing up the anal hygienist on the
commercial, but his weirdly androgynous voice was I think actually giving me something to focus on other than
what was happening, as absurd as it may sound.
I manage to back up to the stairs and put a foot on the first step, the oh poo poo feeling is still there, but the
twinklings are gone so I don't feel like I'm going to pass out anymore, but I feel...argh, like if I take my eyes off
that remote I am hosed. The second I look away, when she isn't in my peripherial vision anymore its done. I
can't blink, I don't dare shut my eyes, and even though I'm breathing steadily enough my heart is just going
nucking futz. I can hear it, I'm loving positive so can she.
Felt like I was on that first step for hours. Couldn't have been too long in hindsight, but right then it was forever.
Finally though, I took a dose of gently caress it and as calmly as I could turned and went up the stairs. I turned my eyes
away and focused up at the top of the steps. I refused to look to my sides, I refused to look into the living room. I
head up the stairs, and I can just feel slow movement behind me. I know if I book it I'm hosed, like that would
be uncorking the bottle of very bad poo poo under pressure thats behind me, so I don't, but oh lord do I want to.
I make it to the top of the stairs and turn to go into my bedroom, I notice the lights are off downstairs, so is the
tv. I can feel her at the foot of the stairs looking up at me but oh man I do not have the balls to look back. I step
into my room, shut the door behind me and make my way back to my bed in the dark. I'm feeling around, my
heart is still fit to burst. I feel a sleeping cat, Sam my erstwhile buddy and the only cat I havn't ever wanted to
strangle despite him being a complete rear end in a top hat at all times. I feel around Sam, find the edges of the blankets and
then I feel my wife's foot. She's warm and sleeping like a pile of rocks. She isn't making any noise but I can feel
her rythmic breathing. I slip into bed, shut my eyes and throw the blankets over my head like a loving six year
old.
I still don't know if I actually managed to go to sleep after that, I think I just stayed up until she woke up to the
alarm at six in the morning. I do know that at sometime around noon that next day I passed out so hard, it was
like I hadn't slept in days

Deified Data posted:

I've always really been unsettled by this one

Deified Data posted:

I've always really been unsettled by this one

Zippy the Bummer posted:

Almost all goon ghost stories should still be up on redacted

RFC2324 posted:

Main reason I don't link this is that, last I checked, it still has Humper Monkeys stuff and we shouldn't steal from fellow goons

HugeGrossBurrito posted:

it was posted on the forums, someone compiled them I'm not worried about it

Zippy the Bummer posted:

Almost all goon ghost stories should still be up on nothotbutspicy.com/para/

http://nothotbutspicy.com/para/

RFC2324 posted:

It was purged from the forums when he published and has been a thing that has been avoided since.

RFC2324 posted:

Its also not fair to take a fellow goons livelyhood away by pirating his work. It was posted here first, but again, it was purged for a reason.

HugeGrossBurrito posted:

cool man if he asks us to remove the link I would be happy to, but considering that site has been up for years I sincerely doubt he gives a poo poo.

edit- Its easily found on multiple websites in full

here is the link if you'd like to buy it
https://www.amazon.com/Humper-Monkey-John-McCarthy/dp/0557708834

bought one why not, now the thread has made him money lol

Hazo posted:

Dunno about this one but it's probably in the skin-walker thread

quote:

quote:

About 18 years ago, my buddy Kyle and I went canoeing down in south Georgia during the summer. The first part of the trip took us down the Satilla, a beautiful black water river with white sandy beaches. That part of the vacation was uneventful. The trip through the Okefenokee Swamp was not, however.

Even at the age of 17 we were fairly experienced campers. Every weekend we would hike or float down a river. We never left without first plotting a detailed map and we had the best equipment a couple of teenagers could afford. We always planned for the unexpected and made sure to take an extra couple of days worth of supplies. The trip into the swamp was only going to be a short day trip, leaving early in the morning and returning before dusk. We were totally unprepared for what happened.

We set off into the swamp early Saturday morning, leisurely paddling along the well marked canoe trail. We took in the sights of the gorgeous landscape, the beautiful plants and of course we marveled at the alligators. The two of us were loving every minute of our trek. Nearing midday, we became hungry so we paddled away from the trail a short distance, tied up to a tree, and made lunch.

After eating our ramen noodles and jerky we relaxed in the canoe, and soon both of us fell asleep. We woke up a couple of hours later and started paddling back to the main path. We thought so, anyway.

It didn't take us long to realize that we were lost. Neither of us felt any panic or distress. We had been in worse situtations and never failed to get through them. We were both confident we would soon find our way out of the maze in which we found ourselves.

The hours passed and the sun was getting lower in the sky. Still far from panicking, we were growing a bit anxious. We were just chalking it up to another 'Scott and Kyle Adventure'.

The sky continued to darken. At this point, we realized that we were going to have to spend the night in the swamp. Again, it was nothing we were really all that concerned about. We knew that the park rangers would be out looking for us the next day since our return time had come and gone. Kyle's family was staying in a nearby lodge, and even though we knew they naturally worried about us, we also knew that they were confident in our abilities and outdoor skills.

In the Okefenokee, camping is allowed only on platforms built above the water. That way the gators can't get ya. Obviously, we didn't have the luxury of a platform, so we tied up to another tree and just made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the boat.

We passed the time by eating, fishing, and watching the gators. Soon the sun had completely decended and it was night. It was eerily beautiful, and it seemed that Mother Nature had cranked up the volume to 11. The birds, frogs, insects and other swamp creatures became louder and louder. We talked about the sort of things that teenage boys talk about. We laughed and just enjoyed the moments.

THUMP. Something hit the bottom of our boat. THUMP THUMP. Again, something hit our boat. Kyle raised our small lantern and we saw what had to have been the largest alligator in the whole freaking swamp swim past. If it was less than 15 feet long I would be surprised. It turned around and came straight at us, hitting the boat again. Kyle grabbed his oar and smacked the water, hoping to scare the drat thing away. The gator seemed to grow even more brazen and aggressive and once again made a pass at our boat, really hitting it hard and rocking it a good bit. I felt like I was in an alligator version of 'Jaws'. We needed a bigger boat, indeed! I too grabbed an oar and we both began beating the hell out of the water. The gator went under us, REALLY knocked the poo poo out of the boat, and swam away. We thought it had left for good, but it returned after about 5 minutes. We repeated this entire cycle about 4 times. We were really getting scared that this fucker wanted to kill us. It swam away again, and we waited for it to make another strike.

Then everything went silent. Instantly. And by silent, I mean there was NOTHING making a sound. Not a loving peep. Even the mosquitos that had been pestering us by buzzing around our faces had suddenly disappeared. We both looked at each other; our puzzled faces were illuminated by the dim lantern. Neither of us wanted to say anything to break the silence. I don't really think either of us could have said anything, anyway.

SPLASH. SPLISH SPLASH. The sound was off to our right, probably 20-30 yards away. That drat gator again, I thought. Thankfully the eerie silence was giving way to some sort of activity. Nope, nothing else made a sound. SPLAAASH. This one sounded heavier; more violent. I told myself it was still just the gator.

Kyle whispered. "Why is it so quiet?"
I didn't have an answer. Surely, no animal in the swamp was so threatening that even the drat crickets and skeeters shut up. Not even our gator menace had quieted the sounds of the Okefenokee.

Of course, as in all movie thrillers, the lantern went out and we couldn't reignite it. And of course, as in all situations like this, the clouds parted and the moon revealed itself.

And of course, the two teenage boys who up to this point were relatively unrattled nearly pissed themselves.

SPLASH! Something darted through the trees to our right. It was not an animal. Well, if it was an animal it was walking on its hind legs. A bear maybe?

"Christ. What in the gently caress was that?!" I said, but not too loudly. Didn't want it to hear me.

"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS". Something made a sound like air escaping from a tire. The same figure we saw earlier moved through the trees again.

CRACK! THUMP. CRAAACK! The cracks were sharp and violent. The thump was dull and had a hollow tone to it. Still no other sounds in the whole freaking area.

"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS". There it was again, only a little louder.


Several minutes passed with nothing happening. Our little part of the world was still deathly silent.


PLOP.

Something landed in the water right next to our canoe. PLOP. PLOP PLOP PLOP. It became apparent that the thing was throwing pebbles or something at us.
Okay, now this is getting loving ridiculous, I thought. Bears don't loving throw things. Both Kyle and I simultaneously drew our hunting knives from their sheaths, as if that was going to do anything whatsoever.

What happened next was something I will never forget. It is something that both of us wish we had dreamed. It is something that we don't even speak about when we see each other almost 20 years later. Jesus, I'm getting goosebumps and quite nervous even typing this.

CLINK. Something landed in our canoe. CLINK CLINK. Two more somethings landed in our canoe. CLINK CLINK CLINK. Ok, enough with loving THROWING poo poo INTO OUR CANOE!

It was then we realized that whatever the objects were had come from above, NOT from either side. We looked at each other, our faces so white they rivaled the moon. At the same time, our gazes drew upward.

There it was. Sitting in the tree. OUR TREE. The tree to which we were tied. You know that goat in Jurassic Park that was tied up for the T-Rex to eat? Yeah, we were that goat.

I swear to christ that this thing must have been a child of the moon. The moon seemed to cast down its light on our friend in particular, illuminating it much more clearly than anything else in the area. It was as if the moon wanted us to see this thing in all its glory.

It was humanoid- it had the body of a man with the head of the skull of some kind of animal. It looked kind of like a wolf or coyote or something similar. The eyes glowed yellow, and there was fur covering the shoulders and upper body. This thing was built like a tank, too. Its muscles rippled under its pale skin. It breathed deeply and slowly. In one hand it held some sort of staff that was maybe 3 feet long with a huge knot at one end. Around its neck there was a pouch made from leather.

Oh, one thing I should mention is that this tree had no branches on the lower half of the tree where the creature was. It was grasping the tree with one arm, the staff clutched tightly in that hand. Its feet seemed to be dug into the tree trunk.
With its free hand, he pointed at us. Keep in mind that Kyle and I were in opposite ends of the boat, but each of us swore that it was looking straight into the eyes of each of us. Strangely, our sense of fear went away once it gazed into us. A sense of calm and 'This is gonna be ok' came over us. Slowly, it withdrew its outstretched hand, opened the pouch around its neck, reached two long fingers inside and took something out. It slowly extended its arm again, and dropped the objects into our boat.

"GWAHHHHHHHHHHHHH SSSSSSSSSSSSSKKKKKKKKKKKKKHHHHHH" is the best approximation of the sound it made. It pointed at us again, then pointed off into the distance, to our right.

It leapt from the tree, landed with a very quiet splash, and darted off. The clouds gathered around the moon, and all the swamp's inhabitants began making their music once again.

Of course, we didn't sleep a wink. We sat in silence for the rest of the night, too awed and scared to speak.

The direction it pointed to turned out to be the way back to the trail.

The objects in our boat? Alligator teeth. Freshly dug out from a recently dead gator.

It was clear that this thing had been watching over us.

Once we got back to the canoe center, we told the story of being lost and the gator to the park rangers and Kyle's family. We left the part about our friend out. After we all settled down a bit, we talked to the rangers about the history of the swamp, hoping to gain some insight into what had happened. They mentioned nothing about ghosts, and scoffed at us when we brought it up. They did say that many indian burial mounds have been found, though... some 4000 years old.

Anyway, Kyle and I talked it about once and only once after it happened. It was so amazing, unbelievable, and awe inspiring that we have no need to discuss it I guess. As for telling the story, no one would believe us anyway.

isaboo posted:

This is my story. I have the illustration somewhere...

e: Found it! I'm thinking about adding this story to my book that I'll hopefully have out after New Year's (my Nazi Punching story in GBS among others)



A goon made this for me, but I have no idea who it was. If you're still around and see this, let me know!

Tetramin posted:

Oh that’s awesome. I didn’t think the savior swamp alien