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Feed
(A fic of Sam's time being trapped inside the egg, I got carried away and made this quite gross sorry) TW: Self-Cannibalism, Corruption, Partial Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Isolation, Sensory Deprivation Sam is aware of every cell in his body as the mushy red substance swirls around outside the small crack in his obsidian cage. His body withers and recoils in an unsympathetic system. He can’t let himself get corrupted. Sam shifts awkwardly and weakly reaches one of his green arms towards the crack. He can feel his muscles burn. When did he get so weak? Sweat coats skin as he forces his hand to grab onto the crack and tug. He has to get out. This egg is insane. It’s destroying the land covering it in thick mucus-like vines. The almost thick blood pulsing down the strands as it twists around anything it can wrap its tendrils around. Sam tugs again harder despite knowing it’s a hopeless task. He has to remind himself why the crimson is wrong. It’s brainwashed his friends! Badboyhalo never would have trapped him in here otherwise! They openly admitted to being brainwashed as they spread the spores of the crimson about ignoring any valid points he brings up. A hiss escapes Sam as he forces himself to pull harder at the crack begging it to grow any larger. According to Bad the crimson requires ‘’nourishment’’, Sam doesn’t know what that means. It isn’t normal for Bad to be offering rotting flesh as if it were a religious practice to the source of all the blood vines, the egg. Bad has even started discussing feeding entire people to the egg. Sam forces his quivering legs up so he’s standing in his small cage and angles himself to put more pressure on the crack. Nothing happens. At least Tommy and Tubbo aren’t in here. There’s no way they would be able to keep going like he is. And if they become corrupted it’ll severely affect the production of the hotel. Sam is trying to create an economy! A city! A place where he can thrive, and most importantly a place where he can get money. That’s why it’s good Tommy’s not here. Nothing to do with Dream’s taunts that echo across the prison floors. Nothing to do with the frightened screams that come from Tommy when he’s in any tight space. Nothing to do with the expression on Tubbo’s face when the boy came running down the path crying for ‘’Sam Nook’’ when Tommy was taken by Bad. Nothing to do with the fire that burned inside him when Puffy explained Ant and Bad’s plans to feed Tommy to the egg. Sam just needs his business plan to run smoothly and stay on track. That’s why. Sam collapses, his limbs falling down around him as his energy gives out. Sitting in a box shouldn’t be this exhausting. He’ll get out and stop whatever Bad’s malicious plans are and in the meantime, Puffy will protect Tommy and Tubbo. Tears sting Sam’s eyes, he can’t stay in here any longer. He can barely raise his hands and his chest feels empty. Sam tries to rub his hands across the cool obsidian to ground himself but the surface is too smooth and somehow the crimson keeps the obsidian vaguely warm, not hot enough to burn just enough for the temperature to stay neutral. Sam grimaces, how long has he been in here? Everything is so dark. The black obsidian surrounds him and the crack only provides him with a splash of dark red across his fuzzed vision. Is nighttime yet? Has it gotten darker? He can’t tell since he’s underground and it takes too much energy to look up to the small hole above him. He can’t even hear the sound of the birds in the morning or the chirps of crickets in the evening. It has to have been at least an hour, right? Sam tightens his hands until his fingers dig into his palms, the sense runs up his spine and throughout his whole body. Sam doubles over from the intensity of it. A laugh bubbles in his throat and for a moment Sam is frozen in fear worried he was about to start giggling hysterically, but then he remembers he doesn’t have enough energy anyway. Nothing happens, so Sam stops clenching his fists and is plunged back into emptiness. They’ll have to feed him eventually right? They want him to bond with the egg, they want him to be infected by the crimson. They aren’t feeding him to it, so they have to keep him alive, right? Bad will come soon and give him at least some water. Sam’s sure of it. Unless this is part of their plan? Are they watching him right now? Waiting for him to beg to scratch at the walls pleading with them to let him out, starve him until he is forced to let the egg in? Let it in where? Into his head? It’s in him Sam can feel it. He won’t let it in. They are watching him. Sam is convinced they are. He can hear them sometimes. But he also can’t. Was he sure it was Bad that kept telling him about ‘’desires’’? Was he sure it was the padded footsteps off Ant that seemed to bleed into his brain? How long does it take for the crimson to corrupt you? When will they let him out? Sam’s throat has started to throb. He wants to tell someone he needs a glass of water but he can’t find it in himself to make his mouth move. He’s so tired. He can’t feel his body but he knows his arms are wrapped around his own throat as if he could claw the soreness out of it. Does he even want it to stop? At least the pain is something. Better than nothing. Right? A red vine has slithered in through the crack in the obsidian. Sam wonders if he can drink it. He can’t let himself become corrupted. He has to stop it. He has to think of Fran, his dog patiently waiting for him to come home. Who will protect Fran if he’s gone? Money isn’t worth this torment, his life isn’t worth this torment but Fran is. He has to keep going for Fran. The air smells of cinnamon. It didn’t smell like this before. They’ll let him out soon. He’ll lie to them, tell him he can hear the egg. The scent in the air becomes sour as Sam remembers his original plan of holding out on stubbornness to prove a point. He just wants out, everything inside him is attacking him, tearing him in his insides. Someone is speaking in gibberish that he somehow understands. ‘’It’s been too long...no one else knows where Fran is. Fran is going to starve if you don’t obey. I can give you what you desire.’’ Sam tries to slam his head into the obsidian but he can’t raise it from the wall of his cage. He tries to move his hands but they won’t follow his commands. He needs the voice too quiet. He needs it to stop. He needs it to stop! Sam sinks his teeth into the muscle of his right arm as tears flow down his face. The mossy green flesh tears up around his mouth. The frays of skin torn away are tipped with blood as he buries his mouth into his arm. Please stop. Make it stop. The emptiness inside him sits in his stomach grabbing at his body fat as he strains to keep his composer. He doesn’t want to eat this. He can’t even feel the pain as he shoves a slab of his own unhealthy flesh through his teeth. He has to fill the empty. He can’t be empty. He can’t feel his own hands. He can’t move his body. The smell is gone from the air. The crack in his cage is overgrown with an oozing red, it’s so dark. His mouth is numb but it starts to tingle as he pulls another long string of his skin off his arm. Eventually, Sam could feel his flesh is slightly tougher than what he’s used to. It’s a little stringy, but it’s not too tough or stringy to be agreeably edible. The taste is sweet as it covers his tongue. He needs to fix the emptiness. But he wants to stop. Lights that aren’t real sparkle in Sam’s vision as the salty tears pour down the open wound in his arm. Feed. Feed. Feed. Feed. The smile. Feed. Feed. Feed. Feed. The smile on Tommy’s face. Feed. The smile on Tommy’s face as Sam opened and closed the raccoon puppet. Sam clicked the small recorder behind his back as a mess of cute noises spilled out from it and Tommy’s eyes lit up. The kid started complaining about the task Sam had made the puppet give him but Tommy’s eyes never lost their light. Sometimes Sam wasn’t sure if Tommy could tell he was talking to a puppet. At first, it was clear he did but over time Tommy started referring to ‘’Sam Nook’’ as a completely separate person to Sam. And after the unremorseful confessions Dream snickers aloud for the warden’s ears, Sam was worried that the kid’s mind was so desperate for a childhood it created the raccoon puppet into someone real. Sam blinks. Can he blink? Where is he? He’s so exhausted. He should just sleep. He should just let it in. It wants to feed. He is going to feed. Feed. He’s fighting for something? Right...Tommy. ‘’I can give you what you desire.’’ It wants to feed. Sam should let it feed. It’s so loud. ‘’What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him Puffy?’’ ‘’I...I don’t even know how he’s alive.’’ Sam notices his mouth is moving. Is he talking? What’s happening? Why is he so hungry? ‘’He’s been down there for like fourteen hours!’’ Sam snaps back to reality, he doesn’t know what’s happening but he is overcome with an urgency to check on Fran. Like a lingering memory, he can’t quite place. Sam expects his heart to be pumping out of his chest, but instead, he realizes his pulse is slow. ‘’Oh my god...How would he have slept in a box? Perhaps if he laid down vertically...like a flamingo.’’ Sam looks down at his arm and sees the blood. Ah right, feed. ‘’Bad and Ant tried to kill me twice!’’ A voice rants. Sam is tired...he wants to sleep, he wants to see Fran. He wants... ‘’Oh my god, he’s right on top of the egg!’’ So many voices the noise surrounds Sam shocking his system and he slumps against the dark walls of his...his...he doesn’t know. ‘’Oh...okay we need to break him out.’’ Is that? No, he recognizes the voice that continues to chatter around him. ‘’P-Puffy?’’ Sam questions his voice cracking with the dryness of his throat. ‘’No no! Sam-we’re coming Sam!’’ Puffy calls back, Sam thinks he’s relieved, or maybe he’s just tired. A loud sound cuts through Puffy’s hushed reassurances, ‘’SAMMIE! SAM IT’S ME YOUR BEST FRIEND!’’ Tommy. The noise causes a shiver to run down Sam’s spine and it takes him a second to realize that cold rain was running down his face from the hole above him. His body shivers again and Sam restrains a whine from the energy it uses. He blinks open his eyes to see that his blanked cage is covered in hunks of his skin that the crimson had been letting fall off him. Sam lets his eyes travel higher to see the vines covering the crack in his prison being torn off until a young face stares back at him. Right...Tommy’s smile. He’s isn’t done yet. ‘’Hi, Tommy…’’
I've not seen any reviews for these so I thought I'd try some. Plus I feel like I already reviewed half of them in replies to other peoples posts, so might as well put them together. Beastly(For the Beast hoping to be saved by Beauty: Ancient castle stones, the brooding airs of a dark forest, a threat of winter; a fougere fit for a prince, the musk and leather of a beast; a library filled with rare books; and a single red rose) I think I wanted too much from this, and forgot my skin’s tendency to amp leather above everything else. From the bottle, all sorts of good wild things. On the skin, forest with a hint of something foody, and then warm leather, lots of leather that is actually warm, like a leather coat left in the sun. hat’s one of the few things I don’t like so much about this house, they can be heavy handed with the ‘tobacco’ family of scents (leather, maple sugar, gingerbread, even smoke sometimes) and it gives me a sore throat. Big Bad Wolf(For the cunning acquaintance of Red Riding Hood: Brown wolf musk in white cotton; a basket of creamy vanilla cakes; a posy of tiny forest flowers; a cheerful little fire in the hearth; and a lascivious grin of red musk.) In the bottle it was a nice tangy syrup, with a good woodsy musk, a slightly soapy floral, and a hint of cake, which went together weirdly well and I liked all of it. But when I wore it my skin amped the wrong thing (either the red musk, or the ‘white cotton’ note reading like hot laundry?) either way my skin turned it into root beer and/or something medicinal. Red musk and ‘clean laundry’ (hot metallic aldehydes?) are notes I wear badly. Though if I just spray this on my clothes it stays nice. Get Off My Bridge(For the peaceful troll who’s tired of goats and idiots: Green and misty trees, piles of moss; damp earth, tender ferns, fresh herbs and cucumber; and under weathered stone: dark licorice and clove.) I was nervous about this because I hate liquorice, but it’s barely detectable and/or well blended in. This scent is surprisingly wholesome and fresh, like a garden, with newly dug earth and plants and leaves and damp cool air. You can almost smell the sweetness of mist. Then the musk comes in, which is like the sexy gardener coming over to help (bow chikka wow wow). I thought it might smell like a troll, but it’s more like the ideal gardener: very clean and a little bit dirty. ;) Good With Rats(For those who follow the Pied Piper: A temptation of creamy vanilla, amber, and sweet maple sugar; soft brown fur musk; village woodsmoke; dark stone, burning agar wood; and glowing spice embers) As I said in a review for this elsewhere, it smells like being down wind from an actual old village, just after the sun has set, and people are lighting their fires (reminds me of a holiday in Yorkshire). But there’s also something sweet and tangy about this, and sort of nicely sad? There’s an earthy incense depth to it too, maybe the agar wood. I had an oddly emotional reaction to this scent, it felt melancholy, creepy, romantic, all of the above? I can’t decide, but I def want to do it again.. This is the sort of scent I’d like for when I’m reading a fantasy novel. Mother of Apples(For Snow White’s queenly stepmother: The woods, earth, and mosses of a northern forest; winter air, snow accord; one magical red apple; and a heart-shaped box) Surprisingly masculine for something with ‘mother’ in the title. It does smell wintry and strict, cold (at first) but with a warmer woodsy heart. The apple is restrained here. The longer I wore it the more I liked it. Nibble, Nibble, Little Mouse(Who is nibbling at my house? For the innocent witch in her delicious cottage: A perfect cottage of gingerbread, chocolate dipped marshmallows and vanilla cream in a picturesque forest clearing. Incense-laden smoke trickles from the chimney) I got a sample of this just for the sake of completism, I was sure I’d hate it because CP ginger notes have tried to kill me in the past, but this was really nice. A sort of gingerbread latte with a hint of damp woodsmoke and incense. Really comforting yet quite atmospheric. No More Wishes(For the all-powerful jinn released from Aladdin’s lamp: Lush coconut and musky ambrette seed, warmed by chypre, copal and sweet tobacco; an offering of golden honey, figs and plums before a brazier of champaca and flames of ginger; a rising sinuous thrill of black musk) Okay this started a lot fruitier than I expected. I got the fig and the plum first together (reminded me of Japanese sweets made from dried plums), then fresh incense on one side and honey on the other. After a while it all dries down to a warm, dark gingery musky oriental. Every sniff of this seemed different from the last one. No Princesses Here(We’re the witches, we’re the bad fairies, we’re the monsters and the beasts. We don’t need rescuing, there’s no princesses here. Rich blood orange and sweet chili pepper; a heart of dragon’s blood; smoky oud, fresh dirt, vetiver and cade.) The name and the description on the website suggest something tough, rather than girly, and it really is. Also, despite the name, it smelled very unisex. A guy could totally wear this. It starts off quite fiery. The resins here are red and tart, not smoky. The chili gives it a lovely kick. The earth and cade notes threaten to go a bit soapy? but just before that happens it settles down into something richer and calmer. Smells like a dragon more than a princess, and I love that. Wear it if you have to confront your ex or your arch nemesis. Off With Her Head(For the unpredictable Queen of Hearts in Wonderland: A confection of buttery puff pastry adorned with strawberries; a croquet lawn of freshly-cut grass; white roses stained raspberry red; and heady pink flamingo musk) Pastry! I am inside a croissant. Someone else reviewed this and got all florals and cut grass, I’m still croissant. Though with wear I get a hint of summer garden and strawberry jam, and popcorn? It’s like I can smell a garden party on the other side of a fence which is made of pastry. (Has anyone else tried this, did you get the pastry side or the floral one?) Sea Witch(For the formidable sorceress who gave the Little Mermaid what she wanted: Salt breezes over dark ocean depths haunted by green weeds; rich black earth and unearthly incense; a jewelled flash of petitgrain; a ribbon of pure vanilla as sweet as a mermaid’s stolen song.) Another unisex one, despite the name/character it’s based on. I love this. A sweet, deep dark green aquatic with hints of lost mountains, some distant earthy notes, and a ghost of something floral? The vanilla in this is rich and warm amid all the dark green and blue. Someone else reviewing this got the seaweed notes, but to me it’s surprisingly clean, almost cologne like, but sweeter and stranger than most colognes. I want this in a linen spray so I can make me, and my house, smell of it. Another good one for reading with. Thorn & Spindle(For the sleeping spell and wall of thorns surrounding Sleeping Beauty: A fortress of ivy, creeping leaves, dark woods, and rich shadowy amber; a golden spinning-wheel of sandal and rosewood; a crown of wild roses; and a thread of sweet spun cotton candy) Big dark, dark forest with tiny little dewy flowers, and dark smooth woods for the ‘thorns’. The sandalwood and rosewood give it a warm sexy heart, and that little hint of spun sugar makes you want to follow it to whatever terrible doom it probably leads to. I already said in a review for this somewhere else: it’s basically a princess in a long white nightgown, running around a scary forest barefoot, with ominously sad music playing in the background. Love it. Ten Years, Pumpkin(Our sweet pumpkin caramelised with our own heavenly burnt-sugar blend; made decadent with oud, vanilla, and dulce de leche; and grounded in deep musky earth and cement. Unashamed gourmand badassery) If you like pumpkin, particularly CP pumpkin (which tends to be sugary and gritty, not spiced or bitter) then just get this. The only note here I wasn’t sure of was the ‘cement’, but that’s more of a background thing. The pumpkin itself here is very syrupy, boozey, rich and decadent with warm earthy tones, and hints of dark caramel, and coffee? It smells like one of those expensive deserts that’s served with real gold leaf on it. I really like CP pumpkins, this may be my favourite one so far. I want to eat it omg. Out of the whole bunch there was only one I didn't get on with, and about six that I need bigger sizes of. Very happy with that hit ratio.
CocoaPink (some from all seasons and the gen cat) review drop! Perfumes and some hair products
Happy Halloween IMAM-ers! <3 As a lover of gourmands, CocoaPinks catalogue has always captivated me! So far most of what I have bought from them are gourmand forward, however I am very curious to try out some of their other more unique offerings in the future. Anyways- With the ongoing black friday sale, I know people are looking for these reviews more now than ever, so I hope these can help folks decide what they might like to try out. Worth mentioning, their TAT has been spot on for the few times I have purchased from them over the past year. First I will talk about the hair products. I have super straight, dyed hair, and have not noticed any beyond normal fading or stripping of color over the time of use for either of these products. Shine Sweetie Conditioner - I LOVE this conditioner. It is super thick, honestly it reminds me of a lotion out of the bottle. What I love most about it though is it scents my hair for hours after the shower. It is so nice. It makes my hair really soft as well. I'm kinda obsessed with these. I've tried it in both Berry Iced Tea ( A frosted glass filled to the top with refreshing instant iced tea infused with ripe raspberry juice and golden peach syrup on the rocks) and Jelly Doughnut ( Sugar, Fried Dough, Sweet Vanilla, Sweet Strawberry). These are not at all nuanced or complex scents but that is totally fine, both smell exactly as the name would lead you to expect them to. Of the two, jelly doughnut has been my favorite though! Squeaky Clarifying Shampoo - So I have bought two bottles of these and I don't think I will be purchasing them again. They aren't bad by any means, just prefer my salon shampoo instead. The texture of this is interesting too, like a very thick gel. What I don't like about it is, it does not lather at all really and makes my hair feel dried out afterwards. The scents I have tried are Black Chocolate Raspberries (Fresh, juicy raspberries coated in a layer of rich dark chocolate with a hint of seduction) and Yellow Flip Flops (Creamy banana pudding infused with vanilla extract then blended with ripe banana slices, vanilla wafers with an extra shot of cold whipped cream). With black chocolate raspberries, I find that I actually wish the "black" wasn't there and it was more of a straightforward choco raspberry scent, whereas I found the banana in Yellow Flip Flops to be too artificial leaning. Onto the perfumes! These are all alcohol bases. Naughty Pumpkins : Naughty begins with two of our bestselling fragrance oils specially formulated just for CocoaPink: Spiritueuse Double Vanilla and our exclusive triple amber blend that we call “CP Black”. We then added some of our “Sweet Pumpkin” for a blend that raises the bar for foodie scents to new heights Exactly what it says on the tin. A vanilla-y pumpkin scent. This smells really nice at first application! But then disappears within minutes. Also, I will say that it is so vanilla forward, it is leaving me some more pumpkin to be desired. 6/10 Vampire’s Lament : Luscious strawberry milkshake essence spiked with white amber, metallic white musk then finished off with a splash of creamy vanilla This is like sexy strawberries. Grown up strawberries if you will. I like this one a lot. Pretty decent lasting time too. I wore this to work on my neck and it lasted just about over half my day. 8.5/10 Thrill Ride: Just as thrilling as a coaster ride, you will be delighted with this delicious treat! Tasty candied apples, pink sugar spun cotton candy and mouth-watering funnel cake sprinkled with powdered sugar. You will never want to get off this coaster! Wow I smell caramel apples and cotton candy! Then almost something custard-y? I'm assuming that's the funnel cake. I really like this one. What a yummy gourmandy scent. 9/10 Cake on Mondays* : delicious sponge cake made with almond extract, vanilla, and a hint of cinnamon, then slathered in cream cheese buttercream frosting. May cause irritation due to the spice notes. This smells so weird on me, I get pure almond extract. With maybe a hint of vanilla somewhere here? Ye, almond extract all the way with cake as a baby supporting note. After a few min of wear, I do get a hint of cinnamon coming through. Overall just really weird on me tho. 3/10 Candy Land - Red raspberry infused cotton candy frosting, white cake crumbles and sweet cake batter ice cream drizzled with vanilla bourbon. Smells primarily of cotton candy with a hint of berry and cake. Kinda artificial smelling to me. 4/10 Eva’s Ambrosia - Our lovely customer Eva came up with this mouthwatering blend of Sweet Sours, Lime Sugar, Satsuma Guava, Blood Orange & Boo Boo Lemon Noel. It is a must try! Weirdly enough this comes off as boozy. Then it turns fruity and more yum. Still meh though, there is a sharp artificial edge. 4.5/10 Valentine’s Day Carnival - Walking through the cool mid- February air hand in hand through the carnival you are greeted by the heavenly aroma of freshly spun pink cotton candy wisps, plump red raspberries, wild strawberry heart shaped lollipops, powdered sugar coated funnel cakes with soft hints of nostalgic cinnamon heart candies - truly a day to remember. Strongly berries and funnel cake at first, followed by cinnamon candy. And then it’s just… nearly gone. In minutes. I liked it while it lasted! 3/10 Strawberry Noel – it just keeps getting better. A perfectly balanced fresh strawberry that smells like real berries (not plasticy bubblegum strawberry), blended with VBN. Exactly what it says on the tin. Can't say much more than that. It's just as promised. Not the best strawberry I've ever smelled but that with VBN makes it so creamy and nice. 8/10 Cinderella’s Carriage – Coconut Cream Pie with Marshmallow Meringue, Sweet Pumpkin, Spiritueuse Double Vanilla, and Vanilla Bean Noel. Pumpkin cake at first! Then after some dry down it becomes more marshmallowy. Very difficult to pick out individual notes here but it is a desserty gourmand, easy pick for a safe/cozy perfume. 8/10 Off With Her Head! - A confection of buttery puff pastry adorned with strawberries; a croquet lawn of freshly-cut grass; white roses stained raspberry red; and heady pink flamingo musk. I bought this hoping it would be more pastry than anything else, unfortunately for me it runs very, very floral. I am not sure what pink musk is but perhaps that is contributing to that? I don't get any sweetness or grassy notes here just a rose scent. I tend to only like roses when they are heavily toned down by something fruity or bakery. 3/10 ------ Buying larger : Vampire's Lament, Thrill Ride, Strawberry Noel, Cinderella's Carriage For the scents I had longevity issues with, I am wondering if they would be much improved by buying in the SMAT scent intensity. I hope this helped and that everyone is having a great spooky day!
A synopsis of the Ron Magill segment.See the2020 Indexfor other shows. The final Ron Magill on the final Greg Cote Tuesday on ESPN.
Quote of the day
Sometimes it might be better to cut them off
New stats of the day
number of times Ron says:
Phrase
This show
Year to date
Bottom line
1
24
at the end of the day
0
13
Animals mentioned
Jimmy Durante
Aye-aye (lemur)
Blob fish
Booby, blue-footed
Bullet ant
cephalopods
Deer
Dogs
Elephants
Flamingos
Frog, waxy monkey
Humboldt squid
Hyenas
Kirk's dik-dik
Lions
Lions, Tsavo man-eaters
Octopus
pachyderms
Penguins
Slider turtle
Spider, peacock
Tigers
Questions
Roy Bellamy: I've seen many videos of people who have tamed wild animals. Like lions and they are just rubbing them like dogs. What does it take too tame a wild animal? And why haven't these animals turned on these people? Ron: A lot of these cases you might ask "Why haven't these animals turned on these people, YET." Because, more often than not, that's usually the end result. Bottom Line is these animals are raised with people. They look at people, not as a threat. Many people are very lucky, they can go through their lives without having any serious injuries. But, I can tell you, anybody who treats a lion like a dog is manufacturing a recipe for disaster. Even the people who do this -- Kevin Richardson, really well-known for interacting with lions and hyenas out in South Africa, will be the first to tell you he's probably going to die that way. Dan: Wow, that took a dark turn there, where you just sort of dismounted -- Ron: I'm just telling, I'm just trying to be honest with you guys. This is that old saying, you can take the animal out of the wild you can never take the wild out of the animal. Taming an animal and domesticating an animal are two totally different things. You may tame an animal temporarily, but as soon as that animal as an attitude or has a problem, or gets angry, somebodies gonna feel the wrath of the animal and it could be devastating.
Dan: How does one train a lion? Ron: I'm not going to give a course on training a lion on ESPN radio. Basically, it's just a matter of setting up a protocol. Trying to establish yourself as the hierarchy part of that. Lions are social animals, you've got to be the alpha male. You have to know how to work around these animals. You have to know there's certain body positions certain postures, certain smells that might set an animal off and that's all trial and error. It's tremendous amounts of experience and anybody who's trained these animals for any length of time I can guarantee every one of them has been injured, one way or another.
Dan: Have you ever had a bad interaction with a lion? Ron: No, I've never gotten into a situation where there's no barrier between me and an adult lion. I've been with juvenile lions, subadult lions, I've been slapped at a couple times, I've gotten scratched at a couple times, I've gotten some bites, but nothing like "I wanna kill you" type of stuff. Now at my age, I would never go in with an animal like that, at all.
Chris Cote: A zoo keeper has drawn the short straw when they have to clean this animal exhibit? Ron: ha ha ha ha. It depends on what you're looking at. If it's just physical work, it's gonna be an elephant exhibit. An elephant can defecate 300 pounds of feces in one day. Each elephant. That's a tremendous amount of work, that's a tremendous amount of weight, the wheelbarrows going up the ramp. It's a smell. Most elephant keepers, you know they're elephant keepers when they come home, because it's a smell that permeates through the body. I don't find it that offensive, a lot of people do. That's the hardest work. But if you're talking slimy and stuff, gosh, when you gotta clean the flamingo pond or the penguins -- a lot of these birds that feed on fish -- oh my gosh. Any fish-eating animal is just, the smell is just hellacious. It's horrible. You go to any penguin in any zoo and you'd be hard pressed not to be hit by the smell. No matter how clean or how wonderful the filtration is.
Michael Ryan Ruiz: I've been reading about the Tsavo man-eaters. They were sort of fictionalized and sensationalized in The Ghost and the Darkness. I'm wondering if lions can truly develop a taste for human flesh? Ron: Absolutely. There's no question about it. It's not necessarily a taste for human flesh, it's a taste for easy opportunity. Those lions found out this was easy prey. Remember, animals look at things "i hate you, so I'm going to kill you over anything else." They look at you and say, "you're easy, I can get you with minimum amount of energy and you provide a protein for me." You have the same issue with tigers in India. Once a tiger becomes a man-killer, those tigers have to be either removed from the area or they have to be taken out; they have to be euthanized. Because they have learned this is easy prey. It's a lot easier to catch a human than to catch a deer.
Vince: Would you rather be hit in the crotch by a humboldt squid or a bullet ant? Are cephalopods overrated, are pachyderms underrated? Why do dogs do that super cute Dan: Get out of here Get out of here Get out of here. Leave us alone. Answer whatever you heard, there. Ron: I wouldn't want to be hit in the crotch by a bullet ant. I was hit in the hand by a bullet ant and it felt like somebody hit me with a hammer kept in an iron fire. But having said that, the squid -- if you've ever seen the beak on a cephalopod, on these squids or octopus -- I mean it's not going to bite you, it's going to castrate you. One or the other -- Dan: no no no, a bullet ant and castration are two different things. It can be horrible, but a fiery hammer is not as bad as castration. Ron: I don't know, Dan.
Dan: Put it on the poll, Guillermo: Is a fiery hammer to the crotch worse than castration? Me: Reader, Guillermo did not put it on the poll.
Ron: A fiery hammer to the crotch, that's going to be ongoing, it's like he keeps hitting you with the hammer BAM BAM. The sting is not just boom one time and it's over. It keeps on going and it gets worse for hours. Sometimes it might be better to cut them off. Dan: Oh, for the love of god. Stugotz: I was going to say that. I'm with Ron. I think it might better to just cut them off. Dan: ok ok that's enough. Ron: Amputation, to sate the pain.
Dan: Let's just end the segment, there. Symbolically, with Ron Magill. You just heard the argument break out whether you'd prefer to be castrated or just have a throbbing pain from a fiery hammer in your crotch. Ron: OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Dan: Yes, you mentioned that. Thank you. Let's end that segment - Stugotz: IT SOUNDS LIKE THE WORST THING EVER. Dan: Well, castration sounds like the worst thing ever, is what I'm arguing. Castration sounds worse than a couple hours of throbbing pain. Yes. Come on. Mike, which way do you vote? Castrated or a fiery hammer to the loins for two hours? Michael Ryan Ruiz: Fiery loins. Dan: How about you, Tony? Tony, the new guy: Fiery loins. Dan: Roy? Roy Bellamy: My loin is on fire. Ron: You guys are young. See, I've already been through that phase, I'm older. Dan: Is this an age question? Alright, Greg Cote? Greg Cote: Castratin' it.
Dan: What's the video? Ron: Oh, it's a video of weird, ugly animals, but there's no sounds telling you what they are. The first one is called a blob fish; sometimes called the Jimmy Durante fish because of its nose. The next is a slider turtle. Then a waxy monkey frog, Then there's the Aye-aye (lemur) -- this is a really neat animal, it looks like something out of Star Wars. It has a neat little finger, it looks like yoda. Oh, and then you have the peacock spider. That is one of the greatest spiders ever - google peacock spider and look at the courtship of this spider. And then we have an octopus; what's so funny about an octopus? Oh, and the blue-footed booby. You go to the Galapagos Islands, they have all the booby pictures and they go "I love boobys." It's really fun. Dan: Ok, so there it is. The segment ends with a fireworks show of -- Ron: Oh, and then you have the Kirk's dik-dik. That's actually its real name. Let's end on that. A little Kirk's dik-dik [sings ESPN theme] Da dada Da dada Dan: I thought it was going to end with booby pix, but nope, he escalated it. We can't harness the old guys today.
The worst yard in the neighborhood was cleaned up for cult activity. Only Karen was strong enough to save us...
In every little slice of suburbia, quietly tucked away in those “cute neighborhoods” referenced in the real estate pamphlets, there is always THAT house. You know the one. The “shit show.” Welcome to Saddle Downs. At one time the best neighborhood in town, but now amongst the perfectly manicured lawns and driveways with nary a spot of oil leakage, an unholy abomination that looks like an episode of Hoarders made sweet love to Fred Sanford’s bread and butter elicits sighs and dramatic eye rolling from all who reside here. They wonder out loud “how someone who can afford to buy here could live in that kind of mess. Of all the damned nerve!” Standing in the driveway--garden hose in hand and meticulously rinsing my yard tools, I surveyed my crab grass outbreak with disdain and BOILED under the surface about what he’s done to this once beautiful collection of domiciles. I know the property values here have completely gone to shit. How could they not? And it’s ME who has to live DIRECTLY ACROSS THE STREET from him. The trash. The junk. The 1989 Geo Metro with no hood. The kiddie pool full of slime and frogs. FFS, he has three VCR’s stacked beside the mailbox. Yes…I said VCR’s And is it so damned hard to cut your grass on Tuesdays like the rest of us?? I want to try the new edger I picked up during a July 4th sale (40 volt, top of the line), but as of right now I haven’t even seen the point. My yard will look like shit no matter what, because of HIM. The neighborhood association won’t help. If it’s anything other than potholes or barbeques, they have a “hands off” approach to governance. I plan to run for president in the spring. Anyway…I could feel my blood pressure going through the roof that night, and the plant-based diet I switched to wasn’t doing shit to help bring it down. Something HAD to be done about him… Ladies and gentlemen, meet Allen. Mid 50’s, twice married and twice divorced, he works as an I.T. contractor for the state. Being stuck at home because of Covid, I hadn’t seen him outside in months. Who needs to go outside when you have GrubHub and your lawn mower is lying next to the house in 100 pieces? He had made a perfect hermit’s life, intrinsically safe from those of us who only asked for a little bit of respect for the neighborhood. So, imagine my surprise when at 6pm last Friday evening, he suddenly stumbles out the front door, down the steps, and begins cleaning up his yard. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was so stunned that I forgot the hose was still on until it soaked my favorite pair of Duluth Trading khakis. I blinked a few times to confirm what I was seeing. Allen was actually cleaning! I quickly gathered my tools and hung them in their outlined spots on the pegboard my wife, Karen, got me for Father’s Day. Her essential oils business has really taken off lately and she’s starting to spoil me. It’s amazing what people will do for some of her concoctions. She’s got proven anecdotal evidence of the efficacy of her blends. She’s healed everything from spider bites to yeast infections with those little bottles of miracle juice. I practically sprinted into the house to let her know what Allen was up to. Making sure to sit by the window the rest of the evening, I continued to peek out at my new favorite neighbor during commercial breaks in the Sean Hannity show. I wanted so very badly to go talk to him about it, but I was terrified that interrupting his task would jinx my good fortune. When I went to bed around 9:30, Allen was still hard at it and showed no signs of slowing. The next morning at 6:15 I heard the familiar beeps that signal a large vehicle moving in reverse. I nearly fell over trying to slip into my Crocs to get to the porch and have a look. A massive flatbed truck was dropping a 30 foot long dumpster in the yard. Allen was really getting serious! I couldn’t take it any longer. I had planned to spend the day applying epoxy to my garage floor, but it was Allen’s project I was truly excited about now. I had to go over there. Quickly putting on some work quality clothes, I calmly made my way down the driveway and across the street. The yard was already looking better, but it really did have a long way to go. Allen was working like a madman. He’s about 5’6 and half as wide as he is tall. What remained of his light brown hair was shaggy and unkempt, and he always wore the same outfit; dark gray suit pants, worn out loafers, and one of those silky, short sleeve dress shirts with vertical stripes that were popular in the early 1980’s. Despite the less than ideal attire for the task at hand, Allen was working his ass off…and so would I. It was clear that absolutely nothing in the yard would escape the dumpster’s insatiable appetite, so without a word I fell in beside him and set to work. It was a beautiful free-for-all and I was having the time of my life. I practically pranced around the yard, grabbing up anything I felt capable of getting over the side of the giant trash receptacle. Toys, scrap metal, fast food trash, some ugly ass yard ornaments Allen’s ex-wife had set out back in the late 90’s. Plastic frogs and flamingoes, bleached and dried brittle by 20 plus years of sun and weather cycles. It was the most fun I’ve since the free resort weekend I scored just for attending a time share seminar and buying a share of a sweet villa in Branson, Missouri. Oddly enough though, after a solid half hour of work Allen hadn’t said a word, or even acknowledged my presence for that matter. I finally broke the ice. “Hey buddy! Just thought I’d come out here and give you some help. You’ve got a BIG job on your hands here, but it’ll be totally worth the effort. I even have a perfect grass seed blend for you. I came up with it myself after a long battle with clover. You won’t believe how good it’ll look in a few weeks!” Allen never acknowledged my presence. He just continued, pushing himself harder and harder. His hair was all over the place and sweat had soaked through his clothes from head to toe. A thought suddenly hit me. I lightly grabbed him by the upper arm and said “Hey Allen. Did you ever stop last night?” “No.” I pressed further “You didn’t come in at all? You’ve just been out here nonstop?” “Yes.” It was killing me. I risked ruining everything, but I had to ask. “Hey man…Why are you suddenly cleaning up after 20 years of neglecting your yard and ignoring everyone who has ever asked you to do something about it?” Under labored breath, still without slowing even a step or glancing my direction, he said “They’re coming.” I inquired further. “Who’s coming? You having a family get together? Pampered Chef party? Jehovah’s Witnesses stopping by to check on your soul?” Allen suddenly snapped up, lunged at me and screamed directly in my face. “NO…NO NO NO!!” He abruptly turned and went right back to picking up a large chunk of a broken toilet covered in wet leaves, heaving it into the dumpster and waddling to the other side of the driveway to begin unearthing an old riding mower covered in the remnants of a splintered water bed frame. I was a bit caught off guard by the aggression. Regardless, I was so happy to see Allen’s grass for the first time since April 22nd, 2001 that I was willing to overlook his anger. Still, though, at that point I felt it best to just go on back home. I went ahead and started on my garage floor project. I backed my RAV-4 out into the driveway. I didn’t have to deal with Karen’s Volvo because she had an early appointment at the hair salon, then planned to return some things at a department store she felt were dishonestly presented by the salesperson…I think she planned on giving that manager a piece of her mind. After a few more days of cleaning outside, inside, and having a huge fence built around the yard, Allen’s place was looking great. I decided I would go shake the hands of whatever visitors he was having that had motivated him to take on this glorious project. As it turned out, I was given the opportunity to do so sooner than expected. Allen’s guests arrived the very next day. It was an interesting looking bunch that piled out of a few of those monster passenger vans. Upon closer inspection I saw the side of them said “ZIP-LIFE HOLISTICS.” Everyone looked to be under 40 or so, and some of them couldn’t have been much past their high school years. Athletic wear—more specifically, track suits—was the prevailing choice in attire for every single one of them. Each of them wore a different color, though, and when they got out of the vans it was like someone dumped a bag of skittles onto the driveway. Their energy was boundless. Running, jumping, and shouting loudly with the same enthusiasm I feel when my grass finally reaches the 4.5 inch mark and I get to fire up the Cub Cadet. God I love that mower. Everyone congregated in the front yard, surrounding Allen and giving him endless handshakes and pats on the back. Allen looked exhausted, but he had put on his best smile for the greeting. Behind that big smile though, terror filled his eyes. The next morning at 7:00 on the dot, the cheers began. “WHO-LIVES-THEIR-LIFE WITH ZIP AND PRIDE??” “WE DO! WE DO!” “WHO FLOWS WITH JOY THEY CAN-NOT HIDE??” “WE DO! WE DO!” They did this OVER and OVER and OVER for a solid 15 minutes, stopping only to cheer and clap. Finally, they shut it down and bounded off to the van where a woman was handing out leaflets of some sort. They began to sprint off throughout the neighborhood, so after all of them were gone I sauntered over to talk to Allen. He was alone in the yard, dressed in a lime green track suit and doing jumping jacks. I feigned enthusiasm. “Hey buddy. How’s it going with the visitors? They’re sure an energetic bunch!” His attitude had turned a complete 180 degrees. “Oh, hey Brad! Yeah, they’re stupendous! What a great bunch of people. They’re gonna change the life of everyone in this neighborhood. Just you wait and see!” Despite Allen’s zeal, I was skeptical and still a touch unnerved by the arrival of these health ambassadors. I mean…maybe they could help the neighborhood get back on track. Quarantine had really taken its toll on the midsection and hind quarters of just about everyone in Saddle Downs. Working from home was awesome, but the cafeteria choices were endless now. Eating had become a sport for me by that point. I figured I could try and get on board. It was just a bunch of over-zealous kids, right? “Well Allen, I suppose all of us could use some guidance right now…and maybe they’ve got some techniques to help us avoid Covid, right?” “Oh, most definitely brad. Most definitely. You’ll see.” That was enough for me for the moment. As I started back to my own yard, I turned back and asked Allen how he got involved with these people. “I met them on the Internet playing an ORPG game called Second Life!” I had no idea what that was, but the answer was good enough for me. I cruised back over to the house, figuring Karen had my kale shake ready to go, along with a little avocado and falafel on toast that would likely NOT hit the spot. As the day wore on, I kept an eye on things out on the streets of Saddle Downs. The Lifers, as I’ll refer to them, were going door-to-door with their flyers. Some successfully gained entry to make what I presumed was their sales pitch, while others maintained that huge smile and boundless enthusiasm after being turned away at the door. They did, however, leave a small yellow sticker on the mailbox on the way out. Allen continued to exercise, with one of the Zip-Life zealots cheering him on. Eventually a couple of them were on my doorstep. Ugh. It was the first time I had seen any of them up close, and the only way I can describe them accurately is to say… They dazzled. The startlingly attractive young man and woman before me had perfectly straight, shockingly white teeth. Their aroma was fantastic, like some perfect blend of sugar cookies and Tide Pods. Clean, and sweet. It was intoxicating. Their eyes were big, bright and full of life, reminding me of those things that endlessly swirl and put you into a daze while the hypnotist snatches your wallet. The whites were white enough to make me squint, and their irises were vivid in color and matched their track suits. The young man’s orange irises didn’t have that fake look you see with color contacts, either. I think they were legit, which for a split second sent a chill down my spine. As the young man began his pitch, perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth opened to a mouth that said “Hello sir! I’m Tanner and this is Kylee. We’re friends of your neighbor, Allen Randall, and are representatives of the world’s number one door-to-door health and wellness company, Zip-Life Holistics!” I have no idea what he said after that. All I remember is smiling dreamily, looking back and forth between their mesmerizing eyes, skin that appeared to have disco balls embedded in its pores, and feeling compelled to only breathe through my nose. I found my feet shifting below me as I pushed open the storm door and welcomed them into my home. Floating in sheer ecstasy, I led them to the couch, where they sat down and produced a flyer for me to read. At that moment, all I could think of was how much I wanted to please these strangers. How I would do absolutely anything for Taylor and Kylee. Yes, I’ll sign those forms. Yes, I’ll be ready at 10pm on Friday. Sure, I’ll be eating nothing but raw, organic foods until then. I’ll do everything just as you wish. I just want to be well, for YOU. Thank you for saving me.” Thank God for Karen. She had been in the Kitchen, live streaming one of her “Super Coupon” videos (she has 152 subscribers…not too shabby, right?) and hadn’t noticed Tanner and Kylee’s entrance until the smell hit her. “Who’s here? That’s not Gain. That’s Tide. That shit is expensive! Someone needs a coupon lesson!” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me starting to sign papers. “Don’t you sign anything Brad! They’re probably gonna hit your credit card for a hundred bucks a month or something.” “You kids skedaddle. Didn’t you see the magnet on my car? I blend ESSENTIAL OILS. Do you know what that means? It means get the heck out of my house with your worthless pills, or whatever other malarkey you’re peddling. It ain’t happenin’! Not on my watch!” The two beautiful, amazing smelling Lifers smiled, thanked me for my time, and gave Karen a little death stare as they made for the door. Karen followed them into the yard, yelling the whole way. “Don’t you make a face at me! I’ve got your leaflet in the house and don’t you think for a second that I won’t call your manager about these shady tactics you’re using!” I exhaled sharply and ran my hands across my face to wake up a bit. When I looked back up they were gone…and one of those little yellow stickers adorned our mailbox. Karen gave me a bit of a scolding after she came back inside, but I did deserve it. It didn’t last too long, though, because she had to get to work on a big batch of potato salad to take to a party at my office. Those people love her recipe. The rest of the Lifers eventually congregated back at Allen’s house. It looked like they were camping in the back yard, which is probably why Allen had that absurdly high fence installed. Around 7pm, things got…weird. Firstly, there was more cheering. After the noise subsided I could hear a lot of grunting and groaning, and eventually curiosity got the best of me. I grabbed a ladder and made my way up to the roof. Our houses are more diagonally lined up, so with a bit of height I got a pretty clear view of Allen’s back yard. It looked like they were performing feats of strength. Some of them began picking up landscaping rocks the size of watermelons, followed by each taking a turn throwing theirs across the yard as far as possible. The best throw was about 15 feet, which was REALLY far for a rock that I would guess weighs around 200lbs. The winner? Kylee, all 5’2 and 120lbs of her. After that, some of the men locked arms and legs, building upon each other for some kind of creation. Bodies twisted and contorted, eventually taking the shape of a wheel…complete with human spokes. One of the women gave them a push, and off they went, rolling across the yard. It was an impressive feat of strength and flexibility…and just a touch unsettling. The wheel made it back around the yard, and several more of the men stood on others’ shoulders on both sides of the “wheel,” eventually revealing themselves to be posts. The entire contraption together became a freaky Ferris wheel. Someone gave it a push, and off it went, slowly rotating on an axis made of the backs of their brethren. That was both mesmerizing AND freaky, but a big group of the women, however, really pushed the envelope. The men began to chant. DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! It took a few minutes for it all to come together, but after everyone was in position I was looking at all 20 of the women bent into impossible positions and exercising body control that would require the strength of a herd of elephants. Arms bent backward, shoulders dislocated and twisted in ways that would paralyze any normal person. I felt bile rise in my throat, even viewing it from over 100 feet away. All the disgusting contortions came together, and suddenly I was looking at a 10 foot tall spider with the entire body and 8 legs made of people who should have been dead from their positioning alone. And it wasn’t unstable. It wasn’t about to collapse like one of those shitty popsicle stick houses we made in kindergarten. Had it not been so terrifying, it would have been nothing short of magnificent. And then that spider WALKED… And then it RAN… Their bodies were in perfect harmony as “it” ran across the back yard. More chanting. “SPI-DER! SPI-DER! SPI-DER! SPI-DER!” Continuing to run with absolute accuracy, they began to emit a clicking sound that I can only describe as “how a spider sounds in a movie.” “TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A! TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A” My skin was crawling at this point. Then, as if the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre and terrifying, I watched as that human spider crawled right up the back wall of Allen’s three story house and onto the roof. And when it stopped I realized that before it crawled up the house, several of the men had jumped on and stacked themselves close on the front of the spider body. Their heads were packed tightly together, and their eyes became the spider’s eyes. And they blinked in unison. Then it shifted a bit. The legs, the body, and those eyes, rotating around while a few dozen mouths emitted that “tick-a tick-a tick-a” sound. In a side profile stance, facing off in the distance it stood. It felt as if everything around me had gone silent. This wasn’t just funny, or creepy anymore. It was downright scary. And as I soaked it all in and began to wonder what the hell I was really witnessing, I watched, horrified as every Lifer on that hideous creation turned their head toward me. And they smiled… ************************************************************************************* I slept like absolute shit that night. After the spider spent a few minutes twitching around on the roof and looking at me, it/they crawled back down to the yard and disassembled. Eventually everyone settled down and I didn’t hear anything else until early morning when the daily cheering began again. I must admit, the spider really scared me. When I said those girls got into impossible positions I was NOT exaggerating. I was looking at fully dislocated shoulders and hips, spines twisted up like paper clips, and heads that twisted completely around. These were not normal people. This routine continued for the rest of the week. -Wake up and cheer -Work the neighborhood -Cheer some more -Do weird shit in the back yard until dark, including but not limited to -Relay races (on their hands) -Professional-style wrestling (without padding) -Duck, Duck, Goose and Red Rover (with tackling) -Forming a human snake 50 feet long and slithering around the house for 45 straight minutes, with everyone making a “sssssssssssssssssssssss” sound and flicking their tongues. Then every few minutes coiling up and striking at imaginary things. They did try to make their pitch to us once each day, becoming more persistent as the week progressed, but Karen always shooed them off. On their Friday afternoon visit she even sprayed them with lavender oil. Tanner looked PISSED about it, too. As the days wore on, though, I noticed the little yellow stickers eventually being removed, and figured my weak minded neighbors were finally giving in and agreeing to the presentation. Not Karen, though. She’s hardcore about this kind of thing. Four days into this adventure, I noticed something. I had never seen them eating, drinking, or going into the house to use the bathroom. I did see twice a day they were given a shot glass worth of some kind of liquid, which I presumed was whatever product they must be selling Despite it all, the neighborhood was still running normally. People came and went, cars were washed, and dogs were walked. Mrs. Bush down the street was in her front yard, drunk and arguing with her adult son, who was also drunk, about his chronic unemployment and wasting his government money on “cheap women.” Friday night, Karen and I were sipping some of our favorite craft beer on the porch when we noticed an abnormally large number of people heading down the street. I recognized some of the faces and others were foreign to me, but they all turned in to Allen’s driveway and formed a line that extended a ways down the street. I suddenly recalled something on Tanner and Kylee’s pamphlet about “being there” on Friday at 10pm. A quick check of my watch confirmed that it was, in-fact, 10pm. Now I was REALLY interested to see what was going down. I moved from the porch to the living room to watch one of these quarantine MLB games, which was almost as weird as watching the Lifers do their thing. I kept a constant eye on the goings-on at Allen’s though and as the evening wore on the traffic really picked up. For hours I sat there watching neighbors get in line, looking completely happy and relaxed—no doubt enjoying the Scent of sugar cookies and eye candy the Lifers provided—waiting their turn to go behind the gate. Several of the Lifers looked to almost be standing guard there, with more standing along the street in front of the house. All night long, the cycle was the same. -Person goes through the gate on one side of the house, followed by a few minutes of silence. -Horrific screaming, followed by the Lifers clapping and cheering. -Then the person shuffled out of the gate on the other side of the house, and very slowly shuffled home. By 2am, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get a look behind that house again, even if it WAS a shitty angle. I was headed for the roof again. I grabbed my ladder and began my ascent. As I reached the top rung and my head cleared the roof line, I heard a voice coming from below—accompanied by the very faint smell of sugar cookies. It was Tanner. “Hey Brad! Whatcha doin’ up there?” He gave the ladder a little shake. “I don’t think it’s safe to be up on the roof this late. Why don’t you come on down and go back in the house? Kylee said Karen looks pretty lonely in the bed.” They were watching Karen sleep?? Now I was angry. I felt a surge of adrenaline, and it was finally time to tell this asshole what I really thought of him and his stupid Lifer friends. “Tanner, why don’t YOU get the FUCK out of my yard and go back to your weird-ass cult across the street before I call the cops!” Tanner chuckled and said “Braaaaaaad. YOUR NEIGHBOR, the chief of police is in line at Allen’s right this minute. You know that.” And then he literally jumped straight up the 30 feet to my roof. Tanner crouched directly in front of me, grabbed my ladder and tipped me a foot back from the edge, literally holding my life in his right hand. His orange eyes glowed like two big fireflies in the darkness. “Brad. Everything is fine over there. It would REALLY be in your best interest to climb back down this VERY unstable ladder and get “the FUCK” back in your house.” I nodded, scared shitless. My adrenaline surged again as I gripped that ladder with every ounce of strength I had. There was no exit plan here if he let me go, and I am not ashamed to admit that I wet my pants. “Ok, Tanner. I’ll go back inside. Please, PLEASE move my ladder back and let me climb down.” And just like that, he returned the ladder to a safe angle, got in a high-dive position and did a gainer off the roof, landing perfectly on his feet. When I stepped off, he was directly in my face. He did NOT smell like cookies and Tide now. He smelled musty, like an old museum. The glimmer in his skin came and went like static on a TV, and his eyes no longer dazzled. He looked tired, as if he’d used up every ounce of his normally boundless energy. That’s the last thing I remember. I woke up on the couch around 7:00. My drool-covered shirt was turned halfway around my torso and one of my socks was missing in action. I felt absolutely awful. Every muscle ached to some degree and my feet felt like they were made of lead. I was completely exhausted, and my back felt like it was on fire. I made it to the kitchen and tried to get my head together. Out of nowhere, I was suddenly ready to MURDER someone for some bacon…or sausage…or a bagel with Lox…or some Lay’s potato chips…or a big glass of sea water. I threw my middle finger in the air and turned in a circle to let ALL the components of Karen’s stupid plant-based diet know what I thought of them. Dr. Ornish could eat a dick…actually I guess he wouldn’t, though. I practically DRAGGED myself to the window to see what the Lifers were up to. They were gone. I was startled as Karen emerged from the hallway, tripped, and fell flat on her face, sending half a dozen essential oil vials flying across the room. I was too tired to even try to help her up. Groaning, she pushed herself up on her elbows. “What the hell happened last night, Brad? The last thing I remember is that Kylee girl standing beside my bed speaking in another language. There were bits of English mixed in there. She said something like ‘we are ancient…older than death himself…’ and then something about cows and pigs no longer being sufficient?” I looked at her like she had three eyes. Not only was I in tremendous pain…I was feeling a little combative. “What? Are you drunk? Did you put too much lemongrass and ylang-ylang in your tea again last night??” When Karen is pissed, her voice gets really nasal and her A’s are literally enough to bust eardrums. After my smartass comment, I really had it coming, though. “NOOOOOOO BRAAAAD! She said it! She said that shit, and the last thing of it I recall is her rolling me over onto my stomach and saying “Thanks bitch. I’ll fill you back up with Marjoram.” She had managed to stand again, but doubled over in pain and hit the floor once more. “Ughhhhhh…Damn-it Brad, why does my back hurt SOOOOO BAAAAD???” I looked down at her exposed back. It was swollen and red, and she had a tiny hole or needle mark just above each kidney. I had the same. What the heck was up there? Trying to look at my own back, I began turning in circles like a dog trying to sniff its own butt. “Karen, look at these holes in my back. What’s in that spot?” She had spent a few years in nursing school back in the day before quitting to sell door-to-door cosmetics, and god only knows what other flavor of the week MLMs that came about. She thought about it for a moment. “I think it’s the adrenal gland. What the…did they steal our adrenaline???!!! I helped Karen to her feet, we plopped ourselves down at the kitchen table, and I blacked out. ************************************************************************************* Three hours later I woke up, my cheek smashed down on the table. Surrounding me was remnants of a bag of beef jerky, a jar of pickles with no juice, and my mouth was caked in what tasted like feta cheese. Karen was on the floor, blocking the doorway threshold and mumbling something in her sleep about not needing a receipt. Peeking out from under the edge of her robe was what was left of the block of feta. I shuffled my way to the bathroom, stripped off my disheveled and urine stained clothes, and let a hot shower take me away to paradise. God I was thirsty. Karen says the chlorine and fluoride in city water is bad for me, but I didn’t care. I drank it right out of the faucet. After getting cleaned up, I stepped out on the patio for some fresh air. Many of my neighbors were out and about, moving like they were 100 years old but trying to do the normal stuff--taking walks, washing cars, etc. I gingerly made my way next door to speak with my buddy Mike. He had been out of town most of the week, but I saw him in line last night. I caught up to him as he was checking his mail. “Yo Mike. How’s it going?” He looked terrible. “Hey Brad. Man I feel like complete shit. I don’t know what the hell happened to me last night. I haven’t felt this bad since I got completely plastered at your Super bowl party.” I vividly remember that event. Mike, the 50 year old accountant, attempted a backflip on a dare and landed on his face. I looked at him quizzically. “You mean you don’t remember being at Allen’s? Going behind the fence for the Zip-Life product demonstration?” He closed the mailbox and looked back up at me. “The what? Zip Who? I haven’t spoken with Allen in months. I’d like to kiss him right on the mouth though, for finally cleaning up his property. I wish I had been here to see it. Damn, dude. My back is killing me!” He turned and raised his shirt, and sure enough… the same swelling and holes in his back. I told him what I suspected had happened to us, but he had absolutely no recollection of the Lifers ever having set foot in Saddle Downs. I was too tired to press the issue, and Mike didn’t seem to care about the holes in his back. It’s like his memory and even his sense of self-preservation was just…absent. I ended the conversation and made my way a couple houses down, intercepting a lady named Sandra as she VERY slowly made her way through the morning walk she’s taken every single day for 23 years. We had the same conversation. She had the same marks, and like Mike, had no memory of the night before. I tried several others and got more of the same. Finally I headed for Allen’s house, banging HARD on the door. When he answered, it was clear that I had woken him up. He was wearing nothing but a pair of old, very undersized boxers. “Uhhh…hey Brad. What’s up?” “Allen, I’ve had enough of this shit. What the hell did those people do to everyone last night??” He looked completely confused. “What? What are you talking about? Who?” I roared with every ounce of strength I had left. “THE ZIP-LIFE PEOPLE, ALLEN! THEY JACKED EVERYONE UP! WE ALL HAVE HOLES ABOVE OUR KIDNEYS AND NO ONE KNOWS WHY! I’M THE ONLY ONE THAT EVEN REMEMBERS THEM BEING HERE!” All of a sudden it was like the light bulb went off. Allen’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. I exhaled sharply, relieved that SOMEONE could finally shed some light on all of this. Allen jumped through the door, darting back and forth across the porch, giving evil stares to everyone he could see. As he flew by me for the third time I caught a look at his shirtless back… There was nothing. No holes. No swelling. Just a nice, plump back with enough hair on it to sculpt a mowhawk. And as he ran out into the street with murder in his eyes, naked aside from the underwear hanging halfway down his ass, I knew the story had ended. I wasn’t going to get my answer, because I knew what the next words out of his mouth would be. Wild-eyed, and practically foaming at the mouth with rage, he said… “WHICH ONE OF YOU ASSHOLES CLEANED UP MY YARD!” My favorite neighbor
The neighborhood hoarder finally cleaned up his yard. I think he was making room for a cult.
In every little slice of suburbia, quietly tucked away in those “cute neighborhoods” referenced in the real estate pamphlets, there is always THAT house. You know the one. The “shit show.” Welcome to Saddle Downs. At one time the best neighborhood in town, but now amongst the perfectly manicured lawns and driveways with nary a spot of oil leakage, an unholy abomination that looks like an episode of Hoarders made sweet love to Fred Sanford’s bread and butter elicits sighs and dramatic eye rolling from all who reside here. They wonder out loud “how someone who can afford to buy here could live in that kind of mess. Of all the damned nerve!” Standing in the driveway--garden hose in hand and meticulously rinsing my yard tools, I surveyed my crab grass outbreak with disdain and BOILED under the surface about what he’s done to this once beautiful collection of domiciles. I know the property values here have completely gone to shit. How could they not? And it’s ME who has to live DIRECTLY ACROSS THE STREET from him. The trash. The junk. The 1989 Geo Metro with no hood. The kiddie pool full of slime and frogs. FFS, he has three VCR’s stacked beside the mailbox. Yes…I said VCR’s And is it so damned hard to cut your grass on Tuesdays like the rest of us?? I want to try the new edger I picked up during a July 4th sale (40 volt, top of the line), but as of right now I haven’t even seen the point. My yard will look like shit no matter what, because of HIM. The neighborhood association won’t help. If it’s anything other than potholes or barbeques, they have a “hands off” approach to governance. I plan to run for president in the spring. Anyway…I could feel my blood pressure going through the roof that night, and the plant-based diet I switched to wasn’t doing shit to help bring it down. Something HAD to be done about him… Ladies and gentlemen, meet Allen. Mid 50’s, twice married and twice divorced, he works as an I.T. contractor for the state. Being stuck at home because of Covid, I hadn’t seen him outside in months. Who needs to go outside when you have GrubHub and your lawn mower is lying next to the house in 100 pieces? He had made a perfect hermit’s life, intrinsically safe from those of us who only asked for a little bit of respect for the neighborhood. So, imagine my surprise when at 6pm last Friday evening, he suddenly stumbles out the front door, down the steps, and begins cleaning up his yard. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was so stunned that I forgot the hose was still on until it soaked my favorite pair of Duluth Trading khakis. I blinked a few times to confirm what I was seeing. Allen was actually cleaning! I quickly gathered my tools and hung them in their outlined spots on the pegboard my wife, Karen, got me for Father’s Day. Her essential oils business has really taken off lately and she’s starting to spoil me. It’s amazing what people will do for some of her concoctions. She’s got proven anecdotal evidence of the efficacy of her blends. She’s healed everything from spider bites to yeast infections with those little bottles of miracle juice. I practically sprinted into the house to let her know what Allen was up to. Making sure to sit by the window the rest of the evening, I continued to peek out at my new favorite neighbor during commercial breaks in the Sean Hannity show. I wanted so very badly to go talk to him about it, but I was terrified that interrupting his task would jinx my good fortune. When I went to bed around 9:30, Allen was still hard at it and showed no signs of slowing. The next morning at 6:15 I heard the familiar beeps that signal a large vehicle moving in reverse. I nearly fell over trying to slip into my Crocs to get to the porch and have a look. A massive flatbed truck was dropping a 30 foot long dumpster in the yard. Allen was really getting serious! I couldn’t take it any longer. I had planned to spend the day applying epoxy to my garage floor, but it was Allen’s project I was truly excited about now. I had to go over there. Quickly putting on some work quality clothes, I calmly made my way down the driveway and across the street. The yard was already looking better, but it really did have a long way to go. Allen was working like a madman. He’s about 5’6 and half as wide as he is tall. What remained of his light brown hair was shaggy and unkempt, and he always wore the same outfit; dark gray suit pants, worn out loafers, and one of those silky, short sleeve dress shirts with vertical stripes that were popular in the early 1980’s. Despite the less than ideal attire for the task at hand, Allen was working his ass off…and so would I. It was clear that absolutely nothing in the yard would escape the dumpster’s insatiable appetite, so without a word I fell in beside him and set to work. It was a beautiful free-for-all and I was having the time of my life. I practically pranced around the yard, grabbing up anything I felt capable of getting over the side of the giant trash receptacle. Toys, scrap metal, fast food trash, some ugly ass yard ornaments Allen’s ex-wife had set out back in the late 90’s. Plastic frogs and flamingoes, bleached and dried brittle by 20 plus years of sun and weather cycles. It was the most fun I’ve since the free resort weekend I scored just for attending a time share seminar and buying a share of a sweet villa in Branson, Missouri. Oddly enough though, after a solid half hour of work Allen hadn’t said a word, or even acknowledged my presence for that matter. I finally broke the ice. “Hey buddy! Just thought I’d come out here and give you some help. You’ve got a BIG job on your hands here, but it’ll be totally worth the effort. I even have a perfect grass seed blend for you. I came up with it myself after a long battle with clover. You won’t believe how good it’ll look in a few weeks!” Allen never acknowledged my presence. He just continued, pushing himself harder and harder. His hair was all over the place and sweat had soaked through his clothes from head to toe. A thought suddenly hit me. I lightly grabbed him by the upper arm and said “Hey Allen. Did you ever stop last night?” “No.” I pressed further “You didn’t come in at all? You’ve just been out here nonstop?” “Yes.” It was killing me. I risked ruining everything, but I had to ask. “Hey man…Why are you suddenly cleaning up after 20 years of neglecting your yard and ignoring everyone who has ever asked you to do something about it?” Under labored breath, still without slowing even a step or glancing my direction, he said “They’re coming.” I inquired further. “Who’s coming? You having a family get together? Pampered Chef party? Jehovah’s Witnesses stopping by to check on your soul?” Allen suddenly snapped up, lunged at me and screamed directly in my face. “NO…NO NO NO!!” He abruptly turned and went right back to picking up a large chunk of a broken toilet covered in wet leaves, heaving it into the dumpster and waddling to the other side of the driveway to begin unearthing an old riding mower covered in the remnants of a splintered water bed frame. I was a bit caught off guard by the aggression. Regardless, I was so happy to see Allen’s grass for the first time since April 22nd, 2001 that I was willing to overlook his anger. Still, though, at that point I felt it best to just go on back home. I went ahead and started on my garage floor project. I backed my RAV-4 out into the driveway. I didn’t have to deal with Karen’s Volvo because she had an early appointment at the hair salon, then planned to return some things at a department store she felt were dishonestly presented by the salesperson…I think she planned on giving that manager a piece of her mind. After a few more days of cleaning outside, inside, and having a huge fence built around the yard, Allen’s place was looking great. I decided I would go shake the hands of whatever visitors he was having that had motivated him to take on this glorious project. As it turned out, I was given the opportunity to do so sooner than expected. Allen’s guests arrived the very next day. It was an interesting looking bunch that piled out of a few of those monster passenger vans. Upon closer inspection I saw the side of them said “ZIP-LIFE HOLISTICS.” Everyone looked to be under 40 or so, and some of them couldn’t have been much past their high school years. Athletic wear—more specifically, track suits—was the prevailing choice in attire for every single one of them. Each of them wore a different color, though, and when they got out of the vans it was like someone dumped a bag of skittles onto the driveway. Their energy was boundless. Running, jumping, and shouting loudly with the same enthusiasm I feel when my grass finally reaches the 4.5 inch mark and I get to fire up the Cub Cadet. God I love that mower. Everyone congregated in the front yard, surrounding Allen and giving him endless handshakes and pats on the back. Allen looked exhausted, but he had put on his best smile for the greeting. Behind that big smile though, terror filled his eyes. The next morning at 7:00 on the dot, the cheers began. “WHO-LIVES-THEIR-LIFE WITH ZIP AND PRIDE??” “WE DO! WE DO!” “WHO FLOWS WITH JOY THEY CAN-NOT HIDE??” “WE DO! WE DO!” They did this OVER and OVER and OVER for a solid 15 minutes, stopping only to cheer and clap. Finally, they shut it down and bounded off to the van where a woman was handing out leaflets of some sort. They began to sprint off throughout the neighborhood, so after all of them were gone I sauntered over to talk to Allen. He was alone in the yard, dressed in a lime green track suit and doing jumping jacks. I feigned enthusiasm. “Hey buddy. How’s it going with the visitors? They’re sure an energetic bunch!” His attitude had turned a complete 180 degrees. “Oh, hey Brad! Yeah, they’re stupendous! What a great bunch of people. They’re gonna change the life of everyone in this neighborhood. Just you wait and see!” Despite Allen’s zeal, I was skeptical and still a touch unnerved by the arrival of these health ambassadors. I mean…maybe they could help the neighborhood get back on track. Quarantine had really taken its toll on the midsection and hind quarters of just about everyone in Saddle Downs. Working from home was awesome, but the cafeteria choices were endless now. Eating had become a sport for me by that point. I figured I could try and get on board. It was just a bunch of over-zealous kids, right? “Well Allen, I suppose all of us could use some guidance right now…and maybe they’ve got some techniques to help us avoid Covid, right?” “Oh, most definitely brad. Most definitely. You’ll see.” That was enough for me for the moment. As I started back to my own yard, I turned back and asked Allen how he got involved with these people. “I met them on the Internet playing an ORPG game called Second Life!” I had no idea what that was, but the answer was good enough for me. I cruised back over to the house, figuring Karen had my kale shake ready to go, along with a little avocado and falafel on toast that would likely NOT hit the spot. As the day wore on, I kept an eye on things out on the streets of Saddle Downs. The Lifers, as I’ll refer to them, were going door-to-door with their flyers. Some successfully gained entry to make what I presumed was their sales pitch, while others maintained that huge smile and boundless enthusiasm after being turned away at the door. They did, however, leave a small yellow sticker on the mailbox on the way out. Allen continued to exercise, with one of the Zip-Life zealots cheering him on. Eventually a couple of them were on my doorstep. Ugh. It was the first time I had seen any of them up close, and the only way I can describe them accurately is to say… They dazzled. The startlingly attractive young man and woman before me had perfectly straight, shockingly white teeth. Their aroma was fantastic, like some perfect blend of sugar cookies and Tide Pods. Clean, and sweet. It was intoxicating. Their eyes were big, bright and full of life, reminding me of those things that endlessly swirl and put you into a daze while the hypnotist snatches your wallet. The whites were white enough to make me squint, and their irises were vivid in color and matched their track suits. The young man’s orange irises didn’t have that fake look you see with color contacts, either. I think they were legit, which for a split second sent a chill down my spine. As the young man began his pitch, perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth opened to a mouth that said “Hello sir! I’m Tanner and this is Kylee. We’re friends of your neighbor, Allen Randall, and are representatives of the world’s number one door-to-door health and wellness company, Zip-Life Holistics!” I have no idea what he said after that. All I remember is smiling dreamily, looking back and forth between their mesmerizing eyes, skin that appeared to have disco balls embedded in its pores, and feeling compelled to only breathe through my nose. I found my feet shifting below me as I pushed open the storm door and welcomed them into my home. Floating in sheer ecstasy, I led them to the couch, where they sat down and produced a flyer for me to read. At that moment, all I could think of was how much I wanted to please these strangers. How I would do absolutely anything for Taylor and Kylee. Yes, I’ll sign those forms. Yes, I’ll be ready at 10pm on Friday. Sure, I’ll be eating nothing but raw, organic foods until then. I’ll do everything just as you wish. I just want to be well, for YOU. Thank you for saving me.” Thank God for Karen. She had been in the Kitchen, live streaming one of her “Super Coupon” videos (she has 152 subscribers…not too shabby, right?) and hadn’t noticed Tanner and Kylee’s entrance until the smell hit her. “Who’s here? That’s not Gain. That’s Tide. That shit is expensive! Someone needs a coupon lesson!” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me starting to sign papers. “Don’t you sign anything Brad! They’re probably gonna hit your credit card for a hundred bucks a month or something.” “You kids skedaddle. Didn’t you see the magnet on my car? I blend ESSENTIAL OILS. Do you know what that means? It means get the heck out of my house with your worthless pills, or whatever other malarkey you’re peddling. It ain’t happenin’! Not on my watch!” The two beautiful, amazing smelling Lifers smiled, thanked me for my time, and gave Karen a little death stare as they made for the door. Karen followed them into the yard, yelling the whole way. “Don’t you make a face at me! I’ve got your leaflet in the house and don’t you think for a second that I won’t call your manager about these shady tactics you’re using!” I exhaled sharply and ran my hands across my face to wake up a bit. When I looked back up they were gone…and one of those little yellow stickers adorned our mailbox. Karen gave me a bit of a scolding after she came back inside, but I did deserve it. It didn’t last too long, though, because she had to get to work on a big batch of potato salad to take to a party at my office. Those people love her recipe. The rest of the Lifers eventually congregated back at Allen’s house. It looked like they were camping in the back yard, which is probably why Allen had that absurdly high fence installed. Around 7pm, things got…weird. Firstly, there was more cheering. After the noise subsided I could hear a lot of grunting and groaning, and eventually curiosity got the best of me. I grabbed a ladder and made my way up to the roof. Our houses are more diagonally lined up, so with a bit of height I got a pretty clear view of Allen’s back yard. It looked like they were performing feats of strength. Some of them began picking up landscaping rocks the size of watermelons, followed by each taking a turn throwing theirs across the yard as far as possible. The best throw was about 15 feet, which was REALLY far for a rock that I would guess weighs around 200lbs. The winner? Kylee, all 5’2 and 120lbs of her. After that, some of the men locked arms and legs, building upon each other for some kind of creation. Bodies twisted and contorted, eventually taking the shape of a wheel…complete with human spokes. One of the women gave them a push, and off they went, rolling across the yard. It was an impressive feat of strength and flexibility…and just a touch unsettling. The wheel made it back around the yard, and several more of the men stood on others’ shoulders on both sides of the “wheel,” eventually revealing themselves to be posts. The entire contraption together became a freaky Ferris wheel. Someone gave it a push, and off it went, slowly rotating on an axis made of the backs of their brethren. That was both mesmerizing AND freaky, but a big group of the women, however, really pushed the envelope. The men began to chant. DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! It took a few minutes for it all to come together, but after everyone was in position I was looking at all 20 of the women bent into impossible positions and exercising body control that would require the strength of a herd of elephants. Arms bent backward, shoulders dislocated and twisted in ways that would paralyze any normal person. I felt bile rise in my throat, even viewing it from over 100 feet away. All the disgusting contortions came together, and suddenly I was looking at a 10 foot tall spider with the entire body and 8 legs made of people who should have been dead from their positioning alone. And it wasn’t unstable. It wasn’t about to collapse like one of those shitty popsicle stick houses we made in kindergarten. Had it not been so terrifying, it would have been nothing short of magnificent. And then that spider WALKED… And then it RAN… Their bodies were in perfect harmony as “it” ran across the back yard. More chanting. “SPI-DER! SPI-DER! SPI-DER! SPI-DER!” Continuing to run with absolute accuracy, they began to emit a clicking sound that I can only describe as “how a spider sounds in a movie.” “TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A! TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A TICK-A” My skin was crawling at this point. Then, as if the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre and terrifying, I watched as that human spider crawled right up the back wall of Allen’s three story house and onto the roof. And when it stopped I realized that before it crawled up the house, several of the men had jumped on and stacked themselves close on the front of the spider body. Their heads were packed tightly together, and their eyes became the spider’s eyes. And they blinked in unison. Then it shifted a bit. The legs, the body, and those eyes, rotating around while a few dozen mouths emitted that “tick-a tick-a tick-a” sound. In a side profile stance, facing off in the distance it stood. It felt as if everything around me had gone silent. This wasn’t just funny, or creepy anymore. It was downright scary. And as I soaked it all in and began to wonder what the hell I was really witnessing, I watched, horrified as every Lifer on that hideous creation turned their head toward me. And they smiled… ************************************************************************************* I slept like absolute shit that night. After the spider spent a few minutes twitching around on the roof and looking at me, it/they crawled back down to the yard and disassembled. Eventually everyone settled down and I didn’t hear anything else until early morning when the daily cheering began again. I must admit, the spider really scared me. When I said those girls got into impossible positions I was NOT exaggerating. I was looking at fully dislocated shoulders and hips, spines twisted up like paper clips, and heads that twisted completely around. These were not normal people. This routine continued for the rest of the week. -Wake up and cheer -Work the neighborhood -Cheer some more -Do weird shit in the back yard until dark, including but not limited to -Relay races (on their hands) -Professional-style wrestling (without padding) -Duck, Duck, Goose and Red Rover (with tackling) -Forming a human snake 50 feet long and slithering around the house for 45 straight minutes, with everyone making a “sssssssssssssssssssssss” sound and flicking their tongues. Then every few minutes coiling up and striking at imaginary things. They did try to make their pitch to us once each day, becoming more persistent as the week progressed, but Karen always shooed them off. On their Friday afternoon visit she even sprayed them with lavender oil. Tanner looked PISSED about it, too. As the days wore on, though, I noticed the little yellow stickers eventually being removed, and figured my weak minded neighbors were finally giving in and agreeing to the presentation. Not Karen, though. She’s hardcore about this kind of thing. Four days into this adventure, I noticed something. I had never seen them eating, drinking, or going into the house to use the bathroom. I did see twice a day they were given a shot glass worth of some kind of liquid, which I presumed was whatever product they must be selling Despite it all, the neighborhood was still running normally. People came and went, cars were washed, and dogs were walked. Mrs. Bush down the street was in her front yard, drunk and arguing with her adult son, who was also drunk, about his chronic unemployment and wasting his government money on “cheap women.” Friday night, Karen and I were sipping some of our favorite craft beer on the porch when we noticed an abnormally large number of people heading down the street. I recognized some of the faces and others were foreign to me, but they all turned in to Allen’s driveway and formed a line that extended a ways down the street. I suddenly recalled something on Tanner and Kylee’s pamphlet about “being there” on Friday at 10pm. A quick check of my watch confirmed that it was, in-fact, 10pm. Now I was REALLY interested to see what was going down. I moved from the porch to the living room to watch one of these quarantine MLB games, which was almost as weird as watching the Lifers do their thing. I kept a constant eye on the goings-on at Allen’s though and as the evening wore on the traffic really picked up. For hours I sat there watching neighbors get in line, looking completely happy and relaxed—no doubt enjoying the Scent of sugar cookies and eye candy the Lifers provided—waiting their turn to go behind the gate. Several of the Lifers looked to almost be standing guard there, with more standing along the street in front of the house. All night long, the cycle was the same. -Person goes through the gate on one side of the house, followed by a few minutes of silence. -Horrific screaming, followed by the Lifers clapping and cheering. -Then the person shuffled out of the gate on the other side of the house, and very slowly shuffled home. By 2am, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get a look behind that house again, even if it WAS a shitty angle. I was headed for the roof again. I grabbed my ladder and began my ascent. As I reached the top rung and my head cleared the roof line, I heard a voice coming from below—accompanied by the very faint smell of sugar cookies. It was Tanner. “Hey Brad! Whatcha doin’ up there?” He gave the ladder a little shake. “I don’t think it’s safe to be up on the roof this late. Why don’t you come on down and go back in the house? Kylee said Karen looks pretty lonely in the bed.” They were watching Karen sleep?? Now I was angry. I felt a surge of adrenaline, and it was finally time to tell this asshole what I really thought of him and his stupid Lifer friends. “Tanner, why don’t YOU get the FUCK out of my yard and go back to your weird-ass cult across the street before I call the cops!” Tanner chuckled and said “Braaaaaaad. YOUR NEIGHBOR, the chief of police is in line at Allen’s right this minute. You know that.” And then he literally jumped straight up the 30 feet to my roof. Tanner crouched directly in front of me, grabbed my ladder and tipped me a foot back from the edge, literally holding my life in his right hand. His orange eyes glowed like two big fireflies in the darkness. “Brad. Everything is fine over there. It would REALLY be in your best interest to climb back down this VERY unstable ladder and get “the FUCK” back in your house.” I nodded, scared shitless. My adrenaline surged again as I gripped that ladder with every ounce of strength I had. There was no exit plan here if he let me go, and I am not ashamed to admit that I wet my pants. “Ok, Tanner. I’ll go back inside. Please, PLEASE move my ladder back and let me climb down.” And just like that, he returned the ladder to a safe angle, got in a high-dive position and did a gainer off the roof, landing perfectly on his feet. When I stepped off, he was directly in my face. He did NOT smell like cookies and Tide now. He smelled musty, like an old museum. The glimmer in his skin came and went like static on a TV, and his eyes no longer dazzled. He looked tired, as if he’d used up every ounce of his normally boundless energy. That’s the last thing I remember. I woke up on the couch around 7:00. My drool-covered shirt was turned halfway around my torso and one of my socks was missing in action. I felt absolutely awful. Every muscle ached to some degree and my feet felt like they were made of lead. I was completely exhausted, and my back felt like it was on fire. I made it to the kitchen and tried to get my head together. Out of nowhere, I was suddenly ready to MURDER someone for some bacon…or sausage…or a bagel with Lox…or some Lay’s potato chips…or a big glass of sea water. I threw my middle finger in the air and turned in a circle to let ALL the components of Karen’s stupid plant-based diet know what I thought of them. Dr. Ornish could eat a dick…actually I guess he wouldn’t, though. I practically DRAGGED myself to the window to see what the Lifers were up to. They were gone. I was startled as Karen emerged from the hallway, tripped, and fell flat on her face, sending half a dozen essential oil vials flying across the room. I was too tired to even try to help her up. Groaning, she pushed herself up on her elbows. “What the hell happened last night, Brad? The last thing I remember is that Kylee girl standing beside my bed speaking in another language. There were bits of English mixed in there. She said something like ‘we are ancient…older than death himself…’ and then something about cows and pigs no longer being sufficient?” I looked at her like she had three eyes. Not only was I in tremendous pain…I was feeling a little combative. “What? Are you drunk? Did you put too much lemongrass and ylang-ylang in your tea again last night??” When Karen is pissed, her voice gets really nasal and her A’s are literally enough to bust eardrums. After my smartass comment, I really had it coming, though. “NOOOOOOO BRAAAAD! She said it! She said that shit, and the last thing of it I recall is her rolling me over onto my stomach and saying “Thanks bitch. I’ll fill you back up with Marjoram.” She had managed to stand again, but doubled over in pain and hit the floor once more. “Ughhhhhh…Damn-it Brad, why does my back hurt SOOOOO BAAAAD???” I looked down at her exposed back. It was swollen and red, and she had a tiny hole or needle mark just above each kidney. I had the same. What the heck was up there? Trying to look at my own back, I began turning in circles like a dog trying to sniff its own butt. “Karen, look at these holes in my back. What’s in that spot?” She had spent a few years in nursing school back in the day before quitting to sell door-to-door cosmetics, and god only knows what other flavor of the week MLMs that came about. She thought about it for a moment. “I think it’s the adrenal gland. What the…did they steal our adrenaline???!!! I helped Karen to her feet, we plopped ourselves down at the kitchen table, and I blacked out. ************************************************************************************* Three hours later I woke up, my cheek smashed down on the table. Surrounding me was remnants of a bag of beef jerky, a jar of pickles with no juice, and my mouth was caked in what tasted like feta cheese. Karen was on the floor, blocking the doorway threshold and mumbling something in her sleep about not needing a receipt. Peeking out from under the edge of her robe was what was left of the block of feta. I shuffled my way to the bathroom, stripped off my disheveled and urine stained clothes, and let a hot shower take me away to paradise. God I was thirsty. Karen says the chlorine and fluoride in city water is bad for me, but I didn’t care. I drank it right out of the faucet. After getting cleaned up, I stepped out on the patio for some fresh air. Many of my neighbors were out and about, moving like they were 100 years old but trying to do the normal stuff--taking walks, washing cars, etc. I gingerly made my way next door to speak with my buddy Mike. He had been out of town most of the week, but I saw him in line last night. I caught up to him as he was checking his mail. “Yo Mike. How’s it going?” He looked terrible. “Hey Brad. Man I feel like complete shit. I don’t know what the hell happened to me last night. I haven’t felt this bad since I got completely plastered at your Super bowl party.” I vividly remember that event. Mike, the 50 year old accountant, attempted a backflip on a dare and landed on his face. I looked at him quizzically. “You mean you don’t remember being at Allen’s? Going behind the fence for the Zip-Life product demonstration?” He closed the mailbox and looked back up at me. “The what? Zip Who? I haven’t spoken with Allen in months. I’d like to kiss him right on the mouth though, for finally cleaning up his property. I wish I had been here to see it. Damn, dude. My back is killing me!” He turned and raised his shirt, and sure enough… the same swelling and holes in his back. I told him what I suspected had happened to us, but he had absolutely no recollection of the Lifers ever having set foot in Saddle Downs. I was too tired to press the issue, and Mike didn’t seem to care about the holes in his back. It’s like his memory and even his sense of self-preservation was just…absent. I ended the conversation and made my way a couple houses down, intercepting a lady named Sandra as she VERY slowly made her way through the morning walk she’s taken every single day for 23 years. We had the same conversation. She had the same marks, and like Mike, had no memory of the night before. I tried several others and got more of the same. Finally I headed for Allen’s house, banging HARD on the door. When he answered, it was clear that I had woken him up. He was wearing nothing but a pair of old, very undersized boxers. “Uhhh…hey Brad. What’s up?” “Allen, I’ve had enough of this shit. What the hell did those people do to everyone last night??” He looked completely confused. “What? What are you talking about? Who?” I roared with every ounce of strength I had left. “THE ZIP-LIFE PEOPLE, ALLEN! THEY JACKED EVERYONE UP! WE ALL HAVE HOLES ABOVE OUR KIDNEYS AND NO ONE KNOWS WHY! I’M THE ONLY ONE THAT EVEN REMEMBERS THEM BEING HERE!” All of a sudden it was like the light bulb went off. Allen’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. I exhaled sharply, relieved that SOMEONE could finally shed some light on all of this. Allen jumped through the door, darting back and forth across the porch, giving evil stares to everyone he could see. As he flew by me for the third time I caught a look at his shirtless back… There was nothing. No holes. No swelling. Just a nice, plump back with enough hair on it to sculpt a mowhawk. And as he ran out into the street with murder in his eyes, naked aside from the underwear hanging halfway down his ass, I knew the story had ended. I wasn’t going to get my answer, because I knew what the next words out of his mouth would be. Wild-eyed, and practically foaming at the mouth with rage, he said… “WHICH ONE OF YOU ASSHOLES CLEANED UP MY YARD!” My favorite neighbor
> “The meat was incredibly succulent, not dry at all (which I was concerned about with the grilling, but he assured me they kept their moisture better than chickens as they live in the water much of the time). The taste was close to chicken or tu... They often perform their mating displays together, like this flamingo flamenco. However, different species and even different flocks will put a slightly different spin on their communal rituals. I think the Flamingo smell is vanilla. I like the smell at Mirage - it does smell like suntan lotion. On the other hand, the smell at the Venetian is too overpowering and makes my eyes water if I'm in there for more than a few minutes. Once, at a party we were introduced to a woman and my husband's first words were "wow, you smell like the Venetian". Why don't libraries smell like bookstores? Asked By Veronica Wilkinson. Previously Viewed. clear. Why does a flamingo smell? Asked By Wiki User. Unanswered Questions. Is Ashley Biden gay? Like most birds, flamingos have well-developed color perception. In zoological settings, flamingos recognize their uniformed keepers among visitors. Tactile. Tactile organs on the tongue can be used to ensure that only food is ingested. Taste. The sense of taste is poorly developed in birds. Smell. Flamingos have little or no sense of smell. The smell was like rancid coppertone in there! Never heard anyone mention this, but I think the Flamingo smells way worse than the Venetian, and I always hear complaints about that hotel's odor... Report inappropriate content. 21-30 of 35 replies. Interesting Facts About Flamingos That’ll Take Your Breath Away. The flamingo is a large wading bird with shades of pink and scarlet plumage. There are many interesting facts about flamingos, including the fact that its eye is actually larger than its brain! The pink, orange, or red color of a flamingo's feathers is caused by carotenoid pigments in their food, the same pigments that make tomatoes red and carrots orange. A wild flamingo's diet includes shrimp, plankton, algae, and crustaceans skimmed from different water sources. A flamingo submerges its head upside down, allowing its bent upper bill, with its curtain of comblike filaments, to serve as scoop and colander, all abetted by its formidable machine tool of a tongue. We asked eight candle-obsessed people for the ones they’re burning in their home, including Maison Louis Marie No.03 L’Étang Noir, Malin + Goetz Dark Rum, Boy Smells Kush, and Malin + Goetz ...
Ignore the water in the background. This is what a platypus really sounds like. Scientific proof Pixar sits on a throne of lies. Thanks to Bose for their support and for the dopest headphones I've ever worn: https://bose.life/markroberA... Flamingo is a Roblox YouTuber, and here are the TOP 10 SECRETS You Didn't Know About Him! Flyborg is your hub for all things Roblox! Make sure to check out o... SUBSCRIBE for More Film Theories! http://bit.ly/1dI8VBH Here's a question - can you TASTE a liar? The anime Jojo's Bizarre Adventure sure seems to thin... Spoiler alert - it's a really adorable squeak.Visit SlothWeek.com for more! http://www.slothweek.com This video explains what this channel is all about! Make sure to SUBSCRIBE if any of this sounds good to you! Fortnite - Fortnite Aimbot- aimbot on fortnite. In this Fortnite aimbot video i hit aimbot snipes almost like i had aimbot on fortnite! fortnite aimbot makes... Don't like this video? ... Julie tells us what she think of Dried Flamingo. I try on pants for CVX Live event and smell each others feet. It doesn't get much better than that! I was at the San Diego Zoo when I saw a flamingo that obviously has no idea how flamingoes are supposed to sit. https://represent.com/flamingoToday I take a trip down memory lane with Roblox... been playing for 11 and a half years so yeah hehe
