Saturday, April 24, 2010

The Little Lady of Hell House






So I’d like to delve into the case of the mysterious Little Lady of Hell House.

I’m getting over a case of some sort of bad chest infection or flu or H1N1 or some other sort of dreadful thing (which for whatever reasons, caused me to be on 4 prescribed meds). We had a really rough week, as we had an office move from one building to another, so I had to keep going into work; which also meant a good deal of physical labor. Physically I haven’t been up to par yet since surgery and still have to limit my activity. By the time I would get home in the evenings, I was pretty much comatose. (I say all this to give a full background of the mystery.)

With the stress of the move, and being sick, and being in Hell House in general, my sleep was for naught. So the other night, feeling on the verge of just shutting down completely, I figured I would take an Ambien and force sleep upon me.

I imagine that right now my reader(s) is/are going to chalk all of this up to that little white pill. I guess that would be the easy way to go. However, bear with me on this, and recognize my analytical cognizance for what it is.

Before going to bed that night, I started to fall asleep on the couch, however (and this is sort of backwards from what I recall, vs. the order in which things played out) I typed the following in the midst of some writing that I had been doing: “…I’m just one slip in to sloeep, but imm’ still wring this ,but it feels like I’m on another plane. Strange . like the lam p next to me wat just a real still sort of small lady… just standing there. I was sure of it…”

I’ll reiterate here that I didn’t find what I had written until the following day, and had no recollection of it. (And, NO, I had not been drinking, smoking or taking in anything other than the Ambien!)

At shortly after 2:00 a.m., I woke up. I was quite aware of everything and was angered that the Ambien had started to wear off. I could tell that I would be restless for awhile in attempting to try to get back to sleep, and probably have to put the TV on. I got up and retrieved a glass from my dresser (which I placed there upon going to bed) and got a drink of water from the sink. I recalled placing the glass on the sink and even debating upon its placement there, as I usually will not reuse any glass situated in a bathroom once it is placed down on the surface of the counter. I didn’t think I would need another drink that evening (which would have meant a walk to the kitchen for a new glass, or replacing the glass back on the dresser) so I set the glass down on the counter. (The glass was on the counter in the bathroom the next morning.)

I returned to bed and recall rubbing my feet together 4 times each to make sure no debris follow them into the “foot area” of the sheets. Nothing worse than that feeling of, like, a single crumb or something down there among your feet, and having to go after it and removing it, and then having to search the entire area for any other remnant.

I lay down and felt like it would take awhile to fall asleep, so I laid on my back and sandwiched my head between two pillows; the top one just covering my eyes basically.

Within several minutes I became aware that someone was next to the bed and within seconds of that, the young female had lain down in bed next to me. I scooted over some and rolled over onto my side away from the young lady, making sure she had room and not wanting to invade her space.

I contemplated this after rolling over, and reasoned what was happening. It was not scary. Though I wondered why it wasn’t. I contemplated that I was in the midst of a dream and analyzed that factor for awhile, and came up with the conclusion that I wasn’t asleep or dreaming. This in and of itself was difficult, as my dreams are such that it is not uncommon to have a large amount of control and an ability to think.

So it is here that I also place that element of doubt that may be present. However, usually when in any thought process within my dreams, I also have the ability to recognize that it is a dream and then continue to interact in kind (at least as long as possible. The more control I take within the dream, the more the percentage of becoming fully awake increases.)

I did not physically see anything at any time when the lady entered the bed. I only felt her lie down, and heard the whisper of the bed itself. She did not talk or communicate in any way audible, but I felt everything was ok.

After that I told myself I really needed to try and sleep because my body was wearing out. I also debated falling asleep with this lady next to me, and contemplated getting up to turn the light on and probably just end up scaring away this phantom anomaly. I decided to let things ride out and allowed myself to go back to sleep.

Nothing was present upon my waking the next morning, but I recalled the events that occurred earlier, in explicit order and detail. It was also later that morning that I discovered my writing mentioned previously.

So, though long-winded here. You’ll have to make your own call.

I think I just had an encounter with the Little Lady of Hell House, and she means no harm.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Facebuke of me...

If the throngs of you out there that follow my pathetic life are wondering what happened to my facebuke acct. ... It's gone.

Evidently some fuck attempted to hack it the evening of 04/14/2010 and gain access by trying to finagle a password change. SO... not that it had anything on it anyway... It's history.

The faithful may still follow my (and often my family's) antics here.

Its actually a good omen...
I had a case today (in court) where I was meeting w. the asst. PA and complainant and had to endure a 10 minute conversation about shit they had on their Facebuke and their associations with others in they Keyser area. (I left the room after about 1/2 minute... so I'm just guessing they kept up the theme as I reentered to get the asst. PA to come into the court room, they were still going at it.)

So people... as previously suspected... FACEBUKE = KNUCKLEHEADS w. nothing else better to do.

and if the FUCK-NUT who attempted (rather feebly) to hack my FACEBUKE acct. is a follower of my blog. Then shame on ya. Hope ya' die alone, spittin' blood. (Though I think that would actually be pretty cool to experience.)

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Back the 3 1 1

Chill with indica and guiness,
Steer clear of white powder
Kick it you sing it in a space,
Go out to play it louder

Plague my brain with no cocaine
I don't wanna, I don't wanna go insane

Roll up the bones if you can affix a word to smoke it
Except for you're doomed in the morning if you bake the hills
Oh and I get up to the sun and then I smoke out
It's begining to smell like Mota and I'm down with no doubt, sing

Plague my brain with no cocaine
I don't wanna, I don't wanna go insane

Every country 'round the world,
The people smoke the herb,
Prohibition is absurd
The people want it

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Mushrooms.... Know what you're getting into.

What I learned today.

When your buddy explains how you should go out into your property of hundreds of acres and search for mushrooms:
1. He is probably being serious.
2. If you're from the city, remember number 1 when you try calling him from your cell phone when you get lost in the hundreds of acres.
3. You won't be finding anything.

Such was my early evening after work today.

My instructions: Just head out into the woods just to the right of your house and look under all the Poplar trees... they're the tall ones with green on top.

So off I went. Couple beers in my pocket, I thought I'd surprise him with a neat ... allotment of the things (whatever a nice grouping of shrooms are called).

I soon realized that ... there were a LOT of tall trees that had green shit on the top; and thus further realized I didn't know what the fuck a Poplar was!

Working my way over several ridges in an easterly direction, and summarily getting lost, I first called my secretary to inquire if John (my Chief Deputy/boss) was sending me on some sort of snipe hunt. After her laughing was completed she advised that he wasn't kidding and with the assistance of her mate, actually instructed me to further my search.

After probing deeper into the forest, I started to think it was a conspiracy, and put a call to John's cell phone; basically border-line cussing him out for managing to have me lost on what I thought was still my own property. At this point I had no idea.

I managed to find an interesting stream though in the interim.

After another call to Carolyn, I saw where the sun was setting and headed back in that direction in the hopes of finding the house. Upon topping one ridge, I noticed the fields used by those fucking cows that I recalled the snow falling upon this winter and made for that location. Within a half hour of reaching the green fields, I saw where the fucking house was.

In conclusion:

Fuck mushrooms.

Just like fucking steak.... The goddamn store works fine for my ass!

Monday, April 5, 2010

The Dead Thing In My Basement Hole I Met Last Night

I managed to be situated in an old basement type area of some sort of vast ancient catacomb of sorts. There was an entry hole into an even darker area where perhaps evilness was afoot. Whatever was going on inside of this deeper, darker hole, it did not radiate goodness. Inside was a demon being of sorts. One of a limited intelligence would say the devil dwelled inside of this hole, but that was too easy.

I leaned inside and felt the dark, scary, unfamiliar evilness of the creature within. It held no form, and spoke or communicated no language familiar to me, and my first reaction was to retreat , nay, commence into a full route away form whatever this nightmare was turning into.

The entity spoke or communicated but just remained within this deep, dry, dead room in silence among old bricks. Old red bricks. Dim, dead, red bricks. He communicated to interact with him and I was drawn. So I did interact and the more I did, the more I understood what this demon was communicating unto me. I interacted with him, and the piles of dusty old bricks and mortar that he dwelled within, cleared more and more. He was undead for sure. He was nothing pleasant, and was pure horror that dwells in the deepest of a common person’s nightmares. I continued to interact with this dead being, and the more interaction that took place, the more he became known unto my intelligence.

This dead being did not attempt a relationship of any sort, but interacted just as a dead demon would. He created before me slight, and pitiful living beings and beasts; akin to dogs they were, but misshapen and disturbed. The dead one found no mirth in this, but the created creatures were nothing more than a byproduct of his ongoing death in this decaying and aged alcove where he existed. Some of the creatures approached and seeked love and friendship, but only to turn around and belch forth the overpowering feeling of death that the demon creature himself exhumed, lying among his rotting section of buried and forgotten catacomb. His presence there was to remain of the dead and rotted menace that he was and nothing more.

He could communicate if you reached your mind into it. He would range from nothing more than a long dead, decaying body with no life, to a semblance of something demonic, almost satanic in mirth if you tried to interact with him among his bricks and stone.

He’s there any time you want to visit him.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

heh...

Smells Like Da' Ocean, etc. ...

Fuck you all.

Easter Time... WHITE NOISE is all...



Easter time is here. Celebrate.
Celebration at Hell House! Its in full bloom, baby! FULL FUCKING BLOOM!!!

The first (hope to gods ONLY) annual Hell House Easter Festivity Festival has begun!!!

It started with the commencement of the laundry-at-an-earlier-than-usual-time! (See, that would be because the Snow-boyz had an earlier than anticipated departure..... and THAT's a whole nutha' story folks.)

BUT... This is all about the Hell House Easter Festivity Festival! So let's get on with it!

The garage was emptied, scrubbed, hosed and cleaned. Unfortunately the various items that I was hoping to be of service during the upcoming months will not be of much use. What appeared to be a really neat looking riding lawn mower ended up being in a state of such uninstallation-of-parts that I will be donating it to the John Alkire collection of stuff he manages to find uses for.

The garage is clean though.

As the day progressed, the music became louder, the post-operation drinks started flowing, and I found an old wash tub of sorts. The louder the music became, and the more post-operative drinks flowed, the more the tub looked interesting. So after the scrubbing of the garage, the scrubbing of the tub commenced.

Now a side note here... As I retrieved another post-operative beverage and one of my most favorite songs "Perfect Water" (by Blue Oyster Cult) came on, I realized that Dionysus (my parrot) did not seem to understand my same over-the-top enjoyment of the song, and became confused by my added lyrics and inflections.

After the tub-scrub, came the tub painting. Twas primed and painted. At this moment it sits content in a quiet corner of the garage next to the most perfect of unmarked police cruisers you will ever see, drying in complete solace and peace. PLEASE.... REPEAT.... "TWO TEARS IN A BUCKET..... MOTHER FUCK IT!!!!"

For awhile, after the work of the day was done, I sat upon the edge of my deck and sipped more post-operative beverages while sucking in the succulent sounds of Frank Zappa when I realized I was now hanging over a rather high edge and it did take but a small amount of concentration to remove myself from such a chosen perch.

As Confessor started belting out some much needed angst filled tunes, I tore into some Easter flowers and shoved them into a vase; thus placing them upon my kitchen table dais among my monkeys and Peeps. I probably won't eat the Peeps, as they've been there for awhile now, and I think I'll just keep them there.

So there you have the celebration thus far.

I hope to soon put on some Sepultura and increase the level of celebration here at Hell House.

A side note to HeStillH8Sidney... I have a brand new outdoor grill for you! I can't believe I found it... No shit! Next time you're up... You're in tall mother-fucking cotton, my boy. Remember... I FEEL LIKE SHIT DE JA VU!!!!!! .... And when I feel like shit... I FEEL LIKE SHIT!!!!!!!!

ROCK ON YOU EASTER FUCKERS!!!!!!!!

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Ahrens, Richard Toms River, NJ: Calling Out

Hey buddy. Where are you? Its been too long man.

I hear you're in Florida somewhere. Figure we need to make some peace and some closure.

Richard Ahrens, a relative from NJ is looking for you. For closure. It'll be a hoot! We can talk about old times!

Respond.

Come on buddy. Its Easter! (chuckle)... You got immunity! (shit coming outta my nose)

Easter Time! YEAH! Celebrate! The happy bunny!

It's Easter time. Everyone all happy?! YAE!!!! Its a beautiful weekend too! Thank you Lord for the beautiful weekend! See, its because we all know you did it for us! So we know we're even more loved then before!
Remember all that down time shit you were all going through? Rought times, maybe even still are? Hating life. Wishing you didn't have to even COPE with life? See? Its all better now! Cause its EASTER TIME!!!! Its another one of those holidays that come around where Christ does shit for us and makes all the goofy shit we did in the mean-time ok! I (wish I) LOVE(d) THIS RELIGION!!! You can do anything in it! If you're powerful enough (and everyone in it, IS), then you can even have shit changed OVER to make shit better for you! Dudes.... Christianity... Catholisism.... Come on... Its where its at. You all know it. They did this shit right! New, modern, better... Christianity. Where we're sorry we killed ya, and even more sorry we're gonna be ridin' to glory on the Lord God's ass right after we do it!!! Fuckin' A!!! I'm totally down with that. Just gotta remember to do all that shit in HIS name, and not, like , in the name of Shamee The Butcher down the road's name. You go doing that shit; you're gonna get Shamee in all sorts of shit himself.
Anyway, I'm side-tracking here. I'm busy celebrating Easter!
Bunnies and eggs and shit.
Remember, if you got a beef with an ass down the street that you wanna, oh,... kill... just be sure to think of him as a lamb (as you kill him of course) and ... I dunno... maybe eat some of his ass. It might make things go farther with the Father God dude in a long run. I figure his son would be down with it, saying shit like, "OHHH! DAD! DAMN!!! That dude is eatin' that guy's ass he just shot and calling him one of your lambs!!! OH! I GOTS to have me some of that power! That is just sick as shit Dad of the Almighty Dads!!!"

So this Easter.... I want you to remember what its all about. Lets keep it real:

Be thankful that you can get away and rationalize any shit you want and be fucking blessed for it.

Be thankful that you can smoke some stupid fuck that has it coming to him and still get your ass hauled up to have a seat next to the almighty (though I'm pretty sure you gotta wait in some kind of line siminlar to pickin' up free cheese-cakes they give out at a casino promotional).

Be thankful for all those fucked up, trippin rabbits shitting multi-colored eggs all over your fuckin yard! How often does that shit happen?


Now, you all go make nicey-nice with you families. Jesus Love You. (Just haven't figured out why yet, but I'm workin' on it.)