(An A to Z 2013 Challenge Entry)
“Y” was a bit of a challenge for me, for some reason. So this may be a bit different compared to my other, more direct, entries. The topic is “You” for this letter of the challenge. “You” not you. I don’t know you well enough to talk about the lot of ya. I’ll be talking about some various topics, each highlighted by a heading incorporating “You” used in a phrase I’ve recently used.
Sounds odd, but I’ve seen some odd “cheats” used during the A to Z Challenge, so I feel like this isn’t exactly breaking the mold.
You’re Number One
This weekend was a fun one, filled with good friends and good times. My beard was assaulted, my beard was defended, my beard lives on. I actually had a few drinks. Now, technically I stopped drinking back on NYE in 05/06, but since then I’ve had a drink (glass of wine or a cider) here or there — far and few in between.
A lot of this weekend reminded me of the olden days when I was younger; growing up and trudging through high school in a small town. A lot of times the only form of entertainment was getting drunk (or worse) — That may not be entirely true, but good luck convincing my angsty teenage version that! — hanging out with friends, taking road trips, and random shenanigans. It was nostalgic.
While on a late night walk (just after midnight) with a handful of friends — 5 in all — Saturday evening, we had an interesting time. One friend, we nicknamed her “Grandma”, had hurt her toe earlier in the day, which lead to some funny comments being made.
“Uh oh, Grandma is at it again.” “Uh oh, Grandma is in the shed again. That isn’t the house, we are up here, Grandma.” - I don’t think she was aware of most of these comments, which made it all the better!
So “Grandma” wasn’t walking so much as hobbling along.
Anyway, on this late night walk up to a local establishment for supplies, we came across a house for sale (recently sold) that a member of our group said they liked, wanted, and noted their room would be in the attic (or third floor possibly?). Basically, the creepiest point in the house which is — always — blatantly recognizable by the window associated with said rooms in almost every single house in existence.
After pointing out the folly of her judgment with how hot the room would be in the Summer, someone had looked into the window and noticed a painting in the living room. The painting was of two children (or one child and a baby, or both babies and one was standing, the other sitting?) in one of those creepy tall portrait styles. It looked like an old picture, but with that style (possibly made to look old) it’s sometimes hard to tell.
They had dark, black eyes and looked unnatural. Everyone was curious why someone would have such a creepy picture out in their living room. I thought I saw a chair facing it, as well. They would remember better than I. I was drunk as hell! Not really, I wasn’t even buzzed, but I was too focused on their dark eyes gazing back. Gave me the chills.
We continued to the local shop, the Dark Babies (sometimes referred to as the Dead Babies) being the conversation piece of choice. Once we finished up getting our supplies we went back the same path, awaiting the return to the house our friend no longer wished to occupy. This time we stood outside and examined the scene more intimately.
It was then I became curious of some other details before me. The window was the only one of the house with the curtain purposely drawn open. The lighting of the house was highlighting the picture of the Dark Babies. It was like... the owners wanted those who passed by to be able to gaze upon it.
And then the truth dawned on me. The window wasn’t opened for passers to gaze in... it was opened so that the Dark Babies could gaze out! OH SHIT! It was then I knew we were doomed. The picture actually ancient, and within it an ancient evil. The Dark Babies whose fate is unknown; cursed. Waiting for prey stupid enough to be lured into their dark soulless eyes; to enact revenge upon those still living. We were that prey!
I announced my findings and it was time to move on, and to get back home before it was too late. Then our friend, who had wanted the house originally, ended up almost tripping after stepping into a dip. The Dip of Death I called it. This marked her as Number One. The first to be affected by the Curse of the Dark Babies. The first to die!
“You’re Number One!” I panicked. Then I tried to explain how we were all doomed while talking to “Grandma” and I ran into a bush or tree or something (it felt like it had thorns on it) and I was jabbed in the arm and chest. I was officially marked as Number Two. I panicked more, I lamented, I knew my fate was sealed.
Once reaching the house again, “Grandma” while deftly attempting to avoid her own shoes placed in the middle of the floor, bumped her bad toe against my bag. The pain wracked through her and while I felt bad about my bag being in her path, all I could say in a saddened tone was, “You’re Number Three.”
Three of Five marked by the Curse of the Dark Babies.
The night came to a close, and I drove Number One home (afraid we would be a combo bonus pack for the curse — my car is becoming a deathtrap all on its own lately) and went back to my apartment. There were no evil babies, my cat was still in one piece, and I eventually got to sleep hours later.
The five of us are linked now by the Curse of the Dark Babies. One by one we will fall victim to their stare. I am grateful for any and all posts Number One makes on Facebook. It shows me she is alive, and If she is alive, I’m alive. She is Number One.
“Grandma” just told me tonight to Google: Black Eyed Children. She claims it is a short story. I think it’s a trap, either way. Number One said to avoid it! I will listen to her for now, I trust her. I hope she is safe. She is Number One.
But, I’m Number Two...
You’re Doing It Wrong
This phrase isn’t meant to be a negative one, but it can be taken as such. I just sometimes have an opinion that perhaps someone is doing something wrong; I would take a different approach. But, when it comes to art, who am I really to say? To each their own. A finished product’s beauty (like most things) lays in the eye of the beholder. I’m sure there will be (are) plenty feeling I am doing it wrong, as well. And that’s okay.
It isn’t like I said “It’s stupid” right? I mean... who does that... oh wait...
You Go To HELL, Candy Crush! You Go To HELL And You Die!
You Guys Suck!
So I came over to visit my brother, which I tend to do now after leaving my grandmother’s on Monday evenings, and they were watching Big Trouble in Little China! Rather, it was just finishing up, but still! I’ve been wanting to watch this again since a new blogging friend posted about “Jack Burton” in her “J” A to Z post.
I hope it’s on Netflix. I need to get on that! If you haven’t yet seen this movie, I highly recommend it!
This includes you, Number One, if you happen to be reading this!
If the Futile Five hope for any chance of survival, we are going to have to start getting serious.
You know what ol’ Jak Cryton always says at a time like this?
Ol’ Jak always says, “Oh My Nuts!”
Are you brave enough to Google: Black Eyed Children? Do you play Candy Crush? If so, do you get stuck on any specific levels? Have you seen Big Trouble in Little China? If not, you need to, ASAP!