Trip to Salem: Part 1 AND Scary Story Time #7: The Big Guns

Just this evening, on October 23rd, 2011 (Parents' 28th anniversary, by the way!), I got back home from a weekend away in Salem, Massachusetts with my girlfriend, my three sisters, two nephews, one niece, and friends. It was a hell of a trip.

I'll be honest with you, I did absolutely no research heading into the trip, and my only knowledge of the place was the obvious: The Salem Witch Trials took place there, and The Crucible was written about them. That's really about it. In my mind, I had created some sort of Colonial Williamsburg type place, with people in period clothing talking about witches and teaching you how to churn butter and shit. 

Fortunately, I'm an idiot. 

The place is totally witch obsessed, but in a way that there are statues and Halloween decorations everywhere, and even a legitimate honest-to-god graveyard is a novelty. There are PLENTY of Salem, MA shirts/mugs/jackets to buy with the silhouette of a witch on them. And while there are actual houses that are supposedly haunted (more later) there are also plenty of buy-a-ticket Haunted Houses filled with people dressed up like monsters and crap. I went through one with my niece Audrey, my nephew Kenny, and his buddy Mike. $7.00 each. Not bad. Let's do it.

You walk in, and it's nearly pitch black. And obviously the way in which it's scary is simply that people pop out from behind false-walls and scream at you. Simple. That being said, I reflexively went to brace myself a couple of times. More than that, I then reflexively tried to pretend I hadn't done that.

I am a nearly 25 year old man.

My favorite parts of the short "ride" included when we all turned right at a corner, into a hallway. I happened to look to the left as we turned, however, and could see a girl dressed like some bloody monster getting ready to scream at us. I calmly pointed at her, and jokingly commanded her, "don't scare me." she put her hands on her hips, annoyed. Then she got bored and walked away. Not too shabby. Later, some killer guy was ordered by his "master" via radio to kill us. He revved up a drill, and screamed at us. I quickly made peace with my time on earth and prepared to die. But the craziest thing happened!! He screamed more and told us to get out of his face. We survived! But surely his master is going to fire him.

Oh also, and my nephew Kenny told me that one of the crazy monster guys was yelling at him, and that when he (Kenny) reached out and touched something on the wall, the guy stopped yelling, and, sounding whiney, pleaded, "Hey, don't touch that."

Chilling.

We later went on a ghost tour hosted by a guy named Tim in a tri-cornered hat. He gave us an interesting bit of information about Nathaniel Hawthorne, some local landmarks and lore, and then an interesting bit of information about himself: He is both a medium and a psychic, and some nights he hosts ghost hunts. He then hand-chose my family and me to accompany him on such a ghost hunt that very night. We immediately signed up. 

At 11:00pm on October 22, 2011, the Rogers family made contact with a ghost.

To be continued.

Now, being that it's getting close to Halloween, I'm pulling out the big guns. Here is a scary story that I've always been a pretty big fan of. It's very odd, very creative, and very unsettling. Definitely not meant to be read by anyone who isn't feeling well, or anybody squeamish. But enjoy one of my favorite weird horror stories:

Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

Mail

It all started as a message in my mailbox one morning. Having my morning coffee and cigarette, I decided to walk out to the mailbox and check my mail. I had bought this house from an auction for a very low price. It was out in the quiet country. Me being a city kid, I had no idea what country life was like until I had made a few friends around the area. With the purchase of the house came 100 acres of crop land that, in the autumn, blossomed into golden produce that swayed beautifully in the wind.

I slipped on my shoes and headed out to the road, still slightly groggy. Upon opening the mailbox, I found a dead bird inside; at first, I thought it was those stupid kids playing pranks again - last week, they decided to toilet paper my lawn. I pulled the dead bird out and threw it on the ground; it was mangled to a pulp, almost as if a dog had gotten hold of it.

Inside was nothing. 

I started to think that maybe the kids had stole my mail, but eventually I brushed it off and told myself I'd get up early in the morning and watch the mail come so I could catch the jerks in the act. The next morning came and the mailman came as usual. I walked out and got my mail, not thinking anything of it. the next morning was the same.The next week came and I walked out to get my mail once again. This time, I was horrified at the sight; my white mailbox had blood smeared all over it. I opened the mailbox cautiously. Inside was a mangled cat. 

I gasped and covered my mouth, quickly choking back the vomit raising to my throat. I rushed to my garage, put on my gloves, and pulled the poor animal out. Stapled to it was a note, fairly legible, but crude nonetheless. On the note was a simple smiley face. I was disgusted at that; whoever did it thought it was funny. I gave the cat a proper burial and continued with my day.The next morning, I woke up around 5:00 AM, walked out, and checked my mailbox again to see if it had been tampered with. The cat I had just buried in my backyard was stuffed inside yet again, this time another note attached to it. This one had a frowning face and under it, "You don't like my present?"Pissed off and finally fed up, I decided to bury it yet again and stay up all night to watch my mailbox to find out who was doing this. The time rolled by - 12:00 am, 1:00 am, 2:00 am, nothing at all....then, at 3:00 am, I finally saw movement across the road and out of the cornfield there came a figure into my yard. 

I watched it until it finally came under the security light I have in the middle of my yard. What I saw I cannot begin to explain. It was a man...or at least I think it was. It was hunched over like an old man with long gangly arms that went farther than the average human and its head bent downwards as if it was looking for something it had dropped on the ground.The man looked frail and weak, but it moved with great speed. I quickly and quietly moved to the back window and peered out as I saw it dig up the cat once again and hold it in its arms; it stroked the cat as if it were alive and quickly hurried around to the front of my house. Back at my front window again and watching it as it made its way to my mailbox and put the cat inside, it disappeared into the night. That day I didn't leave my house; I was too shocked of what happened. I slept a bit then decided to take a trip to the store; when I came back, I checked the mailbox again and there it was, the same cat I just buried. I went to take the dead cat out of my mailbox once again and bury it in a different spot, then proceeded to stay up again that night and what to see what happened.

A flashlight in hand and watching my front window again, I saw the long, spindly man come out of the field and jog into my yard, to the spot where I just buried the cat that day and started to dig it up with his hands. I slid open the back sliding glass door and stepped outside, turned on the flashlight at the man, and yelled "What in the hell are you doing?!" The man turned around to face me, and that's when I saw the thing for the first time, in plain sight. Its body looked like it had been mauled by a bear - clothes ripped, rotting skin shown through, its teeth completely exposed and jagged, and the eyes sunken in. I quickly ran back inside as it gave a shrieking sound and hopped over in my direction.I slid the glass door shut and locked it, and grabbed the pistol I had bought for self-defense from under my couch. Sending a bullet into the chamber, I shined the light at the door and waited. I accidentally fired off a shot in fear when a glob of something smacked against the glass and slid down it. I walked to the glass door and shined the light down to see what it was: a mess of entrails were scattered across the bottom and blood smeared across the glass. 

Sick to my stomach, I chocked back the vomit that was rising from my stomach.I quickly rushed back to the couch that was against the wall and sat there with my eyes fixed upon the glass door, my flashlight off. Outside, I could see the moonlight through the gruesome mess that was plastered upon the glass. I saw a figure approach the door, then its hands smeared the blood across the window. I was frozen with fear, waiting for it to break the glass and try to take my life from me.After smearing the blood, it turned around and walked away. I swear I could hear a faint chuckle, like a smoker's lungs laugh, but more raspy. I sat in the sofa and didn't budge; I don't know how long I waited, but after a while the room became light as the sun rose in the sky. I looked around the house - everything was so quiet - then fixed my eyes on the window and smeared across it were hand prints with very unusually long fingers and a smiley, the same one on the letter. I sighed and tried to make myself comfortable, but, still alert, I laid down and rested my eyes. 

A few hours later, I awoke from a nightmare and propped myself up on the couch.I was, apparently, pissing whatever it was off, and I was getting more scared by the second just thinking of whatever was out there, lurking. I cleaned up the entrails off the ground and went out to check my mail, then I came across a plain letter. Curious, I opened it up and felt a chill shoot up my spine.The letter had no words - only a smile, the same, crude smile that was on the letter stapled to the cat and on my sliding glass door.I quickly crumbled it up and tossed it on the ground. I left that night; I went to stay with my parents up in the city for a few weeks. Not explaining my situation to them, I just simply told them that I had been sick of country life and needed a change for a few weeks. They happily agreed. 

When I returned to my home three weeks later, horror was stricken across my face, for my house was not as I left it. As soon as I walked in, the stench of rotting carcass hit my nostrils and I vomited on the floor. Covering my nose with my shirt, I proceeded to the light switch.Turning on the light made me shriek in terror. Scattered throughout my house were entrails and carcasses of dead animals; some were propped up like humans on my couch, and all were staring at me as I stood, horrified, in the doorway. All over the white walls were smiley faces and the same writing over and over, "I'm very angry with you," written in blood. I lifted up the couch seat to look for my pistol, but it was gone.I saw something in the hallway moving steadily back and forth. Flipping on the hall light, there it was again: the creature who had almost killed me the night before I had left. It snapped its gaze to me and moved its mouth into a sickening smile. It jumped up and started to walk in my direction. I quickly turned around and ran outside, slamming the door behind me. 

I got into my car, started it up, and proceeded to back out of the driveway and onto the road as fast as I could. Behind me, I saw a figure in my rear-view mirror running up to my car; its arms slammed into the trunk and it proceeded to hop onto the roof of my car.I shifted into drive and slammed on the gas; I drove all night as far as I could away from the house, those dead animals, that thing. As soon as I was in the city limits, I decided to buy some gas, seeing as I was almost on empty. I pulled into a gas station and got out of my car. My eyes widened as I saw the trunk had been completely bashed in. I quickly pumped the gas and left for my parents' house. 

Four months later, I am living in my apartment, dealing with occasional nightmares at times, but could never be happier to get away from that house and that monster that lives there.I just checked my mail this morning and received a letter with no return address. Inside, written on crumpled up paper, was a crudely draw smiley face and the words, "You can't hide," scribbled underneath it.

Terrifying and disgusting. I don't know what your mental image is for the way the monster looks and the way it sounds, but what I've got cooking in my imagination leaves me pretty unsettled. So this picture of another awesome animal is not just to help calm you down, it's also for me:

(Image courtesy of: http://chztotsandgiggles.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/funny-kids-pictures-superhero-squad-to-the-rescue.jpg)

Alright, take it easy guys, I plan to have the ghost-hunting story up in the next couple days!

Talking about death. ENJOY!

By now, pretty much everybody knows that Ryan Dunn from CkY and Jackass died yesterday, and the issue has been discussed to death, but I don't care. I want to talk about it, myself.

I was surprised by how bummed out I was when I found out. Bobby posted a link to the news story on my Facebook, and my heart instantly dropped. It was weird. What/why the hell do I care?

HERE'S why I care: As absolutely weird and gross and stupid the stuff he did was, I think it was all really great.

I remember getting the first CkY (precursor to Jackass) video as a bootleg VHS. I think I still have it, it's pretty much unwatchable. My family had just recently moved to New Jersey, and I was pretty angry, so this bootleg tape helped me make friends with people who also knew about it. I think I was about 14 years old, and I'd never laughed so goddamn hard at something in my life. It was just a bunch of dudes being idiots. It looked like they basically just had a camcorder and fucking weird, funny ideas. It was essentially Looney Toons with humans. Hilarious. It starred Bam Margera, Ryan Dunn, and Brandon Dicamillo. I think I forgot about it almost instantly.

Then Jackass came out and it included all the guys from CkY and more. Now they had Johnny Knoxville (pretty much Bugs Bunny) as their accidental leader. The show was hilarious, and I mostly remember watching it at 3:00am when I couldn't sleep. The show was really actually kind of quiet, so when I think about that show, I think about how silent everything around me was, except for when somebody got hurt and I'd frantically turn down the volume. Stupid moron kids started imitating the show though, and hurting themselves, so the show was cancelled. This was the first real controversy surrounding the show. I knew that it wasn't reasonable to blame the stupidity of these kids on the show, and I always talked about just that with friends, but there was always the nagging truth that by having a popular show on television, those guys (whether they wanted it or not) had become role models. Which is weird. I can laugh at a dude jumping off a building holding an umbrella without wanting to try it myself.

Things, for me, started getting really interesting at this point. After the TV show ended, a couple of spin off's popped up. One was a nature documentary starring two of the Jackass guys, and the other was a sort of reality show following Bam Margera's life, and Bam had been friends with Ryan Dunn since they were kids. Ryan was in, I think, every single episode, and instead of just having 3 minute skits, there was a full storyline for each episode, and you started seeing what these guys were actually like. Bam Margera is a real asshole. I think he's really funny, but I also really hate how much he loves himself. And I hate that he wears top hats without a shirt on and shit. He's an ass. Everything in Bam's life rotates around doing what he wants to do, except for Ryan Dunn, who will make fun of Bam and sort of take him down a peg. It turned out that Ryan Dunn was just as crazy as Bam, and just as willing to hurt himself to make his friends laugh, but he also seemed to have a side of him that couldn't help but acknowledge how stupid it all was. He was sarcastic, but he always stuck around. More than all that, really, was that Bam's parents were a huge part of the show, and you could really tell that they loved Ryan and Ryan loved them. That wasn't the point of the show, but that's the vibe that exists behind all the other bullshit.

Then they did the movies, which were all really funny, but they were now tinged with the fact that you'd seen a little more of everyone's personalities. It made them more accessible and amusing. They also started making sure that, for each segment, everybody was around. Instead of one guy hurting himself in silence, now all of his friends would be there, laughing at him. By the end of the third movie, you really got the sense that these guys were all really good friends, and they just wanted to have fun and make each other laugh. I don't give a shit what you say about those movies. I know they're gross (LOTS of poop) but I'll defend them to the goddamn death, because you NEVER see genuine friendship in a movie. During the credits of the third movie, all of the Jackass guys sing the song Memories with Weezer. I hate that song, and I'd heard it before I saw the movie, so when I heard it starting up, I groaned, but then I had to change my mind. The credits of the movie, while everyone is singing the song, go person-by-person through the whole cast. They show a baby picture of each guy, then a picture of them as a teenager, then a little older, and older, and older, and then it's a current photo. By pretty much the 3rd picture of each guy, they're instantly recognizeable, because suddenly you're reminded of what these guys looked like 10+ years ago. It brought me back to that stupid bootleg tape.

It's like when you know someone really well in real life, and then you see a picture from a few years ago, and it's alien. You were too close to see the gradual change in them. That's exactly what happened during the credits. I didn't realize that I'd accidentally been consistently watching these guys for so long.

So I was really bummed out when I found out Ryan Dunn died. I don't think I ever thought about him unless I was watching a show/movie he was in, but there was something about having to acknowledge that after having watched him do shit for years, he was dead. I'm sure there was also something in there about how much he's hurt himself before without lasting effect vs. how he burst into flame and died, but I don't care to examine that.

It's really fucked up. Reallllly fucked up. Everything about it. What he was doing, how it happened, and the aftermath of it. So we all know that he tweeted a picture of himself drinking at a bar just hours before he was pronounced dead on the scene. We all know that he had a passenger with him, who also died. Everybody on the internet (who had an opinion) went insane. Some people were arguing that he was an asshole for speeding while drunk with a passenger. They called him a murderer and said that this is what you get when you live your life like a Jackass. Some people thought it was a failed stunt for a fourth movie. Some people said that he was a great guy, and he was so funny, and they can't believe he's dead. Some people said they didn't want to consider that he was drunk or speeding until it was indisputably proven. I think I was basically saying all of those things.

Knowing all the facts now, I have to say that I really liked Ryan Dunn, and I still do. I think that he was hilarious and down to earth and entertaining as hell, but you can't forgive the dumb fucking decisions he made on Sunday. He was stupid that night. And his actions got not just himself, but a friend killed. It's unreasonable to deny that. But I have a lot of crazy thoughts about death, and the BEST thing about this situation is that he probably only had a few moments of worry and pain. Everything before that was partying and being crazy like he got paid and honored to do his whole life. Death is great for the dead. He doesn't have to deal with the fallout of what happened that night. It's over for him. He had a crazy great life and blew himself up. So that's all great for him, but what about the people who cared about him who are left here without him?

Another huge issue around his death has been the media outcry over how irresponsible and senseless his death was. Again, it wasn't just him. He caused the death of a friend, who was recently married. I'm sure that you all read what Roger Ebert said, "Friends don't let Jackasses drive drunk." He's right, but I think the tone of the message was off, as was the timing (the day of the crash). Bam Margera, who had until then not publicly spoken, bashed Roger Ebert on Twitter, talking about how he was crying his eyes out all day and said that Ebert should keep his fat mouth shut. Aside from evidently not knowing that Ebert's mouth hasn't been fat in a long time, I think that Bam is ALSO right. It really fucking pissed me off that everybody decided that this was now a fight or debate between Bam Margera and Roger Ebert. Everyone was debating online who was right, whose argument was more valid. But Bam Margera wasn't making a fucking argument, he was upset.

A friend of his who he'd grown up with had just died in so violent a way that he was identified by only his tattoos and facial hair. I mean, for all I know, the coroner wasn't a fan, but I feel like this might mean that Ryan Dunn was otherwise unrecognizable. He was mangled. Bam Margera telling Roger Ebert to shut up was not his way of condoning driving drunk or something, he was reacting to the fact that he didn't like his friend being referred to as a jackass on the day he died. Just as a side note, why exactly did Roger Ebert need to throw in his advice? Kind of unnecessary. Whatever.

So today I watched footage of Bam Margera going to the scene of the accident. He's clearly inconsolable. He's just shaking and crying, and blubbering, and he's fucking entitled to. I've read so many comments about the appearance on the internet today, talking about how Bam is weird and weak, and Ryan Dunn deserved to die, drunk drivers should go to hell, etc, but it pisses me off, because he wasn't there to show off or defend his friend, he was there to mourn. He was upset. You're allowed to be upset. It's almost like we expect life to move as quickly as information moves on the internet. "Christ, it's been TWO DAYS already, get over it Bam!" It's unfair. It's bullshit. I don't like Bam Margera, but he can cry as much as he fucking wants, and he can say whatever the fuck he wants without it being interpreted as an official statement. Death sucks.

People are assholes. They're insensitive. And in this case, it's like they're trying to fight for logic and sanity by saying that Ryan Dunn deserved to die because he drank and drove and killed, but then they turn that logic into a reason for why no one should care. You can have it both ways. I'm really fucking angry at how stupid Ryan Dunn was. He killed himself and a friend, and it's a goddamn lucky thing that he didn't hit anyone else on his way down the road. He could have. But I still liked him, he was still somebody that I got to know (in a limited fashion) over the course of years. I think we forget the impact of death.

I used to work at a TGI Fridays, and when I was there one day, I got the news that my grandmother died. I've never been the best at showing weakness in public, so when I walked to the back office, in a daze, I told my bosses what had happened in a really monotone way, with no expression on my face. Like a sociopath, basically, but what can you do? Now, I feel like two things must have happened in this moment:

1: My bosses realized that I was speaking different than usual

and

2: I kind of don't think they believed me. To this day I'm pretty sure they thought I was fucking lying to skip out on the last couple of hours of work.

I think this because they asked me if I could run to the store for them before I went home.

Assholes. Fucking assholes.

I was confused, because in the moment, I didn't process their reaction as skepticism, it seemed more like my grandmother's death wasn't a big deal to them, especially when they were running out of milk!!

I stammered a little and asked if there was ANYONE else that could go, because I wanted to come home and be with my family. They told me there wasn't. The next thing I knew I was standing in a fucking Walmart. I'd been convinced it wasn't important. I'd been royally fucked over because of how cynical they were.

We're all too fucking cynical. Myself included. It's not great.

Oof.

Next time I'll just write about Nintendo or something.