Alright folks, first of all; sorry for such a long absence. I finally scored a job as a graphic designer out here in Vegas, and I’ve been logging anywhere between 10 to 12 hours a day. I’m exhausted, but I figured that I’d get on here and regale you with yet another tale involving myself, and the lovely Ms. Sparkles. She made her first appearance in the virginity story a while back. This story is super long, so it makes up for lost time.
This particular story recounts where it all began. The world has quite a peculiar way of setting up situations. For instance, I met Sparkles at a county fair, fifty miles from home, and almost two years before the fateful day when she made me a man. There was nothing fantastic about that night. As a matter of fact, she was a friend of my best friend, and just so happened to be at the fair the same day that we were. Funny, I don’t remember saying a single word to her. I’m sure I said hello, but I’m willing to be that was the extent of it.
Fast forward two years, and we started talking, on the internet of all places. If I had to guess it was MySpace, because like many failing musicians I set up an account hoping that by some divine act of God, I would gain recognition. I did. However, it was a different form of recognition; from the ladies. Now, let me just clarify, I wasn’t swimming in the ol’ tang pool by any means. I’m almost twenty two years old, and I’ve only actually gotten laid by three women. I’m quite alright with that, as a matter of fact I find people that sleep with everyone they meet to be rather disgusting. This is clearly a combination of jealousy and sarcasm, but I digress.
Getting back to the matter at hand, we started talking. After a while of exchanging flirtatious texts back and forth, we decided that she should come out and visit. This frightened me for numerous reasons. Number one, I talk a pretty big game, and can sweep any woman off her feet over text messages. I’m a writer, it’s kind of what I do. I am not, however, very great at improvisation. I’m not nearly as smooth in person as I am via text. Number two, at that point in my life I had not been laid, by anyone. My boy parts might as well have been rotting away on a shelf like an old toy. Number Three, I was what’s commonly known as socially awkward. To this day, it still takes me at least a month of knowing someone before I can really break out of my shell. Number Four, and this was just the icing on the cake; I still lived with my parents.
Now, after hearing all of those reasons, I’ll admit; I wouldn’t even want to lay myself. So, the fact that any girl found me interesting enough to drive twenty miles to see me blew my mind (and later, my wiener.) However, she did come out, and I remember just sitting outside with her on the tail gate of my dads truck. Every once in a while she would inch her way closer to me, and put her hand on my thigh while we talked.
Can we just take a moment to thank the heavens for that alone? Women these days feel that a man needs to make the first move, and it’s absolute bullshit. If you wan’t it so damn badly, then reach on over and take it. When has a man ever said, “No, get your hands off my dong!” Well…me, but we’ll get to that later. Anyway, getting back to the story…
It was cold. So we decided to just sit in her car and listen to music. She not only listened, but seemed intrigued with what I was saying. After a while, my balls thawed out, and I decided to be a man. I looked at her, and in my head, I’m pretty sure I said something along the lines of “Target acquired” but who knows. I leaned over, and kissed her. Boom. Within minutes, things are getting hot and heavy. She takes initiative and invites an old pal of mine, Dong Johnson, to the party. Let me tell you, HE WAS EXCITED TO MAKE AN APPEARANCE.
She doesn’t blow me. Why would she? It’s the first time we’ve ever spent any time together, and she’s got a little thing called class. I did, however, get an unbelievably fantastic handy. It was great, listening to music, making sweet love to someone else’s hand for a change, things were looking up. After another hour or so I told her that I had to get some sleep. I had work at 7 the next morning, and it was already past midnight. I got out of the car, walked over to her, and kissed her goodnight and headed to the front door.
Like many of these stories, things didn’t end there.
As I’m walking up the porch to my front door, I hear her engine turn over. Multiple times. If I had to guess, I’d say at least 4,000. I stop dead in my tracks, and turn around thinking one single word, “Fuck.” I knew that if my parents for some reason decided to wake up and hear a car turning over outside, they’d not only look, but investigate. If either of them found out that there was a woman making conjugal visits to their sex depraved son, shit would hit the fan.
She get’s out of the car, and smiles at me. I walk back, and say this cannot be good. Thinking back, I knew that listening to music for endless hours in an idle car, would most likely drain the better. However, at the time I wasn’t thinking clearly due to the fact that a woman was giving me attention in the most pleasurable of ways.
Luckily for me, she called a friend in the area, and asked for a jump. He was an acquaintance of mine, and I really didn’t want him finding out that she and I we’re…getting to know each other. So I did what any man would do, when faced with a situation where you have the opportunity to stand up and show your true colors. I grabbed her hand, looked her dead in the eyes, and said, “Well, see ya.” Then went inside, and slept like a baby.
Over our short time together, Sparkles would open me up to a whole world of sexual experiences that I never thought I’d have the pleasure of enjoying. The kind of stuff you usually only see in porn. Ridiculous bj’s, facials in the park after dark, swallowing every single time, erotic yet strange ball stuff, she even bit my dick once, which I didn’t care for, but we’ll get to that another time. She is to this day, the only woman that never played games. What you see is what you get, and I’m not lying when I say it was perfect. She was the sweetest girl that I’ve ever met, and I hope wherever she is, she’s doing well.
Until next time, friends.
-Scott Walker
The tragic thing about not taking notes on events such as this, is that I can’t seem to place the exact period when this happened. I remember about 95% of all the paranormal things that happen to me, but I remember them without a date to back them up. I can easily remember the 1st one that happened when I was about five years old, and I can remember the most recent one that’s taken place just a few weeks prior to this post. However, everything that’s happened in between is just a random clusterfuck of events. Looking back, it would’ve been better if I had kept a journal on these types of experiences, but…that just seems like it’d be a whole lot of work. This story took place late 2010, if my memory serves me right.
It was a strange time for me, my parents were going through their ups and downs, and my mother was currently staying with her mom in Boise, Idaho. I stayed with my dad in our house in Southern California. One night, after my dad had gone to sleep, I decided to bring the guitar into the living room and work on a few songs that I had been writing at the time. For some reason, I always seemed to do my best writing at night.
I started to feel a bit tired after about twenty minutes on the couch, and decided to go wake myself up to the best of my ability. I went into the bathroom, and splashed my face with cold water, and as usual, ended up staring at myself in the mirror for a solid five minutes (I clearly have issues.) When I finally got back out to the living room, I went to reach for my pen, when I noticed that there was a tiny black feather positioned perfectly underneath it.
This baffled me for one of two reasons. First of all, I distinctly remember placing my pen down on my notebook without seeing a feather. And secondly, I got the most peculiar sense of paranoia when I caught a glimpse of it. I pulled it out, and held it up to the light. When I say this thing was tiny, I mean this thing was FUCKING TINY. It couldn’t have been longer than two inches, and at the widest, it was maybe three centimeters. Hands down, the smallest feather that I have ever seen.
I just kind of laughed it off, but decided that I would take a picture with my blackberry and send it to my mother. I knew she’d get a kick out of it, because she was as religious as they come, and would probably go on and on about how it was an angel. My mom decided to call me, and just like I had figured she would, ended up telling me that it was an angel.
I distinctively remember telling her that I didn’t think angels had black wings. Thought that would’ve fallen more or less under the demon category, which, was definitely not something I wanted to look into. After about ten minutes of random phone conversation with her, I eventually told her that I was tired and was going to get some sleep.
As soon as I hung up the phone, I went into the kitchen to fill up my water bottle. The strangest thing happened to me as I walked through the entryway. It felt as if I had just walked through a force field of some kind. I know it sounds strange, but the best way that I can describe it, is it felt as if I walked through an invisible 2-inch thick coat of jelly. I’m not talking about Smuckers, or anything along those sorts, I’m just referring to texture alone, that’s what it felt like.
Immediately after passing through it, I remember getting goosebumps all over my body, and they stayed for a solid minute. As I was filling up my water, my eyes did not look away from that entryway. I went to hang up the phone to charge, and as I passed the microwave I got this strange feeling of fear. The type of fear that freezes you dead in your tracks. I dont know how, but I knew that if I looked over at the entryway one more time, I would catch a glimpse of whatever it was that left that black feather for me.
I must’ve stood there staring at the ground for a solid five minutes, before mustering up the courage to look up. I glanced cautiously into the reflection of the microwave, and to my dismay, saw the silhouette of a man. He filled the entire entryway, so I’m guessing he was an upwards of nine to ten feet tall. I then jolted my head in his direction, and nothing was there.
I stared at the entrance of the kitchen, and said something along the lines of, “Okay, well..this was great and all, but I think I’m going to go get some sleep.” I then took a deep breath, and ran through the entryway again. You know, that run you did as a kid when you were scared of the dark, so you had to turn off the light as fast as you could, then run like the little pansy you were to hide under your sheets? Yeah, that one. That was me, at 20 years old, running out of my kitchen. Flipping off every light switch as I ran to my bedroom.
I remember looking back into the darkness, just as I was rounding the hallway to my room. I don’t know why I did this. I think it mainly has to do with me being a fucking idiot, or maybe curiosity. I remember seeing the silhouette still standing there in the entryway of the kitchen. I couldn’t see a face, eyes, or any features whatsoever, but got the creepy feeling that it was looking at me. Luckily, I made it to my room, closed and locked the door, and went on with my night in peace. Well, as peaceful as you can be after experiencing something of that magnitude.
That was the last time I would have an encounter with black feathers until November of 2011. That, however, is a story for another night. I still don’t know what it was. Research indicates that it could have been any number of things. A warring/guardian angel, a death omen, it could have even been a demon. Quite frankly, either one of those things would have scared me shitless. Jesus himself could show up, and I’d probably cry my eyes out, because I, ladies and gentlemen, am what’s commonly referred to as a pussy. If any of you have similar stories, or questions about mine, feel free to send me an email. Just click on the contact button to the right. As always, thanks for reading, and be sure to tell your friends!
Until Next Time,
Scott Walker
Alright, it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I do apologize, but this job hunt has been taking up a great deal of my time. With that being said, I’ve decided I will regale you fine readers with a short story blended together seamlessly by four very different ingredients; myself, Eva, brownie mix, and a telephone.
I’m going to begin this story by listing just a few of the red flags that were brought to my attention during my pursuit of Eva. We’ll go ahead and tally these up as cons:
- She was 18 years old
- She had 2 children
- She was currently in a relationship
- Her boyfriend was in a gang, and had previously killed 3 people
- I was on the list as number 4
- My life was threatened numerous times
- That sleazebag had given her HPV
- She assumed that because I wouldn’t sleep with her, I didn’t like her
- Her family was beyond crazy
Just to name a few. However, it wouldn’t be fair unless I also weighed in the pros that I encountered. So, here are the pros:
- She was fucking hot
Alright! Now that we’ve painted that picture, I think maybe it’s time to get back to my original story. Rest assured, this is just one of many stories featuring Eva. I’ll be sure to post more in future updates.
Anyway, back to our story. Eva would call me usually twice a day, at least. One day, in particular, she called me around noon. I was in the middle of baking brownies, as I promised that I’d whip her up a batch. Upon hearing that, she seemed to be overjoyed. Granted, I didn’t take this too deep into consideration because, I too, am quite the fan of delicious baked goods.
We were talking for no more than fifteen minutes, when I started to notice that she would pause from conversation for a solid ten seconds every few minutes. I thought it a bit strange so eventually I brought it up to her. This is the conversation to the best of my memory:
Me: “If you’re busy, I can let you go.”
Eva: “What? No. It’s fine, keep going..”
Me: “It sounds like you’re running.”
Eva: “I’m not, I’m just laying down.”
Me: “Why are you breathing so heav…”
Eva: “…what?”
Me: “…Are you..?”
Eva: “Am I what?”
Me: “…fingering yourself?”
Eva: “…no”
Me: “No, you totally are.”
Eva: “Okay. Sorry, but you really turn me on.”
Me: “How?”
Eva: “I don’t know, just all the sweet things you do for me..”
Me: “Are you saying that the thought of me baking these brownies turns you on?”
Eva: “I guess. I don’t know. I just really want to be with you…you know?”
Me: “Definitely..”
Eva: “You probably think I’m fucking weird.”
Me: “Oh, no. I’m flattered. My baking is orgasmic. It’s good to know.”
That conversation went on for another twenty minutes or so. She later came over to pick up her brownies. However, upon finding out that my mother was asleep, she quickly insisted that we take the party into my room. As usual, my mother woke up within a good thirty seconds of Eva and my alone time. Well played, Ma.
I should clarify, I never did sleep with Eva. Every fiber of my being wanted to, but truth is, I knew what she had, and unfortunately my mother raised me a bit better than that. That’s actually why her and I never dated. She assumed that because I wouldn’t fuck her, that I clearly wasn’t interested in her. Chick’s a twist. I guess if there is one thing I want you all to learn from this experience of mine, it is this; those brownies were fucking delicious…
Until next time,
-Scott Walker
Remember back to a simpler time when kids were adorable little orbs of potential, jam packed with ridiculously cute catch phrases, and an overall cheery outlook on this constant shit storm we refer to as life? Not to completely shatter the spirit of our beloved Mr. Cosby, but the times are a’ changing Bill, and from the looks of it, there’s not a damn thing to be done to better the situation! …or is there?
Growing up, my friends and I had an endless supply of things to keep our minds busy throughout those long summer days. All of which were outdoor activities, that taught us about exercise, friendship, and the eternal bond of brotherhood. We’d waste our days away, riding our bikes to the park, catching lizards in the middle of the desert, making home movies, and having lightsaber battles with choreography that would leave Qui Gon Jinn on the floor, defenseless, in a puddle of his own tears. Fact is, we were out, we were productive, we had fun, but we were also respectful of all those silly rules put in place by the elderly (whether or not we understood why they were there.)
These days kids are an absolute mess. Finding one that is respectful of authority is like finding a Goth kid in a pile of Emo’s. I hear kids no older than seven years old, dropping F bombs, S bombs, D bombs, A bombs, and even the occasional C bomb. I see kids fresh from the vag talking about bitches and sex as if their balls dropped decades ago. Not only is this buckets of disrespect, and in all honesty it’s down right worthy of a throat punch followed by a quick leg sweep. Not that I’d ever consider doing that to a child (I totally would.) Fact is, this not only makes the children themselves look bad, but it also makes the parents look bad.
Honestly, I’m not pointing the finger at most parents. Though there are parents that shouldn’t leave the house without strapping on a helmet, sometimes they have no idea that their kid is acting like the retarded offspring of Satan himself. I’m pointing the finger at the media (how original), kids are exposed to this stuff almost on a daily basis. Fuck, most school buses listen to mainstream radio stations on the way to dropping these little bastards off at their designated learning stations. What is it again that we’re hearing on mainstream radio stations? Oh yeah, that’s right, lifeless rappers ‘singing’ about cappin’ people in the streets, robbing banks, fuckin bitches, and making money selling dope. How the FUCK are we still wondering why children are the way they are these days? How can we expect our children not to be influenced by this filth, if we expose them to it on a daily basis?
The Rundown: Kids are constantly taking in their surroundings, it’s how they grow, it’s how they expand their knowledge of how things work. They’re just little sponges, soaking up whatever life throws their way. If we want our children to start respecting authority, and actually working to become something of value, we’ve got to start putting our foot down on what it is they’re exposed to. They don’t know the difference between right and wrong, it’s our job to teach them, and the easiest way to go about that is to be good role models. Instead of watching Kill Bill while juniors on the couch with you, watch something a bit more age appropriate. If you’re in the car with your child, and some deadbeat douche bag comes on the radio talking about the women he’s fucked and the drugs he’s taken, try putting on something that will possibly help him out in the long run. Kids are only as disrespectful as we teach them to be. So maybe it’s time we start acting like the role models we’re supposed to be. Suck it.
I’ve always had a secret fascination with stories regarding unexplainable paranormal experiences. Especially due to the fact that I have been through quite a few, myself. Although I’ve experienced my fair share of strange happenings, very few of them have been outside of my house, and only one of them have ever taken place while I was with a friend. Well, until 2009, that is.
A buddy of mine was going through a pretty harsh divorce, and I was trying to be there for him, now more than ever. He was living at his brothers house, about twenty minutes away from where I lived, so I did my best to go visit as often as I could. One night in particular, we were sitting in his brothers living room. He had told me that he planned to go down to his house, to pick up a few of his belongings, and he asked if I wanted to tag along. Although I was exhausted, I told him that I would definitely be down to go along for the ride.
I let him know that I needed to head back to my house to pick up a few things if I’d be staying the night at his brothers, and told him that I’d be back within the hour. He insisted on coming with me, and since he had been drinking pretty heavily that night, I didn’t want to leave him there alone. So we hopped in my car, and headed back to my place.
We we’re at my house for no longer than ten minutes. I left the room for a few seconds, and came back to find him sprawled out on my bed, talking on the phone. I wasn’t really paying attention to him, because I was too busy gathering everything that I’d need for the next day. I turned around to find him passed out, with the phone still held to his ear. As funny as this sight was, I didn’t waste much time before waking him up.
I helped him into the car, and we started our journey back to his brothers house. I had just turned onto North Loop, a mere twenty seconds from my house. The car was quiet. I was getting a little upset with the car in front of me for going so goddamn slow. As we were getting closer to the gas station, I glanced to my left and noticed a small child running toward the road. He couldn’t have been more than twenty feet in front of the car that I was behind.
My heart started beating faster as I saw him begin running across the road. I freaked out, knowing that the car in front of me didn’t have enough time to stop. To my surprise the driver didn’t even attempt to stop, I thought for sure that little boy was going to get hit. That’s when things got interesting.
I lost sight of the boy as he ran in front of the car, but very quickly regained sight of him…as he passed through the car ahead of me. The car passed entirely through this child, and so did we. I saw him emerge from the rear end of the ahead of me, and completely pass through my windshield. As I glanced up to look in the rear view mirror, I saw nothing. Not a trace of anything that had happened.
I was quietly freaking out, trying to understand what had just taken place. I assumed that my friend was doing the same thing, since he didn’t make a peep throughout the entire experience. As freaked out as I was, I was also relieved that finally someone had been through one of these frightening experiences with me! I looked over and said word for word, “Holy fuck. Did you just see that?” Turns out that my buddy had fallen asleep, and missed the entire thing.
The crazy thing, is that this ghost runner didn’t skip a beat. He ran from the left side of the road, to the right, without even noticing the two cars heading in his direction. Even when we passed right through him, he didn’t slow down, or look around. He just kept the same running position. I thought it was a bit strange, but by the time we got to my buddies brothers place I had practically forgotten about it. Thinking back now, that is the only friend that I’ve ever experienced anything like this with. The first encounter was at his house, and he was wide awake. Maybe he’s as open to this kind of shit as I am, but that’s a story for another night though.
If any of you guys have interesting paranormal stories, or even questions about the shit that I post, feel free to send any questions or comments to Scott@TragicallyHilarious.com, I’d love to hear from you.
It was 2006, and I had just turned 16 years old. Like many other teenagers, ripe with testosterone, my biggest priority was to find a decent girl to call my own. Lacey was that girl. I had my eyes set on her for quite some time. Although I knew her as a child, we never really spent too much time together unless our parents were having a get together. It wasn’t until the summer of 2005 that I really started showing interest in her. She had become a regular at my church’s Wednesday night youth group service. That’s when we started talking more frequently.
She had everything. The looks, the personality, and she laughed at all my shitty jokes. I wanted to ask her out for several months before I actually got the courage to do so. I had just gotten a job at the local McDonald’s, and knowing that I was at the top of my game, I thought there was no better time than the present to make that happen. I approached her the way I approach many unsuspecting females; awkward as fuck. After several minutes of petty conversation, I finally built up the courage to ask her out, and to my surprise, she said yes.
I was on cloud nine. You know that feeling when you chase after something for so long, and after countless hours of building flow charts and diagrams to map out a solid game plan, you finally claim your prize? That was the feeling that poured over me for the entirety of Lacey and my relationship. All three weeks of it…
Yeah, that’s right. I had taken months out of my busy schedule of playing video games, slapping ham, and making mcchickens to concentrate all of my will power on winning this girls heart, and it lasted for three goddamn weeks. I was devastated. So devastated, in fact, that I would ask random strangers for advice on how to rid myself of these dreaded breakup blues. Lacey had a best friend. A land manatee of sorts, by the name of Crystal. Lacey would tell Crystal everything. I figured if there was any surefire way of getting to the bottom of this breakup, I would need to befriend this creature, and gain her knowledge on the situation.
We had been talking for a couple weeks, when one night I brought up the topic of Lacey’s 17th birthday party. I told Crystal that I was kind of hurt by the fact that Lacey hadn’t invited me. That’s when the truth finally came out. Crystal, who was currently angry with Lacey, over something minuscule that I can’t quite remember, suddenly began spilling the beans on the whole situation. She told me that the reason I wasn’t invited was because it was a “girls only” sleepover. That’s fine, teenage girls do that shit all the time, I thought.
Crystal proceeded to tell me that, not only was it girls only party, but it was more of a lesbian get together. This conversation took place almost 6 years ago, so it’s a little fuzzy, but I believe it went something like this;
Me: Hmmm..
Crystal: Yeah, so that’s why she didn’t invite you.
Me: Because she didn’t want her boyfriend to get mad that she’s a lesbian?
Crystal: Basically. I dont know. Lacey was making out with a couple girls.
Me: That probably explains why we never kissed.
Crystal: She thinks really highly of you Scott, but yeah, she’s a lesbian.
Me: So, my girlfriend was cheating on me with other girls?
Crystal: Yeah.
I’d like to tell you all that I had something witty lined up to lighten the mood of the conversation, but truth be told, I was devastated. This was the 3rd lesbian that I had dated, and I was starting to see a pattern. I’m not going to go into details, but that church had a slew of lesbian girls just lurking in the shadows. Unfortunately, I was caught up in that bullshit for several years. It wasn’t until after Lacey and I split, that I found my way out. It was at the hands of a coworker that I would soon find myself falling in love. A beautiful young woman by the name of Babydoll. The soon to be love of my pathetic little life. But that’s a story for another night.
I guess the moral of this story is simple; church is the last place you want to find a woman.
