The wild animal/serial killer/ghost that always drags itself across the porch at night is up to its old tricks again and I am still paralyzingly afraid of making eye contact with it.
Listen, we have a lot of spooky fun here on my blog, but I would without a doubt be irreparably psychologically damaged if I came face to face with an actual entity of some kind. I’m scared to make phone calls. You think I’d be able to handle a shambling night terror? Think again, babe. This is a fragile sort of anarchy. I’m a delicate boy. I’m a real soft kid. I’m three mental illnesses held together with Band Aids.
Whenever I joke about spooky stuff that’s going on, or being scared to be home alone, I always have this thought in the back of my head of, “Well, what if I do get murdered?” What if I die tonight, and the last post I made was, “Gonna’ get killed in the woods tonight! 🌲👻” or some shit? Will I become an internet urban legend? Will my blog be some kind of digital tourist trap where kids go to reblog my last words? Would it be part of the news coverage? “Local Shithead Too Busy Tweeting Jokes About Getting Stabbed to Notice Man With Knife”.
Try being so horriffically offensive to the entity that they are scared to come near you. It works for me.
