there is a refrigerator that is not working good for scrap metal in front of 63 bartow street, it is right by the curb, you are welcomed to pick it up before the sanitation do, thank you.
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Hi, I am giving away my refrigerator since I got a new one. It looks great - very clean inside. The only problem is a lack of handle and some stickiness in the front due to some stickers. Otherwise in great condition and free. Please text me and I wi [...]
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I combined several online recipes and technique guides to create a simple keto key lime cheesecake with an almond flour crust. It turned out really tasty, but I'd like some help figuring out how to improve it. Things like the crust firmness, or any obvious (to the bakers out there) critiques to my technique. This was my first attempt at a cheesecake ever, and I'm pretty happy with it, but am open to suggestions.
Requested help:
One: the crust is too crumbly. "blind" bake longer? More butter?
Two: is a 70 minutes @ 250 in a water bath (Alton Brown technique) overkill since jello was added?
Three: Does the texture look right?
Filling ingredients came from these two posts by the same Redditor:
http://ift.tt/2aqWifK
http://ift.tt/2aewHmJ
Crust came from here:
http://ift.tt/2aqWnQL
Blind baking the crust and water bath came from here:
http://ift.tt/2aewyjx
Equipment
10" pie, cake or spring-form pan ( I used a 9" cake and had left over batter)
baking pan the above fits in, at least 1" deep
mixer
optional: muffin / cup cake pan for the left over batter, and liners. I had aluminum liners.
Filling
Five 8 oz 1/3 fat Philly cream cheese packets
1/2 cup stevia (Great Value aka Walmart "measures cup for cup like sugar")
1 pack (4 servings) sugar free lime Jello gelatin
4 eggs (I had jumbo, but large are probably fine)
3 tbsp lemon juice (to taste. Obvisouly fresh squeezed key lime juice would be preferred)
Optional: Trader Joe's butter spray, for the muffin cups
Crust
1 1/2 cups almond flour (Trader Joe's)
3 tbsp butter (Kerrygold)
3 tbsp stevia (Great Value aka Walmart "measures cup for cup like sugar")
Notes before starting:
Let the cream cheese and eggs come up to room temperature
9" pie pan is too small, but that's what I had. A 10" should be perfect.
I put the extra filling in muffin cups.
Prep the crust first.
And most important: Leave plenty of calories in your day for tasting!
Crust
Pre-heat oven to 300.
Mix the stevia and almond flour in the pan until combined. Gently melt the butter (microwave) and pour it in the flour in the pan. Mix it together until the flour is moistened and push it into the corners and up the sides of the pan. "Blind bake" the crust in the pan for 10 minutes. Let the crust cool while you prep the filling.
Filling
Lower oven to 250.
Empty all five cream heese packets into a mixing bowl.
Add 1/2 cup stevia
Add the lime jello packet
Mix on low to combine. Scrape the sides frequently. Taste for sweet and sourness. To me it was just right for sweet but missing the lime "tang". I added lemon juice, 1 tablespoon at a time, settling on 3 tbsp. (Next time I'll use lime juice, and of course fresh would be best.)
Whisk the eggs in a bowl. Add the eggs slowly. Mix about 1 - 2 minutes until well combined. (is there a reason to mix longer or at a higher speed?).
Boil about 1L of water, depending on the size of your baking pan. The goal is to add water to cover 1" of the cheesecake pan. Place a small towl in the baking pan to help reduce slipping of the cheesecake pan. Put cheesecake + baking pan combo in the oven first, and pour the water while it's in the oven, to avoid spilling.
Bake
Set the timer for 70 minutes.
With a 9" pan, I had left over batter, so I greased aluminum muffin cups with Trader Joe's butter spray, put them in a muffin pan, and filled six cups about 3/4s full.
The muffin pan was added with 60 minutes left on the timer. This seemed to work out great.
Remove from oven, and allow the cheesecake to cool 60 minutes, then move to the refrigerator, uncovered. Allow the cup cakes to cool 30 minutes, then move to the refrigerator, uncovered. After cooling, the cup cakes popped out of the greased aluminum muffin cups with virtual no stick-age.
Allow both to cool overnight. I tried a slice after 4 hours cooling and one the next day. The overnight slice was creamier, with a little bit firmer crust.
Macros
Since I split the batter between the cheesecake and cup cakes, the macros are a swag:
Note: the carbs on the Philly cheesecake is listed as <1g per serving with 8 per box. I estimated 2g per box:
All batter in 10" pan macros:
All cheesecake batter F C P 264g 10g 115g Almond crust F C P 129g 18g 36g (net carbs, with 18g fiber subtracted) 1/8 slice F C P 49g 3.5g 19g
*9" pan + muffine cup macros: *
4/5 cheesecake batter F C P 210g 8g 91g Almond crust F C P 129g 18g 36g (net carbs, with 18g fiber subtracted) 1/8 slice F C P 42g 3g 16g Cupcakes (crustless) 1 cupcake F C P 9g 0 4g**
Thanks!
Basically I had my evil sim in the Sims 4 go to their house with his sim Ray, freeze them all and start transforming everything they owned into random shit. I also think i transformed their only refrigerator too, God bless the Goths.
Free dorm size refrigerator. Free TV stand with 1 shelf & glass doors Free small stereo set (radio & CD) Reply by text or email.
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Well, I've been reading everyone else's Sunday irritation, so. Here's mine.
I walk in as the mid-shift to a SM who told me "Hey, I didn't do anything today because sewage backed in to the bar area from the drains and when I texted our DM, I was told to keep the store open. Plus an opener called out."
Oh. Okay.
That happened at 9:30, a plumber was out at like 10:30-11, but at noon the floors were still wet and everyone was just staring at me. With dead eyes.
I had one partner do drive thru/front with another doing tasking and the final on DT bar because the smell was so terrible at front bar, everyone almost gagged just standing there. So I drug the mats from the BOH to the patio at front of the building... To spray them with cleaner and a garden hose.
After that, I dry mopped. And used towels to do the rest of the water. I kept telling partners that I wasn't going to just let the shit water sit there while I mopped and just swirled clean and shit water together. So. Towels while I danced across the bar area with them to finish drying. Then sweeping everywhere, pulling out refrigerators as I go...
Finally, mopping. With bathroom cleaner. Because I'm not kneeling down to clean more shit drains in shit water.
I worked three and a half hours straight to clean up five hour old shit water, throwing out any boxes on the floor, the drain brush, the cleaner, any gloves I used, and the broom while everything else soaked in floor cleaner and sanitizer... But y'know.
At least I didn't have to work while wading through it like the morning crew, I guess?
I remember there being a trailer that played in theaters not too long ago. It looked like a romantic comedy at first, it had all the tropes. Then at the end of the trailer the main characters are running towards each other on a beach, only to have the scene stop abruptly when the girl runs into either a refrigerator or a washing machine (don't really remember which). Turns out the trailer was a commercial for the refrigerator/washing machine and had the whole romcom movie act to catch the viewer off guard. It was a great commercial, but I haven't been able to find it online. I want to show it to some friends, so I hope someone knows what I'm talking about and helps me out!
For you guys to understand what happened, I think I may let you know I’m female and I’m eighteen. My name’s Rosie.
Me and my sister were home alone that night. My parents usually let her in my care but only daytime. At night we rarely were alone. See, I live in a small apartment (that only has two rooms, one living room and one kitchen) somewhere in the world amid all the small apartments that exists (I’m not sure if I should give you tips of where I live, so, l won’t; and to soften that I’ll just make funny smartass comments), and the street where it is located is empty all the time, except for one or two residents walking for their safe home.
During the day, we (my father, mother, sister and I) are not threatened by the thought of being robbed, being assaulted, raped or even being killed. But when the moon shows up we sometimes can’t sleep – some time ago, the rumors of some guy climbing windows and entering apartments scared the shit out of us, and it was still pretty much present in our minds.
So… you can imagine that me and my sister were a little bit concerned about that, but we just chose not to listen to that part of our heads and started doing other things – use the computer, watch some TV, dance (we love to dance by ourselves watching youtube tutorials) and play games. You know, the usual stuff.
About 9 pm she was at our room and I was in the living room, watching something on youtube and just navigating online. I must say English is not my native language, so I’m sorry if I make too much mistakes. My father introduced me to English when I was little and I was so passionate about it that I made my life mission to learn as much as possible and practice as much as I could. Anyway, English may not be my native language but I do love to write in both of them. That being put, I was reading about tips to write well or improve your writing when the intercom rang. At first, I wasn’t scared at all; indeed, I was really pissed of by the fact it was 9 pm and someone was calling us, probably by mistake or just a Jehovah’s witness. I answers “Yes?” and the person didn’t respond back.
“Hello? Is someone there?”, I insisted, the angry being replaced by a tiny feeling of terror. “I’m going to hang up”, I again said, and just when I was about to take the intercom away of my ear I heard a man’s voice saying “Don’t”. The male’s voice was so deep and intense it got me paralyzed. I just stood there for two seconds, appreciating his voice like it was something really beautiful – and somehow it was --, until I got the imaginary balls to say “Who is this?”. He answers me with a laugh and silence took place. While I got confused, I was imagining (don’t know why) his face with a sadistic smile on it. The image gave me shivers. Bad shivers. “I really need to know who is this, otherwise I’m gonna hang up”, I said, mentally wondering why I haven’t done it yet. “My name is not important, miss. What is precisely essential is you. You will open this door right now and I’m gonna go upstairs and we will chat”. More shivers.
“I won’t open anything for you. And you better get out of here, my parents are here and we will call the police if you continue to disturb us” My voice failed a bit and the man laughed again, probably thinking I was and idiot for saying that. I’m fucked, a thousand times fucked. I just signed my passport to hell, and my sister’s to heaven.
“Girl, you think I’m joking? I’m not, I can guarantee. Don’t fuck with me. Open the door” I decided I was talking with him for too long, and it was time to hang up. And I did it.
I live on the first floor. We can hear all that happens down the lobby and all that happens with our neighbors (all of them, from floor one to floor three), and this particular thought brought me peace.
I started hearing slight knocks that quickly turned into hard punches to the first glass door downstairs. I locked all the locks (redundant, I know, but I couldn’t find other words to describe it) my door had and picked up my dog, delivered it to my sister and told her to stay quiet and lock the door. “If you can” I added “Push this furniture to the door. Block the door with it” and she nodded, scared. “What’s happening?”, she asked me. “I don’t have the time to tell you now. Call our parents and stay here”. She did what I asked her to do and I went to the living room again, turning all the lights off and standing in front of the door, looking through peephole.
. I wasn’t seeing anything but I continued to hear the punches. At some point, the punched ceased and, again, silence took place. I continued quiet – I always had that response to fear. I stay quiet and don’t make a noise, thinking it may be my best chance to survive. Fortunately, my sister were doing the same thing.
I think five minutes passed until I heard a loud explosion. Okay, it was not an “explosion”, but it sound like one. It was a burst, certainly. I looked through the peephole again and saw the lights at the lobby switch on. “Fuck”, I thought with myself, “I should’ve blocked the main door with the couch. I am making mistakes that could be avoided”.
Two seconds after that I saw the man standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at my door, but it felt more like he was looking for me. He started climbing so slowly, as if he was acting in slow motion. The panic shows up and, before I even noticed, I run and start pushing the couch to the door. The distance wasn’t long. I climb the sofa and look again. He is smiling, looking at the door, now at the top of the stairs. I search for something sharp enough to injure me and my sister on his hands and I don’t find it.
The air stuck on my lungs finds their way out and my heart start pumping normal again. But he’s still there, looking at my soul with his dissimulate smile and his head turned to the side a little. It resembled me a dog when it finds something it can’t comprehend – a very nervous and creepy dog. I search my pocket for my phone and text my parents. “Please, come home. There’s a creepy guy in front of our door. I can’t get rid of him”.
”. I waited for the reply to arrive watching every move of the guy. He wasn’t moving, but I had to keep looking. I had to keep surveilling. Against my will, but certain we needed help, I decided to call my neighbor, two old ladies who lived next to me. They were adorable.
I went to the kitchen, grabbed the intercom and called them. They didn’t answer me. I was starting to be afraid again, but decided to keep the fear aside. I found again my way to the living room and looked again into the peephole. He wasn’t there anymore. The fear was resurging from my guts and it left a bitter taste in my tongue.
What would I do? What should I do? I was home, alone, with my young sister. It was my duty to protect her. I couldn’t let some stranger enter, I couldn’t be that afraid. If I let the fear take control of me, I would be paralyzed and, soon, dead. Lost in my own incompetence, I remember that was another door in my apartment, the kitchen’s door. I went there and looked.
. The guy was standing there, looking at the external kind of gate, looked by a padlock. I breathed, relieved, because there was a padlock there. The guy joined his fingers as in a punch and hit the padlock, breaking it.
After that, everything’s a blur. I only remember glances: me pushing the refrigerator to in front of the door, me screaming for help, me against the refrigerator, feeling him kicking the door. I don’t know how we got out of this situation, I really don’t. But we did it – my sister’s okay, our parents refuse themselves to let us alone, and I have to see my psych to get rid of those horrible moments.
Part 1: ABBY Part 2: FOOLED Part 3: JUDGEMENT Part 4: SLOB Part 5:PALACE
I’d given the excuse at work the day before that I had been having family issues. Mystery diagnosis with my mother in the hospital, they didn’t ask any questions and I ended up using some accumulated personal days. I was now getting paid to sit at home and wait for the next demonic herald to summon me to Hell, emphasis on “wait”.
It had been bad enough the day before with only a little hope and still 6 trials awaiting me, however today the wait was even worse. It was like waiting through the weekend for a Monday morning job interview. A seven minute stretch felt like a half hour. A week seemed to stretch between breakfast and lunch. In fact I often skip lunch, now I was eating to pass the time. I took a walk but the four blocks I circumvented only killed 22 minutes, my subconscious made me walk faster as if that would help.
Obviously reading would have been a wonderful idea if I’d been able to focus on anything other than nightfall. Ironically I did contemplate cracking open A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens as I noticed life imitating art in my current predicament, but immediately felt a pang of jealousy towards Ebenezer scrooge. Lucky bastard had an ordeal only lasting one night, with three ghosts. I’d like to see that rich miezer take on a demon.
I was on the verge of thinking I’d actually lost the night before and my own personal Hell was now waiting indefinitely to be torn apart by demons. The anxiety got worse as the minutes begrudgingly unfolded into hours as I knew at any moment I’d be taken. Who would come for me this time?
Another animal headed human, or maybe a human headed animal again. Maybe tonight would be the night Cthulhu came and tore the roof off my apartment. After being thrown out a window and yanked through a mouse hole I found it safe to assume that Demons didn’t care much for doors.
With that thought I ended up realizing that, although Hell did not work on the same principles of earth as far as physics and biological possibilities went, if it DID have rules of Its own I may be able to exploit them. In literature a vampire could not enter the home unless invited in, could these demons not enter my apartment by regular means? It was a possibility I couldn’t quite use to my advantage, but it was a start.
I walked to my computer to do some searching. But it ended up overwhelming my mind, it was like trying to diagnose an automobile malfunction or find parenting advice. There wasn’t one good answer anywhere.
One website ended up telling me I could keep demonic spirits away by using salt, another tried to claim that demons were actually time travelers or aliens. There was Hell described as a watered down version of what I’d seen, entire comedic articles by people speculating their own personal hell, Hell being described as nothing but darkness surrounded by the cries of loved ones, Hell being the same as heaven, Hell not existing at all.
I laughed at that one, if Hell didn’t exist I was in need of medication, possibly institutionalization and major psychological evaluation. However with every crazy theory I came across I was able to strike off anything that was implausible, though they were mainly things I wouldn’t have thought of in the first place.
The final thing I found was a site on demonology. It covered a wide range of religions and folklore throughout the ages. Needless to say I had no time to browse it now, so I copied the URL to my desktop for later. I looked at the clock. It was just past six, something would be arriving soon.
But maybe there was some sort of link between all the demons I had faced so far and had yet to encounter. There was undeniable differences between Acedia and Avaritia that screamed for attention. Acedia was sluggish and wore nothing, but Avaritia had been fully clad and had been able to move relatively fast regardless of his lumbering gait.
The thought stopped dead in my mind as a noise from the other room rang out through the apartment. It was a thump, loud and hollow. I reluctantly left my desk to investigate.
It rang out again, the change in volume proving that I was getting closer. I walked slowly forward and glanced into the bathroom, nothing was out of place and it was vacant. Not in there.
Thump! Closer yet.
I rounded the corner into my kitchen. The thumping came again, and I could see my refrigerator visibly lurch forward.
“Don’t open it.” My gut told me.
I had to. I was the idiot that had signed on for this. My hand stretched forward, seeming as if it were being controlled by somebody else. I tightened my grip on the handle and inhaled deeply. I didn’t want to know, I shouldn’t have to do this.
Gently I tugged on the handle and the entire door flung open violently, crashing against the cabinets beside it. I screamed and reeled backwards, trying hard not to throw up or pass out. The sobs came automatically as I crumpled to the floor. The thing inside the refrigerator was the worst I’d seen yet. Disgusting, oozing, twitching, covered in mold and grotesquely decayed. However it wasn’t just the sight, it was the smell. The moment it hit me I vomited.
Inside the refrigerator was what I’m assuming had been two, or possibly three corpses. It was as if they had been improperly mummified and never dried out. Limbs intertwined and stuck together by gelatinous flesh. Bloated portions stretched skin into translucency, the organs beneath pulsed and gurgled sickeningly. I’m no expert in human biology, but I knew those organs were not supposed to be the color they were presented in.
Slightly offset from the center of the visceral puree was a human head, covered in green and black fuzz and missing an eye. The remaining eye made contact with me and the horrible face smiled at me. I began to plead although I knew I could not stop this nightmare.
“No!”
The head let out a deep gurgle that I assumed was laughter. Without warning it began to twist and wiggle as if trying to move. I pulled open the cabinet next to me and brushed an assortment of pots and pans onto the floor, luckily one frying pan among them seemed as if it would make a suitable weapon.
The center of the vile conglomerate spread open and a feeble hand emerged. The greedily clasping piece of anatomy came for me, propelled on a long and equally feeble multi segmented arm. Before it could grab me I swung the pan, easily knocking the mutated appendage away.
I hadn’t noticed more gaps opening in the moldy corpse orgy, each of which had a similar prehensile limb. It was as if I were Heracles fighting the many headed hydra, the only difference being the hero in that mythology had a real weapon, and the strength of a demigod.
One of the hands snaked beyond my range and whipped back to grasp my wrist. For being so thin and seemingly fragile, its grip was unbreakable. I twisted and jerked only to have my own arm violently bent back towards me. The pan I’d been holding collided with my face and stars exploded in my vision. Another hand grabbed the pan and flung it aside. Well this was going to happen one way or another.
I was now bound like the sailor Gulliver by corpse hands on snake like arms. One of the hands not gripping me reached upwards and opened the freezer door. My kitchen filled with hellish red light. I was lifted off the ground and fed into the compartment that had once been filled with more perishable food but was now clearly yet another portal to another plane of existence. The red light engulfed me and the familiar pins and needles broke out all over my body. Then there was the equally familiar cracking sound and all at once the sensation was gone.
I found myself free of the score of hands that had brought me into this place, and it seemed as if I had arrived into this world by a refrigerator the same way I’d left my own world through one.
The appliance that had acted as the doorway this time stood in a small dank room surrounded by others much like it. However, the doors to the other refrigerators were open and overflowing with all types of food.
Baked goods, pastries, raw meat, cooked meat, rotten meat. Everything edible or had once been edible was halfhazardly crammed into these hulking ice boxes. The only exit to this room was at the top of a wooden staircase, I seemed to be in the food cellar of a person who didn’t understand the basic principles of food storage.
After a few moments in complete silence only broken by the gentle humming of the refrigerators around me there was a loud creak at the top of the stairs. The door was opening and somebody was coming down. I froze where I was standing, of course whatever had just entered the room had seen me, and even if they hadn’t there was nowhere to hide. Surprisingly the being that now descended the staircase was a man.
He was nude, malnourished, he staggered as he walked. At his side he held a round silver object that seemed to be a tray or platter of some sort. When he got closer I noticed his mouth. It was red and swollen, most likely infected, I realized it was stitched shut.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the staircase he looked at me and made a noise that I assume was an attempt to communicate. When I didn’t respond he turned to one of the mounds of food and began to pile it on the tray. There was no order to it, no rhyme or reason, he simply tossed handful after handful of the slop onto the plate and then began to exit the room once more via the staircase.
This man wasn’t the demon I was here to see, he was nothing but a mortal who could barely walk. It didn’t take much critical thinking to deduce he was being punished for something, working around food with his mouth sewn shut. Poor bastard.
I followed him up the stairs. He paused to look back at me but gave no reaction. I made the assumption that he deserved this punishment, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, he was a broken man, a broken spirit. He was not eager to reach his destination with the plate of food, but he didn’t linger as he knew it would make no difference.
He opened the door atop the staircase and I let him leave completely, closing the door behind him as he went. With a deep breath I went along too, opening the door and finding myself in a kitchen.
A Kitchen! An armory of creativity! There were more sewn up humans all around me, all preparing food like clockwork. The food they made was thrown into bowls and onto plates and then carried out of the room. A woman walked past me holding a bucket of shrimp and what appeared to be egg whites and entered the door to the room I had just left.
I searched around empty countertops and saw exactly what I’d been hoping for- Knives. I grabbed a large pot and began tossing any scattered knives I found into it. I was even lucky enough to come across a meat tenderizing hammer. It was covered in blood and chunks of raw meat, but it would still be effective I imagined.
With my pot of weaponry I walked through a large door that led out of the room, and immediately dropped it when I saw what was occupying the next area.
Whatever it was, was not human. I expect something human to show some sort of masculine or feminine qualities, and this thing had neither. Further more, in order to consider any sort of being human I would expect the organism be bipedal, where as the monstrosity at the other end of the room had four legs positioned at equal intervals around its base. The four legs were covered in thin, coarse hair and creased deeply between rolls of fat. Between each of the legs hung even more fleshy pouches of blubber that had long ago given up hope of clinging to any skeletal structure.
I wondered why the creature even had legs. Sure, four legs would help carry the monstrosity around better than two would, but even four had a limit. I hadn’t noticed at first but the creature actually sat on a fancy stool that was barely visible beyond the excess girth. In order to understand just what the body was like you need to imagine the ten most obese people in history and then cram them into one body.
The torso was also covered in every feature you would imagine a morbidly obese person having. Love handles, rolls, saddle bags, spare tires, a muffin top, it was all there. Above every other lard based landmark were to massive sagging breasts that would make even Uncle Fatso cringe. Hell, this creature could probably eat three Uncle Fatsos and still have room for dessert.
It’s no surprise that the creature never even noticed me enter as it was too busy shoveling handfuls of food into its enormous maw. With every bite the fat on its arms would swing wildly and slap against other hanging rolls.
The room was filled with the most nauseating sounds of consumption. Lip smacking, the slurp and pop of somebody licking their fingers, belches, gurgles, and the overzealous moans of somebody enjoying a good meal a little too much.
All around me the stitched people rushed in and out of the room, bringing in more food and then presumably returning to retrieve or make more. The area in front of the demon was so overcrowded with food I hadn’t even noticed that it was sitting on a table. I regained my composure and began to gather the items I’d dropped with the demon addressed me.
“Hey, you must be lover boy!” He shouted, barely understandable through his mouth which was still stuffed full.
I didn’t answer. “Lover boy”, was that my official nickname now?
“You’re the sap who’s going to be my new servant, and you’re bringing me my special meal too right? The girl?”
I pulled out one of the larger knives and clenched it tightly, “So that’s your plan?”
He gestured with his massive arm towards me, “You going to stab me? Is that your plan?”
He let out a hearty laugh as large chunks of food erupted from his mouth and every roll on his body jiggled.
“It seemed to work on your friend Avaritia!” I shouted across the room.
This caused him to stop laughing.
“Avaritia? You defeated him?”
“Defeated him, impaled him, crushed him, and then put a hole in his head.”
The large demon began to laugh harder, quaking in his skin.
“What a fool!”
I climbed up onto the table which was barely visible underneath the scattered food and began to walk towards the large demon. I kept my burning gaze on him as I approached. Suddenly there was a loud scream and I wheeled backwards until I ended up falling lamely on my ass.
The scream had come from just underneath me. I looked over and quickly realized what had happened. There was a man bound to a board. Unlike the other people in this place his mouth was not sewn closed, and his stomach and chest were torn open to expose his innards. I hadn’t been looking and had ended up stepping inside the man’s guts. Shredded entrails still hung around the soul of my shoe, plastered there by partially coagulated blood.
“Walking on the table was rude enough, you didn’t need to step in my food!” the demon scolded.
“You’re disgusting!” I responded, unsure of just how I had formed words in the shocked state I was in.
He laughed again and grabbed another handful of food. Squish, slap, crunch.
“That’s how your precious Maggie is going to end up!” He shouted through a mouthful of food.
I felt my whole body tighten. Did every demon here have a plan already? Were they so sure I would fail to rescue her that they were thinking ahead? Acedia expected to use her for his own sexual purposes, Avaritia had planned to cast her into molten bronze, but this one, this one was going to eat her alive.
“Abby!” I growled through my teeth, “You sick fuck, her name is Abby and she won’t be ending up like this!”
I stepped closer and threw the knife I’d been holding before reaching into the pot and throwing two more. The first and third knife bounced off his bare flesh, but the second had stuck roughly two inches in, this did nothing but cause him to laugh. I was frustrated now. I began to walk forward as food squished beneath my feet. When the demon noticed the foot prints I was leaving his laughter ceased abruptly.
“Mortal, you’ve had your fun, now get off the table.”
I paused and looked back at the food I had destroyed.
“I’m sorry, did I ruin your food you fat sack of shit?”
I took another step, deliberately stepping on some sort of open faced sandwich. He cringed and gestured towards me.
“Would you useless fools do something?”
He was talking to his servants, the things he planned on turning me into if I happened to lose to him. They all stopped what they were doing and began to walk feebly towards me. I began to laugh at the attempt, they were so small and had been broken long ago. There was nothing they could do to stop me.
I began to stomp around more. The demon before me turning from pale white to red and beginning to sweat even more profusely. The servants began to throw themselves onto the table and close in around me. As they got closer I began to push them away as I destroyed the food around me. In their attempts to stop me they ended up crushing even more of the delicacies at our feet. The table began to shake beneath us as the demons anger caused him to pound on the end.
Another idea popped into my head. I reached down and grabbed a large chunk of meat, a large turkey leg it seemed to be, and I took a bite out of it. He responded by screaming as if he had been the one who’d been taken a bite out of.
“Stop him dammit!”
Clearly he didn’t like other people messing with is food, and he really hated other people enjoying it, which explained a few things.
Explained a few things…
I smiled wildly as another idea came into focus. I dropped the pot full of knives and grabbed the most accessible one with my free hand. One of the servants, a woman, was closing in on me. I swiped out at her with the knife in my hand. The first time I missed and cut just below her eye. I got in closer and slashed twice more, this time I was more accurate as I jammed the blade deeply into the swollen mess that had once been a mouth.
The stitches gave way as she opened her atrophied jaw and cried. An odor that had been fermenting inside her head for who knows how long escaped and assaulted my nostrils. The moment her mouth opened she fell forwards into a mound of food and began to indiscriminately shovel the feast in, unable to stop herself as her crippling hunger was put to rest.
The room shook again as the fat demon roared, now stomping his quartet of feet like pistons on the floor. Another malnourished soul grabbed my arm with the turkey leg in an attempt to subdue me. I easily brushed him away and slashed with the knife, this time accidently carving out an eye in an attempt to slice open the stitches. After three more swings he reached up and pried his own mouth open by the hole I’d created. Some stitches snapped while others tore open flesh as the swollen mound became a mouth once again. He let out a whimpering laugh before falling into a pile of food and stuffing himself.
Now the damned were rushing from inside the kitchen, though it was hard to tell if it were to help their master’s cause or to be liberated. As they approached me I sliced their stitches and they immediately fell back to devour the mountains of food that had been put out for my gluttonous host.
One man I assumed was relatively new to the ordeal as he still sported a bit of a belly. After I cut his mouth free he thanked me before kneeling and eating a bit more modestly. I was no longer keeping track of how many I’d freed, however food was disappearing faster and the crowd began moving towards the head of the table. One person who was shriveled past the point of recognition came too close and was snatched up by the fat arm of the domains master. He savagely crammed the human’s top half into his mouth and tore it away with one bite, flinging blood and shredded entrails across the table top as he pulled the legs free.
A hand fell upon my shoulder, it was another woman. She pointed at her mouth and I obliged. I was thanked with a twisted smile before she fell forwards as all the tortured souls had before her.
Spots of wood began showing through the mess at my feet. Some people were beginning to lick crumbs and smaller morsels from the surface of the table. As the food depleted further more people were forced to the head and devoured by the pinnacle of obesity that sat there. As he picked off one person after another many of his former servants now turned on him and assaulted him with their newly returned orifices. Among the struggle the demon reached downwards and retrieved a large bell that I hadn’t noticed sitting next to him. When he rang everybody froze and began to scramble off the table which was now almost empty.
Many people attempted to run back towards the kitchen when a swarm of creatures erupted from the doorway. They were much like the demons that I had seen the night before in Avaritia’s palace, however these had arms instead of legs and their tails where thicker.
They loped forwards on their mobility granting arms and using their tails to grant them further leverage. Some crawled around the door frame and scaled the walls before plunging onto the disobedient servants. My heart dropped as one snapped it’s almost completely featureless head towards me and barred its teeth. So far I had been under the impression that the people who had been doomed to spend eternity in this place had never thought to free themselves because they had been broken both mentally and spiritually to the point where revolting against their master was unthinkable. I now realized that the real reason was because of these demons, the overzealous police force of Hell. They kept the people here from cutting the stitches the same way their armless cousins kept people from escaping with their effects in Avaritia’s palace.
The demon that had been fixated on me began to slowly crawl towards me. Quickly it was joined by others, many of which were holding large archaic looking bone needles. Their intentions where obvious. I began to back away from them as they approached and I quickly realized that had been a mistake.
All at once a large hand wrapped around my torso. Pain shot through my chest as I’m sure ribs cracked. I cried out to the best of my ability and began to stab and the hand with the knife I still held. The grip loosened and I fell momentarily before being grabbed by the other hand around the thighs. I began stabbing again but this time he endured the pain and I was launched forward into the gaping mouth of the obese demon. I was face down on a slippery tongue and oriented towards an abysmal gullet. A set of fingers gripped my calf and attempted to push me further into the mouth as my legs still dangled freely.
I twisted and wriggled furiously to turn myself around, all the while still striking out with my knife and stabbing deeply into the moist tongue flesh. I was so invested in freeing myself that I almost didn’t notice the space getting darker or the pressure on my mid thigh.
The snap came so suddenly I didn’t realize what had happened at first, until I felt my leg flapping freely inside the creature’s mouth. My leg had been bitten off. I could feel myself losing blood. My femur was splintered and the pain raced through my body like lightning. I screamed loudly, I had been so close to winning.
I saw myself with a mouth swollen and infected, held shut by thick stitches. I saw myself standing feebly in a kitchen and carving open Abby for consumption by the same demon that had devoured me. Abby would be screaming on the table the same way that man had been before, the man whose open chest cavity I had stepped in.
Well, two out of seven demons wasn’t bad I suppose.
This thought filled my mind as I began sliding backwards. I could hear the distorted laughter coming from the demon thinking he’d won. Those tremors shook me back into reality.
Two out of seven demons was unacceptable. I could feel the demon laughing, I was aware of his thoughts, I wasn’t defeated yet. I still had the knife.
Light entered the mouth again and my disembodied leg was thrown in on top of me. I eagerly grabbed it and pointed it downward, shattered bone end first. The shards sunk into the tender flesh at the back of the demons throat. He gagged loudly as the muscles loosened. The leg slipped sideways as his tongue hoisted my lower half upwards. I balanced precariously on the limb but toppled over sideways. I was now sliding foot first down the creature’s esophagus. The lining of this organ made an easy target for my knife as I sliced a vertical laceration down the back of his throat. More gagging, more muscles loosening to allow the offending morsels easier passage. I shoved my stump leg forward and braced myself against the sides. The walls shuddered loud heaving sounds echoed from below me. All at once the space I occupied clenched violently as a high pressure stream of vomit blasted me upwards like a fire hose. The feeling of this is something I refuse to go into detail over for the sake of myself and anybody reading this. I ended up being forced backwards and found myself lodged from the waste up into an unfamiliar area. The vomit that had forced me here still sprayed upwards and raced across my legs. I realized then that I was now being forced too far backwards, I was entering the demon’s nasal cavity. This would work nicely.
Below me I felt spasmodic blasts of air soaring upwards and short bursts of suction as the demon struggled to breathe through his fit of gastral evacuation. I placed my hands on the sturdiest internal structure I could find and heaved my good leg between them. I quickly realized my missing leg was actually a blessing in disguise as the splintered bone protruding from the end helped cling to the mucous lined walls as I climbed upwards until the area around me became too cramped to allow further passage. I jammed my leg deep and began cutting all around me. I had no idea where I was in relation to any exits, but I imagined my presence inside the demon’s body was bad news for him either way.
That’s when he began thrashing. I could feel the motion but was not affected in any way apart from getting a bit dizzy. My skin and clothing began to get slippery as I was drenched in an unknown amount of various bodily fluids. Loud ripping sounds like fabric being torn sounded every time I dragged my knife through an intact piece of tissue. I could even feel what I assumed were chunks of fat sliding through the openings as I created them. This biological mudslide caused seizures of coughing and pressure below me as the demon struggled in vain to pull me downwards, however this only caused my stump leg to dig deeper and hold me more firmly.
This violent fluctuation in pressure caused ragged tissue to be torn away and get sucked downwards. How much damage did I need to do in order for this hellish fiend to finally die? Acedia had been beheaded, Avaritia had been stabbed in the eye. Deep in the eye.
The brain! Could a demon function without a brain? There was only one way to find out. I plunged my hands into the mess of gore in front of me until I felt what I was looking for, the spine.
I pulled myself close to it and began sawing away. I was thrown back and forth more violently as something burst against my hands. I heard a loud roar of anguish as my progress became apparent. I was doing the damage I had hoped for.
The area I had removed was large enough to loop my good leg through. I struggled for a moment before I was able to pull myself through and end up plastered against the swaying mound of bone. Better yet the tissues around me gave way easier than they had before. I plunged the knife deep and dim light shown through onto my face. I wriggled through the hole and found myself sticking out of the base of the demon’s neck. With my good leg still wrapped around the spine I leaned forwards and cut away the sweaty flesh to expose more of the vertebra.
Over my head the chunky hands waved around to dig me out. However the arms they were attached to lacked the flexibility to reach me. I laughed at the struggle as I brought the knife down one last time and broke open another disk. It covered me with lubricating fluids as it burst. I stuck my knife in a spot of flesh and reached in with both hands, wrapping them tightly around the delicate spinal cord that was now exposed. The moment I arched my back and pulled upwards it snapped in my hands and the demon ceased to move all at once beyond what the gravitational forces on his body allowed.
I was along for the ride as the behemoth toppled forwards and crashed onto the table, splattering food in all directions upon impact. The room had gone as motionless as my adversary as I sat still half way enveloped in the mess of shredded muscle fiber and lacerated blubber. It was as if I had been reborn but taken a very wrong turn in the birth canal. Before I could dislodge myself I was launched across the room as the corpse violently burst below me.
I remember a story I had heard about a dead whale that had been hauled through the city streets and ended up exploding due to the gaseous buildup caused by the carcass decaying. Though I hadn’t witnessed that explosion nor truly seen the bloated corpse below me erupt I find it safe to assume the two incidences mirrored one another quite accurately.
Luckily the organic debris wasn’t enough to cause further injury to my already broken body and I hadn’t been launched violently enough to suffer from the fall. Before I could get to my feet I was rushed by remaining servants who helped me to stand on my remaining leg. I draped my arms over their shoulders and they began to carry me towards the kitchen. During this time the legless demons that had been attempting to enforce the rules of this domain scowled and hissed. To me these sounds of disapproval sounded more like fan fair as I had seemed to survive another trial, though this time just barely.
Two more servants hoisted my lower half into their arms and granted me safe passage down the stairs. I noticed that one of them still had an open mouth though in the rush of cutting the stitches I hadn’t even registered their faces. I recognized the woman to my right however as the first person I’d broken the stitches on, however she had clearly been re-stitched at some point during my attempted ingestion.
Once we cleared the bottom step they opened the door to the refrigerator that I had entered through and slowly inserted me foot first. This time as I entered the mortal realm once again the pins and needles feeling intensified once my stump leg cleared the boundaries between dimensions. Suddenly I was torn from the arms of the servants that had been holding me and launched back into my apartment. In the blink of an eye the world warped and I was falling through my refrigerator, dislodging shelves and dumping its entire contents onto the floor.
I slid in a puddle of milk from a burst gallon jug and my leg, the one that had been regenerated, shot forwards and kicked at an assortment of jars across the room. I got to my feet and leaned against my countertop. The leg was sore, but I couldn’t complain. Clearly Hell is like Las Vegas, whatever happens there stays there, and I could only hope that upon my return my leg wouldn’t be missing any longer. After all, the night before the trial of Acedia I had witnessed him being sliced open and hurled through a window only to be perfectly fine during his trial as well as my trial against him.
I looked down at myself. I was no longer covered in blood and vomit but I was still drenched in a cold sweat and covered in whatever food had been freed from its container upon my reentry. I undressed as I left the kitchen, stepping out of my pants in the passage from my living room to bathroom and began to run the shower.
The buildup of pressure in the pipes was music to my ears, as was the initial expulsion of water from the shower head. My skin tingled as tiny drops of water ricocheted from the walls and surface of the tub.
Imagine the hot shower you’ve been longing for at the end of the longest day of your life. That was this shower multiplied exponentially. Although I was no longer the mess I had been when I’d left hell the memory still clung to my mind and I could psychologically feel it on my skin still. I hit the stopper on the drain and decided against showering as I turned the dial and diverted the water flow into the main faucet. I rolled over the wall of the tub and splashed into the shallow reservoir that had accumulated so far.
I felt as if I were melting and becoming part of the water itself as every ache in my replenished leg as well as the rest of my body faded into nothing. The water continued to rise and cover more of my exposed skin. Its temperature was trivial, the comfort that came from the cleanliness that was synonymous with water could not be measured in degrees of any kind.
The tub filled until it was on the verge of overflowing and I stopped the flow with my foot. I have no idea how long I stayed in the tub this way, I was content and I could have stayed in it all night had I not been paranoid of drowning once I inevitably passed out.
No energy went into washing myself, however I still felt clean once I was submerged and curled into a fetal position. I closed my eyes and focused on the ecstasy. I didn’t think about the trial I had endured nor any trial that was yet to come. It was as if I’d ceased to exist. I’m actually sure I did nod off at one point, which caused me to begrudgingly exit the tub. As I stood up I noticed my reflection in the mirror. My skin was flushed red as I assume the water had been a bit hotter than I’d normally cared for, and I noticed the dark circle that enveloped my right eye. Black eye? Could have been worse, probably got it during the preliminary struggle with the rotten men in the fridge.
I wrapped myself in as many towels as I could pull from the cabinet and fasten to my body before leaving the bathroom. As I walked through the living room I pulled a quilt from the back of my couch, probably the cleanest piece of bedding I owned. God only knows how long it had been since I’d washed the sheets and blanket on my bed. I was clean, the last thing I wanted was to be exposed to my own filth again. I wrapped the quilt around me once I made it to my room and fell face first into my pillow. I had a fleeting thought pertaining to the state of my pillow case and contemplated pulling it off in order to rest my head on the cleaner pillow inside, however I ended up in a deep sleep before I could act on the impulse. Three trials had been completed, and I slept another dreamless night.
Hi Reddit, I hope someone here can help me. I'm starting to get a bit desperate as my fridge has started to produce lots of water and in all my attempts to dry it up, it's always wet the next day.
No matter what I do, how much weight I lose, how much I work out or how much I try to tone up... even as I get smaller I still have this fucking weird body. Flat ass, big gut - it's not just big - God I have this bulbous upper abdominal girth and it's sickening. My back is like two fat slabs hanging off of me. I've lost 50 pounds and I'm not even really overweight, I just have this weird fucking body... no hips, thick waist - all the curves of a refrigerator. It just fucking sucks no matter what I do, I look like a misshapen blob. Body go fuck yourself.
They both leak when they're fucked.
I want to start the keto diet, I've seen so many of you so successfully transform, my problem is that I don't use a fridge I travel often so it's not convenient for me or cost effective since the food spoils. I'm looking to see if anyone has a link to a post that would give me some direction or anyone that has any proper direction for me or personal ideas. My SO just left the states to visit her parents in France and I'd like to see the look on her face when she gets back in 3 months. I currently weigh about 190 and would like to get down to 160-165. Not sure if it's do able but goals are goals. Thank you for reading this and for your time!
This is an old ass drink fridge. It still works though. If you want it, you have to come maneuver it out through the back door. You'll need at least two people and some ingenuity. But in the end its free. So let me know if and when you want to come g [...]
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Good appliances, both in working condition. MUST take both !! Must be willing, and able to cart out of building. Appliances is on second floor, one flight of stairs, no elevator. Stove (about 32 inches) & refrigerator (top & bottom). Must be able [...]
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I have 5 barber chairs, 3 toilet sinks with cabinets, 3 toilet bowls, 2 bathtub glass doors, 2 turn tables, 1 refrigerator, 1 air conditioner, 1 sofa, 1desk. Call show contact info for pictures. Must liquidate them by Monday. Best offer!
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It was first person and you were locked inside a modern asylum (maybe?) where the goal was to get out. The front door was locked and I believe the end goal was to get the key that opened it.
The game was one picture at a time and you had to type commands to do stuff like "Open door" and then under where you typed that it would say, "You opened the door".
I remember one part had you look under a desk and find a mini fridge which you could put a cup of water into and you could unplug the fridge.
There were male and female orderlies guarding a door and you had to bribe them to get past.
You would turn down a specific hallway and all of a sudden there was a green monster blocking your path and you had to give him something to get past.
I didn't get too far into the game but there was no action or health bar or anything like that.
It was simply a puzzle type game that made you figure out trial-and-error style what to do to progress.
Recipe :
Shrimp Rolls
1 ounce rice vermicelli
6 rice wrappers
6 large shrimps or 12 small shrimps (peeled and cut in half)
Thai basil
Mint
Half of a cucumber
2 carrots
Peanut Dipping Sauce
2 tbsp hoisin sauce
2 tbsp smooth peanut butter
1 tbsp water
1 tsp chopped peanuts
Instructions :
Soak the rice vermicelli until tender or al dente for about 6 minutes, or according to package directions.
In a pan, boil some water. Once the water comes to a boil, add in the shrimps and cook for 2 minutes or until pink and opaque.
Remove immediately when the shrimp is cooked, drain and cool in an ice bath or refrigerator. Remove the shell and cut the shrimp lengthwise in half.
Fill a saucepan or dish with warm water, soak the rice wrapper for 3 seconds, put it on a flat surface such as your clean counter or cutting board.
Add in 2 tablespoons rice vermicelli, 2-3 strips of cucumber, several thin strips of carrots, 4-5 leaves of Thai basil, and mint. (The types of vegetables that I used are just my preference, as well as the amount. You can go ahead and choose to use any type of vegetables or herbs you like, just don't overfill or you won't be able to close them.)
Fold in the sides of the rice wrapper inwards, and then tightly roll the wrapper towards you.
Serve right away.
As a cop, you get used to hearing certain questions:
"Have you ever shot anyone?" No. I've pulled my gun three times, but never had to fire it.
"Have you ever been shot at?" No, or I would have responded in kind.
"What's the worst thing you've seen on the job?" Now there's a hell of a fucking question. I still can't believe anyone has the nerve to ask a thing like that. I should probably explain how thoughtless and insensitive it is, or tell them to screw themselves, but I just answer that one too...
I tell them about a murder scene I saw my rookie year. It was summertime, and the killing was easy. When the mercury rises, tempers get short. There was this junkie, Howie Brighton, who apparently got into an argument with his wife, Janice. He smacked her around a bit, which his arrest record showed was among his many bad habits. But that night a beating wasn't enough to satisfy him, so Howie fired a load of buckshot into Janice's face, painted a Pollack on the wall with her brains. He must have come to regret it, because he scrawled a note saying he was sorry, then ate his shotgun. More modern art on the ceiling. Unfortunately, he forgot about their twin daughters locked in the other room, so little Katie and Gina Brighton, just three years old, died of dehydration and hyperthermia in that sweltering shitbox of a house the family lived in. The whole reeking, maggot-ridden, flyblown mess was found two weeks later, and I got to spend six hours and change taking it all in.
The curious folk with all their questions pretty much love that story. Lets them look down on the poor, people of color (they always assume the Brightons were black, which they weren't), people not like them. A better man would challenge them on that.
But I'm not a better man anymore.
Anyway... Those questions I told you about; the answers I give are lies. I have shot people and been fired on too, not that there's any official reports recounting those occurrences. And the worst thing I've ever seen? With any luck, the Brighton house probably would've been it, but then Kessler arrived on the scene, and he would show me things that even the worst violence paled in comparison to.
Although, if I'm being honest - and it seems I fucking am - the mess of bodies in the Brighton house hadn't bothered me at all, not even the children, shrivelled and blackened with rot. Could have been Janie's Cabbage Patch dolls as far as I was concerned. It had started to occur to me that there might be something seriously fucked up going on in my head, because death had hit me pretty hard once upon a time, and it didn't faze me at all anymore. Sometimes I wondered if maybe after everyone I'd lost - my parents, my wife, my daughter... Janie...
Christmas week, the whole family was staying at our place. My parents, and Shelly's. Grandma. One night, the tree went up in flames, and everything and everyone followed. Except me. I was the only one left... For a year after the fire, I was useless, an open wound infected with grief. Then suddenly my immune system, or something, kicked in. I healed up, and there was nothing left of me but scar tissue. I felt nothing. Sometimes I stared at the urns containing the ashes of everyone I'd ever loved, and I almost laughed at the absurdity of having them cremated after they all burned to death...
God damn it...
Enough of that shit. Back to the crime scene.
I had needed a smoke, so I was out front taking a drag, not thinking about much, when I first saw Kessler, not that I knew his name at the time. He was a lanky, pallid wraith of a man in a charcoal suit climbing out of a black sedan that had come gliding like a shadow up the street and abruptly screeched to a stop in front of the Brighton place. I made him as in his fifties, but I was never really sure. His face was heavily lined, but not wizened with age. He had short-cropped salt and pepper hair. His eyes were a sickly shade of green and too big for his narrow face. No eyebrows though. First thing this odd fellow did was come stalking straight towards me. He looked me up and down, sizing me up from head to toe it seemed. "Were you inside?" he asked, sounding somewhat amused, though I had no idea why.
I just nodded, trying to play the strong, silent type. Back when I was young, I was so desperate to come off as tough. Solid. A Real Man.
"I hear it's rather ugly in there, and with a rancid stench," he said with a vast smirk, like a slash across his face. "Were the sights and the smells of the poor Brighton family too much for you? Did you leave for a good puke so you could purge them from your system?"
"I've got a strong stomach," I said defiantly, which was true. "I've been in that house longer than anyone." Also true. Got there at five p.m., and it was eleven when this guy showed up. "Right now I'm taking a nicotine break. So what?" Playing the tough guy again.
"So what, indeed," he laughed. "Quite right. My name is Kessler. I'm with the Health Department. You'll be accompanying me the rest of the night, officer."
"Who the fuck are you to tell me what I'm doing tonight?" I snapped.
For the first time his bemusement slipped away, and the hot summer air seemed suddenly chilly as he narrowed his eyes and sneered. "As I said, officer, I am Kessler... from the Health Department. My position empowers me to enlist any police asset I might need to carry out my duties. Tonight, you are such an asset. If you doubt my authority, I suggest you call your sergeant so he can confirm these immutable facts."
I tried to tell him to go to hell, but I was stammering like some scared kid, completely unmanned by this Nosferatu-looking son of a bitch. So I slinked away and called my sergeant. Just like I was fucking told. I started explaining the situation as best I could, when I uttered Kessler's name, and my sergeant interrupted me. "I don't want to know any more," he said nervously. "You do what he says, and whatever that is, you keep it to yourself. That's all I can tell you."
"Guy’s a fucking head case! I need some answers, goddamnit!" I yelled, and I knew I was pushing my luck with him.
There was a long moment of silence on the line before my sergeant sighed and finally answered. "Kessler was around when I was just a beat cop. He was a squint in the morgue used to freak us all out. He went MIA for a few years. When he came back, he was working for the Health Department. Had a badge of his own and a habit of nosing in on random cases. I don’t know why. No one does. Those who work with him get favored, it seems. But don’t fuck it up, 'cause it goes the other way too. Now get your ass back out there and don’t you fucking dare call me again." I had more questions, but he cut me off. "Kessler is your commanding officer now! I'm sorry... Be careful." And he hung up.
I trudged back to Kessler, standing stiffly in the same spot I left him, except now he was holding a big, bulky metallic black case with stainless steel latches at his side. It looked heavy, like something a roadie would lug equipment around in, most likely wheeling it on a dolly, but it didn't seem to weigh Kessler down any. His good humor had returned, and he flashed me a ghastly grin. "Everything is in order, I take it?" he said pleasantly.
"Yeah," I replied icily. "So what will I be doing for you?"
"Not for me," Kessler insisted, frowning absurdly and in a mournful tone. "With me. We are men on an important mission together, you and I."
"So what are we doing tonight?" I said with a frustrated sigh.
Kessler's pallid face brightened, and he smiled beamingly. His mood swings were unnerving in their swiftness and severity. "First we shall examine the corpses of the dearly departed Brighton clan."
"Why's the Health Department interested in this?" I asked. "It's just a junkie blew his wife away, then offed himself. And their kids..."
"The Health Department has no official business here," Kessler replied, "but I most certainly do."
"What kind of business?" I said dubiously.
"I can't just tell you," Kessler said. "First you must be shown." Kessler stepped past me and entered that house of horrors, and after a moment's hesitation, I did the same, resigned to following him wherever he led me, to doing whatever my duty required of me, and to making sure I was alive when morning finally came.
When we entered, Kessler stopped in the middle of the room, with a disconcerting grin on his face. He almost looked pleased. Janice Brighton’s corpse still lay slumped against the wall, her body black, blue and swollen. Her scumbag husband sat, head hanging back, or rather the little that was left of it, by the table across the room from her.
If you've ever been in the same room as a corpse gone ripe, you know the smell. If you haven't, there’s no point describing it. I hope you never have to familiarize yourself with it, but if you already have, try to imagine that stink magnified to the power of x, and you'll have some idea of what was souring the air in the Brighton house. There's a trick cops use to avoid the worst of it: we put Vick's VapoRub inside the masks we all wear at crime scenes. Covers the worst of it. Kessler didn't bother with VapoRub, or even a mask. In fact, he inhaled deeply through his nose, his head rocking gently back and his thin lips curled into a beatific smile. The stench had me wincing beneath my mask, and this freak I was stuck working for was drinking it in like the aroma of a fine wine.
"Kids are in there," I said nervously, gesturing to my left. "You, uh, might wanna put on a mask, Kessler."
He grunted dismissively and kneeled down by the entrance to the children's room. His nostrils flared rhythmically as he sniffed at the doorknob, the hinges, the crack between the door and its frame.
I heard him giggle.
"Now, officer. What I’m about to show you is need-to-know. You’re working with me now, so you need to know. But what you also need to know is that no one besides you and I needs to know. Know what I mean?"
I was about to say something, I can't even remember what, but I thought better of it and nodded instead.
"This apparatus," Kessler began, as he set down the massive case he had been carrying and pried it open, "uses a spectroscopic technique that exploits infrared light. It's rather fascinating, you see... Well, the technology isn’t the important thing here. It's what it does that matters. You see it allows us to see smells. This is for your sake, of course. I am already able to observe any odor or aroma." He must've sensed my doubt. "I have a condition called synesthesia. You can google it if you don’t believe me. It's ironic really, because I’m also what they call smell-blind."
I didn't buy that bullshit for a second, and I was going to tell him so, and to fuck himself, because I was done with him, but then he turned his contraption on, and a high-pitched, grating whine, like a dentist’s drill on meth, filled the room. I could feel it vibrating in my bones, in my teeth, in my brain, and that's when I saw them, four smoky grey shapes hovering in the room. I was vaguely aware that Kessler was still talking, but I didn't hear a word he said. To the exclusion of all else, I was focused on the... whatever they were. One was floating next to Janice Brighton, wispy tendrils reaching out to the ruin of her head, seemingly stroking her tangled, matted hair. There were two tiny spectres beside Kessler near the door to the children's room, their vaporous forms appeared to be holding hands and... whispering to each other. Then there was the apparition towering behind Howie Brighton's corpse. It wasn't like the others. It was darker and... I'm not sure how to describe it... I couldn't see it as clearly as the others, like it was flickering in and out of the visible spectrum.
I came around, emerged from my trance, when he switched the apparatus off and those shades drifted apart, dissipating like cigarette smoke in a high wind. A fragment of a song had entered my mind: One of these mornings, you’re gonna rise up singing.
Kessler's voice drifted in. "And my anosmia was the result. Since I could no longer smell after the incident in Khartoum, I looked for ways to replace what I had lost with technology. Can you imagine a world without smell, officer? It really is the most evocative of the senses. Eventually, my search led me to both the Health Department and this apparatus. After much study of its workings, I made a few... modifications, shall we say, which suited my purposes."
Kessler had suddenly developed an odd habit of tilting his head at the end each sentence, somehow making his menacing countenance even more so. He looked feral. Like a mother jackal protecting her young, or perhaps preparing to eat them. "Not only was my lost sense of smell replaced, but as you can see, there are certain tangential benefits that came from my modifications and augmentations. Everything dead has a smell, officer. Another immutable fact of the world you now find yourself in. And with this miraculous contraption, we can see those remnants of the dead floating in the ether."
I had that disorienting feeling you get when standing on the shore when the water shifts the sand under your feet. Everything was changing, rearranging around me. Things I knew to be true with rock-solid certainty were being ground to dust slipping through my fingers. I had the sense Kessler was going to say more, but I wasn’t ready for it now. I needed some time to digest what had already happened and make some semblance of sense of it.
"I need a smoke," I blurted out, voice cracking with panic. "And some more Vick's," I added, pointing at the mask covering my mouth and nose. Just saying that word - smoke - brought to mind visions of those pulsating shapes, the way one caressing Janice Brighton's hair, the pair that were so childlike, but most of all that monstrous, incomprehensible presence. I had to get out of that fucking house.
"Very well," he said with a roll of his eyes and a dismissive wave. "Five minutes, and no more." Turning to the apparatus, he hunkered his lanky frame into a half-crouch and began adjusting knobs and levers. When he slid open a chrome panel, I swear I saw the glistening pink of organs inside, something muscular moving sinuously. He shut the panel with a snap and looked at me, his sickly green eyes fixed intently on me. "When you return, officer, I’ll finish our little orientation. I have much to share, and you to learn. Until then, there's something of the utmost importance you need to consider."
"What’s that?" I asked wearily.
"Smoking kills, officer, and it ruins your sense of smell."
I headed outside that rundown hovel and stood under the eaves in front of the living room window. A light rain was falling and grayish purple thunderheads were roiling in the distance, flashes of lightning flashing in their bellies. I shook a Lucky Strike out of the pack, my last. My hands were shaking so bad, my Zippo wouldn't stay lit. It took me three tries to get my cigarette lit, and the next instant, a fat drop of rain landed right on the burning cherry, extinguishing it with a hiss. I genuinely wondered if Kessler had sent the rain to fuck with me, as I pinched off the wet end and re-lit it. He’s really gotten to me, I thought. Not just him. That shit in there. Those things... That machine... What was going on? Questions leading to more questions, replicating and dividing, metasticizing like cancer. My head wasn’t ready for this. I'd always been more of a doer than a ponderer. Dad always told me, You’ll never till a field by turning it over in your mind, and I took that to heart.
I had the feeling that everything was about to change; for better or for worse, I had no idea. That song popped into my head again, and I could hear the mournful horns accompanying the next line:
But 'til that morning, there ain't nothin' can harm you
with daddy and mammy standin' by...
Then I remembered: Mom's favorite song. Summertime by Etta James. She taught it to Janie, and the two of them would sing it together, sometimes Shelly too. But the last I'd heard Summertime, it was during the wake, and I...
I crushed out my cigarette on the cement foundation of the house, then stuck the butt in the empty pack, which I pocketed. Back inside, I found Kessler running a hand over his close-cropped hair as he preened in front of a mirror. The gesture struck me as oddly feminine. "Ah, officer," he said as his reflection's gaze turned my way. "Welcome back! I trust you are finally ready to begin in earnest?" His wan face produced a smile that stopped at his eyes.
"No," I said. "I'm not ready for this. I will never be ready for this. I have to go." I was trying not to break down in tears.
He sighed and looked down at the floor. He tapped the tip of his shoe on the dirty carpet a few times. He seemed suddenly weary, as if he'd heard this all before. "Some fear, some doubt, and... uncertainty is normal when faced with the unknown." He glanced around, eyes roving the mess of gore and filth in room.
I said nothing, just watched him. The room was still and silent, except for a low rumble of thunder from outside.
"What if I told you that your presence here, your joining me tonight in this foul and tragic place filled with pestilent vapors, is no accident? You may not want to be a part of this, but you already are, and inextricably so. A sequence of events, of causes and effects, is in motion, and you and I must see it through to its completion. If we don’t..." He trailed off, staring off into the unfocused middle distance for a second. He snapped to and looked at me. "That is not an option. Now come, I beseech you."
And so, for no reason I could fathom, I followed Kessler further into the house, wondering what he meant, what any of this meant. All I knew was that I had to find out. Kessler descended a stairway leading to the Brightons' basement, then entered the pitch black space therein.
"Officer!" he called out from a moderate distance. "I have foolishly neglected to turn on the lights, and now I'm lost in the dark... Could you, please? The switch is... or should be... to your right, just inside this room."
I rolled my eyes. Everything was a game to this guy, and yet again I was playing along. Groping blindly, it took me maybe twenty seconds to find the switch, long enough in the dark that the sudden flourescent glare made me blink.
"Gotcha!" Kessler exclaimed as I felt a jab to the ribs, and suddenly there he was, waving a device that looked like an electronic ice pick attached by a coiled cord to the spectroscopic thingamajig he was carrying.
"What the fuck?” I howled, grabbing my side. I realized there was blood soaking into my shirt.
"Sorry, officer," Kessler cackled, "but I needed a sample."
"OF WHAT?"
"Of you, obviously..."
"I'M BLEEDING GODDAMNIT!"
"'Tis but a prick, I assure-"
"YOU'RE THE PRICK, KESSLER!"
Well the moment those words left my mouth, Kessler started laughing so uproariously he literally doubled over, slapping his knees, his whole body wracked by an outrageous fit of hysterics that lasted a full minute at least, then ended abruptly when he righted himself, once again adopting his typically stiff posture. "Fair enough, officer," he said warmly. "I most definitely am a prick. But I am one of the good pricks, I promise you. Or at the very least, goodish."
"Fine," I muttered. "Why the hell did you do that?"
"Everything has their own smell, unique in color, shape, size, and... other less tangible qualities. This includes the living as well as the dead. I just uploaded your data into my device to exclude you from certain processes. As I said, what you saw is only a fraction of what it can do. It is imperative that this apparatus be able to distinguish between you and the dead surrounding you."
"Surrounding me?" I said. "What are you talking about?"
"You’ll see for yourself soon enough," Kessler replied grimly. He looked down at the device, then back to me. "Have you always kept the dead so close at hand, officer? Their ashes, I mean."
I was taken aback, my thoughts turning instantly to the urns holding Mom, Dad, Shelly, Janie, Grandma, all arranged on the mantle. But... they weren’t the only urns in my house. I had my great-grandparents and my in-laws in a storage room. The family dog was by the garage door. I had the remains of a childhood friend who had drowned one summer when I was eight. There were even urns I couldn't account for, random strangers I had somehow stolen. All of them gathered in my home, and I didn't even know why. I just needed them. I just...
"What the hell are you babbling about?" I cried.
"They cling to you, you know. Like an aroma cherished from a warm memory but that sweet scent has long since festered, and it's why I am here tonight, officer."
"My life is none of your business!" I shouted, desperate for this conversation to end. "I’m just... waiting for the right time and place to scatter the ashes," I told him, the same, familiar lie I kept telling myself.
"You have the stench of a graveyard about you. Do you know the reason we keep the dead in such places, officer?"
"No!" I snapped. "And I don’t care either!"
"We are meant to let go of the dead, to bury them, to entomb them, to scatter their ashes, to separate from them, for their good and our own."
"No!" I shrieked.
"You, though... You are different."
"No," I sobbed, and without even realizing it, I had drawn my gun and it was aimed at Kessler's center mass. My hand was trembling, but my aim was unwavering, and my finger was on the trigger, squeezing not quite hard enough to fire.
"Why are you doing this, officer?" Kessler asked, his voice fearless.
"I... don't know..."
"Because something has taken hold of you, officer," he said. "And that thing has finally figured out that I'm here to free you!" With lightning speed, Kessler's arm whipped out, hurling his massive, metallic black case at me. I fired my weapon just as it struck me like a wrecking ball to the torso. My shot went wild, and I was sent flying across the room. I landed hard on my back, saw the apparatus sailing overhead, then heard it crash against the wall behind me. The copper tang of blood was in my mouth. I tried to sit up, but I felt cracked ribs scraping, so I laid back down. I was amazed to realize I still had my gun. Couldn't think straight, but it didn't matter. I was going to kill Kessler.
kill him...
burn him...
keep his ashen remains...
But I... I couldn't... I would not do that.
That wasn't me...
There was no me... Not anymore... Hadn't been for the longest time...
The truth was, I should have died that night... with my family... I should have stayed with them...
"It's never too late to die," I whispered. Tucking my service weapon under my chin, I shut my teary eyes tight, hoping they might open to find Shelly and Janie, and they could take me away with them to the other side of the world. If there was one. I didn't know anymore, but I was ready to find out...
That's when Kessler grabbed my gun from me with such force he broke seven bones in my hand and three of my fingers, and I passed out from the pain.
When I came to, I found myself handcuffed to a pipe connected to a broken waterheater. For the first time since I'd entered the basement, I really took in my surroundings - the grimy, litter-strewn floors; dilapidated and rusted out refrigerators, washers, dryers and assorted appliances lining and stacked up against the mildewed cinderblock walls. Kessler was there too, out of reach of course, his back to me as he hunched over his device to tinker with it. "Good morning, officer," he said, somehow knowing that I was awake even though I hadn't moved or made a sound. "Your breathing sounds different when you're unconscious," he added, answering my question before it had even formed in my foggy brain.
"How-"
"Approximately an hour," he replied, then giggled girlishly.
"Stop doing that!" I snapped. "What... What are you doing?" My head cleared a little more, and I felt my shattered hand throbbing dully, too numb to feel the pain of the injury.
"I am repairing the last of the damage suffered by my apparatus when I tossed it at you," Kessler said. "That was unfortunate. But you left me no choice, wouldn't you say?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't-"
"No need for apologies, officer," he said, and for the first time there was only sincerity in his voice. "The wretched parasite that's latched on to you took over in that crucial moment when you shot at me, but you regained control afterwards. Granted, your exercise of free will led you to attempt suicide, but still, bravo. Allow me to offer my own unnecessary apology, for in my haste to prevent your foolish act of self-destruction, I rather mangled your hand."
"You should have just let me die."
"It's never too late, remember?" Kessler said. "There's no hurry. Everyone gets around to dying eventually, I assure you. In the meantime, there's a rather obvious corollary to what you said."
"What's that?"
Kessler practically sang his response: "It's never too late to start living again, of course!"
I just had to laugh, that he of all the people I'd ever met, would say something like that. "So what's next? An exorcism?"
Something clicked and whirred and... squelched in the case containing Kessler's apparatus, and he stood up and finally turned to face me, a satisfied smile plastered across his ghoulish face. "All fixed," he said. "What was that, an exorcism? In effect, I suppose, but there's none of the entertaining pageantry. I work with science, not superstition. My apparatus is going to pull the horrid creature that's tethered itself to you, pull it like a rotted tooth and grind it to dust so it never troubles you or anyone else again."
"You planned this didn't you, Kessler?" I said. "You made sure I was dispatched here, all so you could get at this thing inside me."
"I did," he replied mischievously. "I knew a scene of such carnage and misery would distract it, for a while, at least. Not all went according to plan, though. There certainly wasn't supposed to be any gunplay. The whole 'trying to kill me' phenomenon was a surprise, as was the 'trying to kill yourself' debacle. None of that's ever happened in this sort of situation before. This beast is unusually tenacious. But no matter; the beast is about to be bested. But first..."
"What?"
"First, you have to see it, truly see it, so that you may truly understand it."
"All right then," I said. "I'm ready."
"I am going to activate my apparatus, now," Kessler said, and he turned away from me, crouching down to attend to that machine of his.
I heard the clicks and clacks of toggles and dials, then came the return of that keening whine, pitched even higher and rattling my bones more furiously before, and now the beast appeared, standing before me, a dark golem of roiling filth, like an army of maggots squirmed from an oil slick and coalesced into the shape of a man. The sight of it sickened me, and I realized that's what it was - sickness made manifest. But worst of all, I saw now, was the pulsing, twining tendrils emerging from all over its wretched, and all of them stretched toward me and anchored to my chest, sinking into my flesh to the very center of my being. I swiped at them, desperate to get them off of me, out of me, but my flailing hands passed through those spectral chains like they weren't there. But now I felt their grip on my very soul, and I began sobbing at this horror that had taken hold of me, that had been a part of me for God only knew how long.
"LOOK AT HIM!" Kessler screamed.
"I am..." I whimpered.
"LOOK AT HIM, YOU FOUL CREATURE!"
And that rancid, malformed approximation of a man slowly congealed, slouching and slithering closer and closer, until finally it was hovering inches from me and the rancid, wriggling clump of disease that served for a head twisted around, and suddenly I was face to face with it.
And that face was mine, crudely sculpted upon a mound of living shit, but unmistakably mine. Its features were an emotionless blank, but there was malevolence oozing from the empty hollows where eyes should be.
I heard Kessler's voice, gentle as I never imagined it could be. "Do you understand it now?" he asked.
"I couldn't let them go... of my family... and this thing, it..."
"Go on, officer," Kessler encouraged me.
"It took root inside me," I sobbed, "and fed on me and my grief and used it to control me... but..."
"Yes?"
"This thing... is me... gone rotten..."
Suddenly the wailing of the apparatus ceased and the pile of filth that was a twin conjoined to me vanished from sight, and I found myself shivering, soaked with sweat, catching my breath. Kessler was there looking down at me. "That... that thing is me..." I gasped.
Kessler dropped to his knee and put a firm hand upon my shoulder. "Only a part of you," he said. "How would you like to kill it with me?"
"What do I do?" I asked.
"Not much actually. It will be somewhat anti-climactic from this point on. Just the press of a button really. The process will hurt, certainly, but you'll pass out the moment the agony begins. Although, you'll still be in a considerable amount of pain when you wake, so I suppose-"
"Enough talk," I said. "Let's just get it over with."
Kessler dragged the tip of a slender finger across his lips. He then offered me a mouthguard, like mental patients wear during electro-shock therapy, which I took and clenched between my teeth. After that, he held out a pair of ear plugs, which I took and inserted. Finally he reached out and placed a bulky pair of welder's goggles on my face, adjusting them until they were snug and secure.
That left me alone in silence and darkness, a solitary place where the hauntings and horrors I'd seen were gone. I was at peace, content to stay there as long as it took for the nightmare to be over. Suddenly I felt Kessler's hand on mine, and then a cold, smooth, metal cylinder in my palm. I explored the object with my thumb. At one end was a cord, presumably leading to the apparatus, and at the other a button, and the instant I knew it was there, I pressed it.
A week later, I woke up in a hospital bed. They'd put my hand in a cast, and my ribs were taped up. I had a morphine drip, but there wasn't a part of me that didn't ache like it had been pounded on with a ballpeen hammer. If I tried to move, my joints burned like hot coals sewn up inside me. Nevertheless, I felt good. There had been a weight dragging me down, and now it was gone, and I was light as a feather. I spent another month recovering in that bed. All the while, I was waiting for Kessler to check up on me, but he never showed up. I kept wishing he would. I had so many questions for him, but most of all, I wanted to thank him.
On my last day in the hospital, I received a heart-shaped box of chocolates, the cheap kind you'd buy as a last-minute gift on Valentine's Day. It came with a note:
Officer,
I'm overjoyed to hear that your convalescence has finally come to a conclusion. In preparation of your happy homecoming, I have taken the liberty of removing the various urns and other vessels containing ashes of the deceased from your residence. Have no fear, your loved ones' remains are safe and waiting for you whenever you decide what it is you'd like to do with them. The rest I have returned to their proper places, as best I could manage.
Now that you are fully mended, I would like to broach a subject that would have been previously inappropriate to discuss with you. I rather enjoyed working with you that awful night. You may doubt it, given the circumstances, but you were quite impressive. I could use a partner like you, someone I can rely on, and whose trust, perhaps, I've earned. This line of endeavor can be terribly dangerous, as you've seen. I have the utmost faith in you should you accept my offer. Now, far be it from me to suggest that you owe me. That would be unspeakably uncouth. Still, you might, quite reasonably, feel a magnitude of gratitude that cannot be fully expressed with a simple "thank you."
There's no need to decide in this very moment, though. Go home. Get back to living. (It's never too late!) I'll ring you up sometime, and if I'm very lucky, you'll tell me yes.
Until then,
Kessler
So, yeah the worst thing I ever saw in my career in law enforcement was myself, of what was hiding within me, waiting to unleash itself. That may seem like a cheat of an answer, but frankly, I've found that's the case with a lot of the cops I know.
Did I end up working with Kessler? Yes, I am an idiot. I could tell you a few stories, but you really wouldn't want to hear them.
Hi, I have a partially functioning fridge for repair or use as a freezer only. Only the freezer compartment is working really well [we believe the auto defrost is malfunctioning and that is why the fridge part isn't staying cool]. At one point was be [...]
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Need to fix a scratch on a Frigidaire fridge door. I found touchup paint online but it's 25 dollars and time is an issue. Just wondering if there is any way to get rid of it otherwise. Thanks in advance for any help http://ift.tt/2aFrZUh
I am hoping to start a grocery deliver service.
Does anyone know the kinds of insurance I will need? Business permits? etc?
Does anyone know the types of insurance I would need to enter a property without the owners or renters being present? To stalk the refrigerator when no one is home.
Hello. My mother cleaned the fridge thoroughly today, and after cleaning we realized the top part (the refrigerator) was no longer cooling. The bottom part (the freezer) works fine. After doing some research online, I removed the backplate and vacuumed out the condenser coil, but the refridgerator still does not work. There is no airflow going to the refrigerator. Please advise.
I responded "one could say that drawer gets moldy".
So I'm living off campus now, and I have no idea what I am doing. I bought these sausages that were vacuumed sealed, and I was wondering what do I do with the rest of the sausages when I only cooked one of them? Do I throw them back in the freezer, or put them in refrigerator? I wasn't sure where to post this.
Hey /r/gainit
So as the title says, I need a help with my diet. My goal for a day is 3000calories, which I achieve quite easily. The problem I'm facing right now is that I'm going away on a camp for one week and I'm afraid it will be a lot harder to achieve the 3000kcal/day. I'd really appreciate if you could recommend me food high in calories(I don't care if it's high in carbs/fat/protein) that could be easily stored(no refrigerator) and can be easily prepared. Thanks:)
i have made starters 2 times before but always made just enough for what i was baking. I am looking for some advise or links to helpful websites on how often to feed and how to best store a starter.
i know you start and feed with equal parts flour and water (i use room temp water and get the starter going at room temp on my counter)
really looking for thoughts on:
*temp of getting a starter ?
*weather or not you should throw out half the starter when you feed?
*how often to feed ( i was doing once a day for about a week)?
*store on a shelf or refrigerator?
*how long they can stay?
*once started how often do you feed?
any and all help or advise or encouragement is greatly appreciated.