Buy Refrigerator: December 2017

Sunday, December 31, 2017

Is your refrigerator running? Jokes

That's nice... do you sell balloons?

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 10:45AM by Dnadnnoid http://ift.tt/2C4S48n Jokes

In the UK, is the refrigerator on the left side and the freezer on the right? Showerthoughts

No text found

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 09:34AM by paulcristo http://ift.tt/2q8LeNN Showerthoughts

Is it still good or should I throw it? Frugal

I I bought a turkey deep fryer the other day and on Christmas I deep fried me a turkey. After I was done deep frying it I drained the oil, but I did not strain any particles out and I did not put it in the refrigerator I just put it back into its original container and set it on my shelf in the pantry. When I look at the container that it's in the oil is a little bit darker than it normally should be and it has a little bit of a scent as well but not the scent of rotten food or rancid at least I don't think so plus I just got done deep frying a turkey in it 6 or 7 days ago. My question is do you think the oil is still good for me to use today if I were to fry some chicken in there? I have about a half a gallon of brand new peanut oil and then I have a gallon of used peanut oil that I used to fry the Turkey in. When I look in the container there is no food particles that I can see with my naked eye, but like I said it does have a little bit of a scent to it and it is a little off colored.

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 09:17AM by Jke0821 http://ift.tt/2Cpy43N Frugal

In the UK, is the refrigerator on the left side and the freezer on the right? Showerthoughts

No text found

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 09:34AM by paulcristo http://ift.tt/2q8LeNN Showerthoughts

r/soylent top submitters and commenters for 2017 soylent

	Submissions	Comments
Total	1000	26765
Rate (per day)	2.75	73.30
Unique Redditors	733	4826
Combined Score	52507	126990

Top Submitters' Top Submissions

1199 points, 9 submissions: /u/Soylentconor
1. SOYLENT KICKSTARTS THE SUMMER WITH NEW CAFE LINE FLAVORS (268 points, 263 comments)
2. Soylent Development Team AMA (179 points, 512 comments)
3. Cafe Variety Packs Are Here! (166 points, 103 comments)
4. Soylent Blog - Soylent Closes $50 Million Series B Round Led by GV (164 points, 94 comments)
5. Soylent Blog - Soylent to Donate 50 Percent of All New Sales on World Food Day (118 points, 2 comments)
6. Cities: Skylines Easter Egg (92 points, 16 comments)
7. Get original - unleash your inner artist and we may just reward you with swag (85 points, 45 comments)
8. Soylent Blog - How to Design a Bottle (64 points, 42 comments)
9. Dark Web Store Updated (63 points, 66 comments)
711 points, 15 submissions: /u/ColdBoreShooter
1. I was just called “mediocre and lazy” for drinking Complete Foods. (126 points, 73 comments)
2. Aaaaaand these are still on the front page of google. How are we going to attract new reverse foodies if this is the kind of press Soylent gets? (81 points, 84 comments)
3. Because I’d rather not have to deal with that on my desk for 3 hours. (65 points, 15 comments)
4. March 2017 update on that kid from UC Berkeley studying Soylent's effect on the microbiome (58 points, 3 comments)
5. Watched "What The Health," spent the next hour reading fact-checks and rebuttals. Fed up with the Nutrition Wars and just gonna increase Soylent intake. (53 points, 36 comments)
6. Which meal replacement has the "best" ingredients? (53 points, 40 comments)
7. Soooooo I can "subscribe" to all 5 Soylent products on Amazon and save 15%? (48 points, 23 comments)
8. Just so you know, if you call Amazon they might give you the 30% off coupon for the entire order, not just 1 box. I just got 5 boxes of Original for $103. (43 points, 20 comments)
9. Labdoor tests Soylent 2.0, gives it a 75.8/100.... (40 points, 44 comments)
10. Huel Covers Common Nutrition Myths (32 points, 15 comments)
496 points, 14 submissions: /u/inquirering
1. Soylent at Amazon coupon: 35% off + 5% off + free shipping (99 points, 37 comments)
2. Soylent Partners With Powerhouse Creative Agency Wieden+Kennedy, Unveils AI Spokesperson (68 points, 32 comments)
3. A CEO who swapped the bulk of his food for Silicon Valley's favorite futuristic meal replacement drink explains how it makes him more productive (66 points, 20 comments)
4. Soylent: Food of the Future? (43 points, 10 comments)
5. Russian SpaceFood Video (32 points, 10 comments)
6. Soylent Goes Cyberpunk with A.I. Spokesperson and Dark Web Marketplace (31 points, 2 comments)
7. Soylent Names Industry Veteran Bryan Crowley As President (30 points, 15 comments)
8. Article - "Soylent, Impossible Burgers and more: What do high-tech foods really taste like?" (25 points, 14 comments)
9. Is Pond Scum the Future of Food? (24 points, 13 comments)
10. I ate Soylent for lunch every day for a month, and here's what it did for my skin and mental health (18 points, 12 comments)
473 points, 8 submissions: /u/phloating_man
1. Soylent in Jian-Yang's refrigerator (Silicon Valley) (178 points, 25 comments)
2. Soylent spotted in a Northern California 7-Eleven (162 points, 36 comments)
3. 11.24% off Black Friday deal on all Jimmy Joy products for 24 hours (33 points, 18 comments)
4. New Limited Edition Plenny Shake Flavor: Hazelnut (28 points, 11 comments)
5. Jimmy Joy Releases Limited Edition Plenny Shake Coconut (27 points, 13 comments)
6. Soylent featured on HBO TV show "Silicon Valley" (17 points, 12 comments)
7. Meal Replacement Guide (Plenny Shake) (15 points, 13 comments)
8. Meal Replacements Calculator (USA) (13 points, 11 comments)
466 points, 4 submissions: /u/dayaz36
1. I bench 350 and I CANNOT OPEN A GODDAMN BOTTLE OF SOYLENT (211 points, 70 comments)
2. I made Soylent Boba (124 points, 41 comments)
3. They're selling Trish at Costco (75 points, 18 comments)
4. I’m officially part of an exclusive club. Everybody bow your heads. (56 points, 17 comments)
459 points, 1 submission: /u/Charlton_Question
1. I am Soylent Founder and CEO Rob Rhinehart AMA (459 points, 355 comments)
433 points, 1 submission: /u/ModerateStimulation
1. Soylent at 7-11 (433 points, 105 comments)
415 points, 2 submissions: /u/what_are_frogs_
1. Roommate is discovering the benefits of Soylent (237 points, 29 comments)
2. Soylent twitter wyd (178 points, 42 comments)
412 points, 2 submissions: /u/Goldving
1. Free Soylent at PAX (274 points, 43 comments)
2. FYI: Too much cinnamon daily can cause liver damage (138 points, 26 comments)
407 points, 1 submission: /u/highway-to-helvetica
1. Joylent's new name Jimmy Joy sounds like I'm drinking Cum (407 points, 121 comments)

Top Commenters

/u/Soylentconor (7849 points, 651 comments)
/u/PirateNinjaa (1645 points, 475 comments)
/u/IcyElemental (1511 points, 387 comments)
/u/_ilovetofu_ (1478 points, 182 comments)
/u/Charlton_Question (1447 points, 41 comments)
/u/axcho (1062 points, 332 comments)
/u/soylentdev (952 points, 79 comments)
/u/440_Hz (940 points, 188 comments)
/u/SparklingLimeade (891 points, 159 comments)
/u/Rawrkanos_Michael (812 points, 265 comments)

Top Submissions

I am Soylent Founder and CEO Rob Rhinehart AMA by /u/Charlton_Question (459 points, 355 comments)
Soylent at 7-11 by /u/ModerateStimulation (433 points, 105 comments)
Joylent's new name Jimmy Joy sounds like I'm drinking Cum by /u/highway-to-helvetica (407 points, 121 comments)
Prohibition won't stop us Canadians by /u/soylentprohibition (353 points, 46 comments)
Soylent no longer available in Canada. (hopefully temporary but doesn't look good) by /u/BluFoot (330 points, 489 comments)
Soylent red is cats! by /u/rotuami (303 points, 45 comments)
All of my coworkers laughed at me for have a ton of soylent. Stuck in the Houston Hurricane.. Now look how is laughing. by /u/Ace_of_Clubs (286 points, 55 comments)
Free Soylent at PAX by /u/Goldving (274 points, 43 comments)
SOYLENT KICKSTARTS THE SUMMER WITH NEW CAFE LINE FLAVORS by /u/Soylentconor (268 points, 263 comments)
Anyone want this dog? by /u/TheGhostyBear (266 points, 42 comments)

Top Comments

214 points: /u/mcfiddish's comment in So, I'm new to this concept. Can I just drink only Soylent and survive for the rest of my life?
144 points: /u/understandunderstand's comment in Soylent no longer available in Canada. (hopefully temporary but doesn't look good)
140 points: /u/Charlton_Question's comment in I am Soylent Founder and CEO Rob Rhinehart AMA
139 points: /u/jarredshere's comment in Day 50: 100% Soylent 1.8 and I've never wanted to lick a Dorito chip so badly
133 points: /u/HeIsARobertCop's comment in I am Soylent Founder and CEO Rob Rhinehart AMA
132 points: /u/Jasrek's comment in Delivery bot at my school now has Soylent
128 points: deleted's comment in Joylent's new name Jimmy Joy sounds like I'm drinking Cum
125 points: /u/Soylentconor's comment in Not a fan of the new bottles... this happens everytime I open one
124 points: /u/glug_glug_glug's comment in So, I'm new to this concept. Can I just drink only Soylent and survive for the rest of my life?
118 points: /u/Soylentconor's comment in Seriously, why isn't there a variety pack yet? There are even 6 varieties which divide perfectly into a 12 bottle box.

Generated with BBoe's Subreddit Stats

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 07:25AM by phloating_man http://ift.tt/2zV5B0H soylent

The temperature is in the ‘teens...a garage refrigerator in now a heater. Showerthoughts

No text found

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 07:26AM by Willolo http://ift.tt/2ClKc6H Showerthoughts

If the heat goes out to a house in the winter, then the hottest place would be the refrigerator. Showerthoughts

No text found

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 06:14AM by givemeuniqueusername http://ift.tt/2DGZkb7 Showerthoughts

Dreamed the plot of a dark sci-fi movie staring Jodie Foster and Bryan Cranston Dreams

Last night I had a dream where I have a 3rd person view, like a VR movie. It started off with a vague object entering orbit around the Earth. Then the scene switches to a grade-school girl in her bedroom playing with a stuffed monkey while going to bed. Girl starts hearing a voice from the monkey. She was really happy that her friend can talk to her, instead of being afraid. Over time, the monkey's vocabulary increases, and its mouth can move to match the speech. Eventually, the girl can hear the voice anywhere, instead of just from the monkey, and the voice usually comes from her shadow or a reflection of herself.

At first, her parents thought her monkey was just an imaginary friend. But later they think she's got mental health problems. The time skips forward to when she's a young adult, and now she's played by Jodie Foster. The voice now comes from the image of a grey alien that shows up in reflective surfaces like water or mirrors. One day it tells her that she needs to help it at "the factory," so she heads outside. Scene switches to a young Bryan Cranston working on a pickup truck in the evening. I don't know what his relationship with Jodie Foster was, but a shadow in the reflection of his truck tells him Jodie Foster needs his help at "the factory," so he gets in his truck and drives off.

Later in the night, there's an old man standing next to a really shiny brushed-metal refrigerator. I assume the man is Jodie Foster's father. He's wearing a nasal cannula with a wheeled oxygen tank. He's reaching to open the refrigerator door when he sees a shadow reflected in the door. At first, he think's it's his wife as he starts saying "honey." But he turns around and no one's there. The shadow starts talking to him but the words are hard to hear. Shadow on the refrigerator door starts to gain form and it becomes a face. The face keeps morphing between Jodie Foster, himself, and a grey alien. The voice sounds like a screaming, distorted demon voice, and only the words "the factory" can be understood. The hallucination stops, and the old man falls to his knees. He tears off the nasal cannula, and his nose bleeds and he vomits, and he yells for his wife.

Scene changes to a diner. Outside is really dark. Inside is poorly lit. There's a dozen people seated, looks like a family restaurant. There's a big TV hanging on the wall playing local news. Some kind of creepy, clunky robot on tracks with Ronald McDonald's head is rolling around and taking customer orders. The local news is talking about how the world is in a new nuclear arms race. There are images of ballistic missiles launching from underground silos, and a facility near the town that makes nuke parts.

The customers are discussing and debating the arms race and the presence of the local nuke factory, when the news suddenly changes to a car chase. It's dark outside, a police helicopter is filming and has a spotlight on a pickup truck and several police cars. The chase is happening on a dirt road, and the news is saying this is outside the local nuke factory.

The police open fire at the pickup truck, and the truck stops. Police surround the truck. A grey alien exits the passenger side door, and looks like its bleeding. Everyone in the diner gasps and falls silent, then the police start shooting the alien. After the police stop shooting and the alien has fallen down, Jodie Foster and Bryan Cranston come out of the truck. Jodie Foster has something in her hand, and a red laser beam comes out of it. She starts wildly shooting at the police, a couple of them are hit, and they explode into bits of flesh and sprays of red mist. Police run in and tackle Jodie Foster and Bryan Cranston.

Afterwards, the scene changes to an old lady siting and talking directly towards me (the audience?) while in her kitchen. By then i feel like I'm waking up, and I can't make out what the lady is saying, but it's that same distorted demon voice. Her face starts shifting with black sclera, and her mouth starts twisting or enlarging with big skinless teeth. Skin starts to turn grey, and then I woke up.

What a bizarre dream. And I assume the demon voice and facial morphing comes from a clip I saw last night. It was on reddit, a clip of an old lady from the movie Legion. What a crazy and incredibly detailed dream to have at the end of the year.

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 02:42AM by ilililil1 http://ift.tt/2DEgxSp Dreams

May Tag Ice Maker freezes up - trouble shooting help please appliancerepair

Hi folks.

The ice maker in my May Tag top mount refrigerator is doing a weird thing, it is making ice in the metal tray, but the ice is frozen solid to the tray. Therefore, when the plastic tines or forks go to rotate to dump the ice, they just can not make it budge. It is stuck in there good.

I do not know how this ice maker works, but I'm guessing there is something to heat up the metal tray slightly to get the ice unstuck from the metal tray/mold so that it will swoop the ice out?

Is this just a 'dead ice maker' situation or are there some things I can troubleshoot, parts I can replace?

I have a digital multi-meter and plenty of hand tools.

Thank you for any advice/tips.

parts numbers, details and photos(linked) below.

links to photos of ice maker

writing on the label of the icemaker itself, under the cover :

1st line : 185 W-115 - 60 HZ

2nd line : IM # HR-106 W10190978

3rd line : Customer JW626687 12/23/11 IM 13

refrigerator info. if that is helpful :

May Tag

Top Mount Refrigerator TM-1

May Tag

Newton, IA USA 50208

model number : MTB 2155 ARW

Rev. No. 10

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 02:16AM by HouseofWoogeroo http://ift.tt/2Ci4ez3 appliancerepair

When it's this cold outside, the beer refrigerator in the garage is technically warming the beer. Showerthoughts

No text found

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 01:14AM by ckrimmel http://ift.tt/2Cv9HPT Showerthoughts

May Tag Ice Maker freezes up - trouble shooting help please appliancerepair

Hi folks.

I do not know how this ice maker works, but I'm guessing there is something to heat up the metal tray slightly to get the ice unstuck from the metal tray/mold so that it will swoop the ice out?

Is this just a 'dead ice maker' situation or are there some things I can troubleshoot, parts I can replace?

I have a digital multi-meter and plenty of hand tools.

Thank you for any advice/tips.

parts numbers, details and photos(linked) below.

links to photos of ice maker

writing on the label of the icemaker itself, under the cover :

1st line : 185 W-115 - 60 HZ

2nd line : IM # HR-106 W10190978

3rd line : Customer JW626687 12/23/11 IM 13

refrigerator info. if that is helpful :

May Tag

Top Mount Refrigerator TM-1

May Tag

Newton, IA USA 50208

model number : MTB 2155 ARW

Rev. No. 10

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 02:16AM by HouseofWoogeroo http://ift.tt/2Ci4ez3 appliancerepair

If you put ice cream from the freezer to the refrigerator, it heats up Showerthoughts

No text found

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 12:08AM by RemmingtonTufflips http://ift.tt/2CjrAUU Showerthoughts

Redneck heater cider

Last month I started a 1 gallon batch but it's winter and my home temp drops to 12 c at night and my garage refrigerator has beer fermenting , I came up with the Redneck heater. Button magnets for feet and a Reptile Heat Cable hot glued on, Add water to the pot sit the jug in and with the STC1000 the Redneck heater has keep the fermentation at 20 c and it's almost time to bottle.

Submitted December 31, 2017 at 11:37PM by Ronthehippie http://ift.tt/2DFWV07 cider

The Dialogue of the East Area Rapist and Original Night Stalker. UnresolvedMysteries

This post of mine will be unconventional. I don't expect it to play a significant role in any form, but I thought it would be intriguing for examination purposes.

I created a list solely of the things the East Area Rapist was reported saying in each crime he committed. I will include certain things the victims may have said, but the majority of the post is focusing purely on the criminal to see how his attitude and phrases mentioned in the towns themselves were presented.

The perpetrator seemingly had a script he followed with each attack, but he did occasionally improvise. Perhaps a connection can be conjured from this type of exercise. I know this may be a pointless endeavor, and I'm well aware of the fact that the East Area Rapist more than likely said a lot more to his victims that weren't documented, so we can only work with what we got and build from there.

Rancho Cordova

Attack #1

If you make one move or sound, I'll stick this knife in you. I want to fuck you.
Take it off (her nightgown). Take it out (tampon).
Do you have any money? (She tried responding). Shut up!
Don't make a move while I'm here or I'll kill you.
I told you to shut up (to "someone else" in the house).

Attack #3

Freeze or I'll kill you. Hang the phone up!
Who else is in the house?
I only want your money (after violently abusing her with a club).

He didn't use any curse words during this attack.

Attack #6

Heather, Heather, Heather (whispering to wake her up).
Don't scream or I'll kill you!
I need money for a fix.
Get up. Duck your head (leading her throughout the house that he set up with rope).
I've dreamt about you and have been wanting to fuck you for a long time. Play with my cock.
Don't scream or I'll come back and kill you. I only live down the block.

Attack #8

Stop fighting or I'll kill you; I only want your car.
Get out and turn around. Don't look at me.
Do you have any money? I'm only here for cash and your car keys.
If you don't stop squirming I'll cut you up.
Shut up (after she said she has money in her purse).
Shut up, I'm not going to hurt your dog (she pleaded for him not to harm her).
Sit down!
Shut up (as he grabbed her car keys and jingled them. I'm going to leave for five minutes. If you move, I'll cut your throat and blam, blam, blam (indicating gunshots).

Attack #15

Don't look at me or scream or I'll kill you (removed the phone cord from the wall).
Get to the floor and lay on your stomach.
My car is just a block away. If you don't do as I say, I'll kill you.
I'm not going to hurt you, I just want your money. Do as I tell you (cutting towels and subduing her).
When are your parents coming home?
I have an eight-inch dick. You have a beautiful body. Have you ever been fucked? (He asked her using her real name).

Attack #24

Be quiet and don't move or I'll kill you. I want your dope. I'll find it if you don't tell me where it's at.
Roll over and get on your stomachs.
Tie him up! (throwing binding to the girlfriend).
If either of you moves I'll blow your heads off (putting the gun to their heads after they were bound. This happened multiple times).
I'll cut your throat if you don't listen to me (to the girlfriend after relocating her).
Play with my dick!
Don't move or I'll slit your throat (after hearing the doorbell ring and talking to someone on the front stoop).

Attack #43

I just want your money. I won't hurt you if you just shut up and listen. Roll over, bitch! (After waking the female up and punching her multiple times).
This is your last chance to tell me where your money is, bitch (after rummaging through the house for 45 minutes and using the blade of his knife to move up and down on her back).
Ugh, bitch (stretching her elastic from her pajamas and snapping them down on her back).

He called her a bitch many times, and he was interrupted by the sound of her children's alarm clocks buzzing. He never assaulted her, which she believes was because of a large scar on her back.

Carmichael

Attack #2

Shut up! Don't move or I'll stab you in the neck.
I already tied up your sister (after she tried running from the assailant, screaming her sister's name, and he caught up to her in the hallway and punched her several times in the head and face).
Put your hands behind your back.
If you do what I say, I'll fill my bag and leave.
If you make your bed move, I'll kill you (after taking her back to her room).
I'm in love with your fucking body. I knew when I saw you at the junior prom that I had to fuck you. Have you ever been fucked? Play with my cock.
Where's your money? (After the rape).
Where're the doctor's drugs? They aren't in the refrigerator.

Side note - One of the sister's who got free from the assailant and ran for her other sister, said, What is this God-damned queer doing here?

Attack #4

Shut up or I'll fucking kill you.
Swallow it or I'll slit your throat (after ejaculating into her mouth).
I need money to get to Bakersfield.
I'm in the army.

There isn't much-documented dialogue in this attack, but the phrases mentioned above were stated in some way or another over the course of two hours.

Attack #7

Shut up! Do as I tell you or I'll butcher you and your son! How many people are inside?
If you don't get your dog to be quiet, I'll kill you. Get him to be quiet!
If you move I'll kill you (threatening the scared little boy in front of his mother, blindfolding him and tying him to his mother's headboard).
Where's your money? (She said there was some in an envelope but that's all she had).
You have a beautiful body. Do you lay out in the sun?
You lied. You said there was no more money but there was some in the desk. You lied (He was stuttering).
Do as I say or I'll kill you and your kids.
Don't scream or fight me or I'll kill you. You have a beautiful body. Play with it! (The sexual assault began).
Nobody ever said that to me before. Most people laugh at me because something happened to my face. What time is it, I need to know. (This occurred when the victim tried complimenting him to ease the suffering of the rape).
Take the rings off or I'll kill you. I'll cut your fucking fingers off (he tried removing them but couldn't, and he finally used soap to remove them).
Don't move or I'll kill your mom (he raped her then checked on her son).
When will your husband come back home? Don't lie or I'll kill you and your son.

Attack #10

If you move I'll kill you.
Where's your money? Don't lie to me.
What time will your parents be home? Don't lie or I'll know.
Move. Don't say a word or I'll put this knife in you and be gone in the dark of the night (he guided her to the backyard).
I'm not going to hurt you. I'm gonna tie you to this post, and if you look at me, I'll kill you.
Every ten seconds I'm going to look out the window at you (he went inside to ransack the home).
Oh, damn. (This was said multiple times during the rummaging).
Have you ever been fucked or touched a man's cock? Don't lie or I'll kill you (after returning).
Tell me you liked it! (He ordered her to say this after assaulting her numerous time).

Attack #21

Wake up! Look at me. I said look at me! Do you hear me? Pull the covers down! Get on your stomachs. (He stuttered during this).
I'm gonna tie you up and take your money and jewels. You, tie him up! Tie him tighter or I'll kill you both. If you listen, I won't hurt you (he threw shoelaces to her).
Don't move or I'll blow your fucking head off!
Don't say anything! Shut up or I'll kill everyone. She's dead! She's dead! The first thing you'll hear is two shots.
Where's your purse? You're gonna come with me to find it or I'll kill you.
If you listen to me, I won't hurt you (after, he went to the kitchen to eat).
I need more money (went to ransack).
Rub and suck it or I'll kill you and your husband (returned to the wife after pillaging, and used her real name during the rape).
That feels good (moaning and saying her name).
Don't make a sound or I'll kill everyone in here and leave in the night (after returning to the husband).
I'm gonna drink some beer and eat some food. If I hear the dishes move, I'll kill for the first time.
Those fuckers, those fuckers, those pigs. I've never killed before, but I will now. Do you fucking hear me? Tell those fucking pigs I'm going to kill. I'm going home now to my apartment and I have a lot of TVs and radios. If I hear about this on the news, two people are going to die! (He told the husband the same thing and stuttered a lot when he was getting excited).

Citrus Heights

Attack #5

All I want is your money! Do as I say or I'll kill you and your son (her husband just left for work a few minutes prior).
I have all the money and will be leaving soon.
Shut up! You have a beautiful, big pussy. You looked good at the club. Is my dick like the captains? Play with it! (He raped her after saying he found the money).
I'm going to make something to eat (after the assault).

Attack #9

Shut up or I'll stab you with my knife!
All I want is your money.
Shut your fucking dog up or I'll stab him to death. Where's your money?
Damn, no money? (She told him she didn't have any).
Get up and turn around (he bound her and guided her outside).
Don't move or scream or I'll kill you and I'll be gone in the night (he went inside the home, turned the lights on, heater off, put the window screen back on where he entered from, and locked the door).
Do you like to fuck? Do you have a boyfriend? Does he fuck you?
Shut up or you'll be silent forever (he led her to a nearby canal as she pleaded for her life).
This isn't working right. I know you, don't I? Do you go to American River College? (She said she attended San Juan High School).
Stop lying! What's your name?
I have to wait for my parents to leave before I can go home in my car. You better not make a noise or move in the next twenty minutes or I'll kill you and be gone in the night.

Attack #12

If you scream again I'll kill you (he said this multiple times).
What do you think I'm doing? Take a guess! (He was lubricating his penis and made her play with it).

Not a lot of dialogue is recorded in this attack, but the victim said he spoke many obscenities and made her repeat the phrases. He would tell her to shut up when she tried repeating the words.

Attack #13

Don't move or say a word or I'll kill you with my gun. All I want is money.
You better listen to what I say or I'll kill you. Go sit down so I can tie you up.
Get on the bed, I'm going to tie you up and cover your face.
Shut the fuck up or I'll kill your daughter and cut her ear off (she was trying to fight him off and he punched her repeatedly in the face).
I'll cut your face if you try to move and then I'll cut off all your toes one by one.
Don't make a sound or I'll cut you. Go to the bathroom so I can tie you up (he said this to the victim's daughter who walked in on them. They weren't compliant and screamed, causing him to leave the home).

Attack #20

I have a .45 and will kill you both if you move or make a sound. Get on your stomachs so I can bind you. Here, tie his hands! Tie him tighter and in a knot or I'll kill you. Cross your ankles or I'll kill you.
Where is your money? Is it in that green box? Don't lie or I'll kill you. All I want is your money for food and my van.
I'm going to take a break now. Don't move while I'm away.
Where is your purse? I can't find it. Don't make a sound or I'll cut your throat and cut your ear off (he put dishes on the male's back and removed the female from the room).
If you don't listen to me, I'll kill the two of you. Now walk and don't look at my face!
Get down on your stomach. If you disobey I will murder you.
Don't fucking move or I'll kill you. I am going to drink a beer and rest.
You're so beautiful. I'm going to take you to my van. Do you want to be in the river? (He said this to the female after relaxing).
Shut the fuck up or I'll kill you! (The female begged him not to take her rings she had on her).

Sacramento

Attack #11

Be quiet. All I'm here for is your money and I'll be gone. I won't hurt you.
If you don't listen to me, bitch, I'll cut you to pieces (he said this many times).
Do you hear that, bitch? Guess what I'm doing (she replied with a wrong answer and he made her guess again).
Suck my dick. If you try to bite me I swear I'll kill you.

The dialogue for this attack isn't well known, but the perpetrator was in the home for hours verbally and physically abusing her

Attack #14

Don't fucking scream or move or I'll kill you with this butcher knife. I just want your money.

Not much is known about this attack in general, but the victim stated he abused her for three hours.

Attack #17

Wake up! I have a .45 Magnum. I'll blow your brains all over the walls if you look at me. Get on your fucking stomachs.
I'm only here for the money. I won't hurt you if you comply.
Tie him up, now! If you make any sudden moves, you two are dead.
Where's your purse? I can't find it. Come with me, now (he removed the female from the room).
You better do as I say or I'll fucking kill your boyfriend.
If these dishes make a sound, I'll hear them and kill your girlfriend! (He made this remark to her boyfriend after subduing the female in the living room).
What the fuck? Don't do that again or I'll fucking kill you! (The dishes fell off the boyfriend's back).
Touch my cock, bitch. Tell me how much you love it.
I'm going to fucking kill your girlfriend (after the assault and hearing the dishes fall again).
I'm in need of a real fix. Where's your codeine? Tell me, now (he found the drugs and left).

Attack #18

Don't move. Do you see this? I have a .45 caliber military automatic. If you try grabbing me, I will kill you and get to my camp across the levee. Where is your money?
Tie his hands. If you don't make them tight, I'm going to kill everyone in here! (He threw shoelaces at her).
If you try looking at me, you're dead!
Get on your stomachs and tell me where your money is, I need some cocaine.
You better have more money or I'll fucking kill you both. I need a fix. (He found insufficient funds for his pleasure).
Show me where your purse is. Don't make a noise or you're dead. (He removed the female and threatened the male).
Are you in the military? Which one? I got kicked out. (The husband said he was in the Air Force).
Lay down on the floor! What sound do you hear? If you're wrong I'll kill you (he was lotioning his penis).
Play with my cock like you do with your husband.
You're big. I bet you like big cocks. Tell me you like them, bitch.
I'm going to get something to eat. Don't move or make noise or I'll hear it and kill you.

Attack #22

Lay still or I'll kill your entire family including your little boy. Put your hands up and don't look at me. I only want food and money.
Tie the man up and do it right or I'll kill you. Tighter! (He gave the female shoelaces).
I won't hurt you. I'm going to get something to eat and take your money and leave in my van (he repeated this numerous times).
If you don't keep your face down, I'll kill your wife and son! Lay still.
Lay down on the fucking floor. They got it wrong last time. I said I'd kill two people (after he forced the wife into the living room).
Are you fucking listening? If this is in the newspaper or on TV tomorrow, I'm going to kill two people. What did I say? Repeat what I said.
I want you to tell the fucking pigs that they got mixed up last time. I said I would murder two people. You better fucking listen. There are televisions in my apartment and I'll be watching the news (he stuttered a lot as his anger increased).
It scares my mommy when it's in the news (he sobbed and had trouble using the letter "L").

Attack #26

Wake up and don't move or I'll blow your fucking head off. Where's your gun? I know you have one. Don't lie or you're dead.
All I want is food and money for my van and I'll leave.
Tie him (he threw shoelaces to the wife).
Bitch, if you try that one more time, you're brains will be all over the fucking walls. Now tie him tighter!
What the fuck? You tried untying him while I was gone, didn't you, bitch? (He ransacked the home and when he returned he accused her).
Stand up and don't try anything or you're dead. Get on your stomach! (He took the wife into the living room).
Play with my cock. You better make me feel good.
Shut up or I'll cut your fucking ear off. Now suck my cock! (She was complaining about her hands being fastened too tight).
I'm sorry, Mommy. Help me. I don't want to do this anymore, Mommy. Oh, Mom. Somebody, please help me (he repeated it several times and began to hyperventilate after the attack).
Be quiet you fucking bitch, I'm going to watch TV (after weeping).

Attack #27

I won't hurt you. I only want your money. Lay on your stomach (he said this to a mother alone with her daughter).
Do you want me to cut your fingers off? Who else is in here? You better not lie or I'll cut your throat (he was in the process of binding her).
I'm going to tie up your daughter.
If these dishes make any sound, I'll fucking kill you. Do you hear me? If you listen, I won't harm you. I just want money and food (he returned to the mother stacking dishes on her back).
I am going back to L.A. and my car is just outside. I need some things for my apartment.
I'm going upstairs to make something to eat. Don't try anything, bitch, or I'll kill your daughter. Do you hear me?
Wake up! This isn't a joke, so get on your stomach and put your hands behind your back (said to the daughter).
Do as I say or I'll cut your throat and watch you bleed. Do you want me to cut your fucking ear off? I'll kill your mother if you move.
Where's your money? Don't lie to me.
Grab my cock and play with it. Have you ever been fucked before?
Roll over or I'll kill you. I said roll the fuck over and bend your legs!
I'm going to take some food from the house and leave (he told this to the mother and left the residence).

Attack #29

Give me all your money or I'll kill you.
Go wake up your sister. If you look at me or try anything funny, I'll fucking kill you.
Both of you get on the bed and lay on your stomachs. What time will your parents be home? If you lie, I'll slit your throats and kill your parents too, and I'll sneak away into the fog.
Spread your legs and relax. You two better not make any noise or I'll come back in here and kill you (he left to ransack).
Where is your parents' cash? Don't lie!
She's making me do this and I don't want to anymore (he was angry and whimpering).

Attack #31

Don't move or talk or I'll fucking kill you with my icepick. Lay down and put your hands behind your back!
I'm not going to hurt you. Be quiet and I'll take the money and leave. I need food. (He repeated this several times during the assault).
I've wanted to rape you for a long time. Relax or I'll kill you (he addressed her by her real name).
Say hello! (The phone rang numerous times, so he made her answer the phone to assure the caller -- her father -- everything was okay and hung up the phone. Her father knew something was wrong and immediately rushed over to the home where he interrupted the assault, and the intruder fled).

Orangevale

Attack #16

Do you see this gun in my hand? Don't make a sound! Wake him up.
Don't move. Get on your stomachs. I have a .45 with fourteen shots and two clips. I only want your money. Tell me where your wallet is. If you lie, I'll kill you like I did those people in Bakersfield.
If you comply, I'll be gone in a few minutes.
Tie your husband up! Tie him tighter. (He had shoelaces already draped on the bed for her).
Don't look at me. If you see me, I'll kill the both of you.
If I hear these dishes cling or this bed squeak, you're all dead (he stacked dishes on the victims back).
I'm going to tie you up in the hallway so you can't untie each other (he removed the female from the bedroom).
Lay down on your stomach. Where are your matches? Don't lie to me or I'll kill you (he placed dishes on her back and ransacked the home).
I'm getting your purse from the car.
Hold my cock and be gentle with it (after returning).
Did you fuck tonight? You better not lie to me or I'll find out and kill you. I've been in the army and I've fucked a lot.
If you make me feel good, I'll leave you alone.
Next place, next town (he said this to the boyfriend before leaving the residence).

Attack #19

Get back in the house or I'll blow your fucking brains out (the male was walking the female back to her car when the assailant approached them).
Get on your stomachs.
Get your dogs to shut up or I'll kill them.
Tie him up or I'll blow your head off (said several times in succession).
Put your dogs in the fucking bedroom. If you try looking at me, you're dead.
Now get on your stomach and cross your ankles. All I want is money and I'll leave.
Shut the fuck up! (The male tried speaking up, but the perpetrator cut him off and put a knife to his throat).
I'm going to go eat and drink something. If you make any noise, I'll fucking kill you (after raping the female several times).
You better swear to God you didn't see a van down the street. Repeat what I just said! (He said this three times before leaving the home).

Stockton

Attack #23

Don't fucking move or I'll kill him. Lay down on your stomach! (He repeated this many times).
You! Tie his hands behind his back (he gave the wife shoelaces from her husband's shoes).
I'm not going to hurt any of you. I'm only here for money and food for my apartment a few blocks away. I need soap, towels, and a television.
Where's your wallet?
If you make any noise or trouble, I'll chop your kids up and bring you their ears! (He ransacked the home).
If I hear any of these dishes rattle, I'll kill you. (He removed the female from the room and stacked dishes on the male's back and placed the muzzle of his gun to his head and cocking the trigger).
Ever since I saw you at the store, I wanted to fuck you.
I'm playing a game with your parents. Do you want to help? (The family's six-year-old-daughter woke up to use the bathroom and stumbled upon the incident).

Interesting side note - This was the only account where the victim said she was sodomized by a sex toy; a dildo that was strapped around the assailant's waist.

Attack #30

Be quiet and I won't hurt you. I just need some money and food to live.
Do you see this? I have a .357 Magnum and I'll blow your head off. Get on your stomachs.
Put your hands behind your back and cross them. Turn your head away. (He put his gun to the male's head and cocked the trigger).
Don't look at me. Tie him up! If you move, I'll blow your fucking head off (repeated multiple times).
Tie him tighter! Tighter, I said. Again!
Where's your money? If this bed makes a sound when I'm gone, you're fucking dead.
Shut up! Lift your head (he returned from ransacking and placed a towel over the male's face, who tried pleading him with saying he would die because he has allergies).
Get away from him! Get the fuck up and don't look at me. Start walking! (He removed the female from the room).
Do you like to fuck? You better make it good. This is how me fuck! (He put his full weight on her, making her cry in pain).
If you make any noise, he's dead (He said this after the attack, and he was sobbing before leaving the residence).

Foothill Farms

Attack #25

I have a .357 Magnum. Do as I say or I'll blow your fucking head off.
Tie him up, and you better tie him tight or you're dead.
If you don't do as I say, I'll fucking kill you all. I'll cut off all your fingers (this was said to the husband, as he put the barrel of his gun to his head).
My friend is in the car waiting for me. Tell the pigs I'll be back on New Year's Eve. (He stuttered a lot when talking about the "pigs").

There's not much-recorded dialogue, but he repeatedly threatened them both and used vulgar language. He wept a lot and failed to ejaculate through his many attempts at assaulting the female.

Attack #28

Get up or I'll hurt your son!
Walk down the hall into the living room and get on your knees!
You think you're smart, but I'm smarter than you are (he looked out of the window and saw children playing in the streets when he made this comment).

The victim claimed he hardly talked; he was quiet. He also confused her daughter with a boy because she had short hair. He wasn't at the residence long and didn't sexually assault her.

Modesto

Attack #32

Wake up, motherfuckers! I have a .357 Magnum and I'll blow your fucking brains out if you move. Now get on your stomachs and put your hands behind your back!
Here. Tie him tight! (He threw shoelaces at the female).
I'm only here for money and food for my van, and then I'll leave (he left to ransack).
If any of you move, there will be two dead people. Now get off the bed! (He cut the shoelaces binding her ankles).
Don't you move or I'll kill your fucking kid (he used this threat on the husband, placing the muzzle of his gun to his temple). I'm going to rape your wife.

There aren't any other details regarding the conversations held. He issued many death threats by blowing their heads off.

Attack #34

Shut your dog up or I'll blow your fucking head off.
Roll over!
You! Tie his hands. Make it tight and don't try anything!
Get on your stomach. You better lay still or you're fucking dead. I just need food and money for my van.
Don't try and kick me or I'll blow your head off. If you try anything, I'll fucking kill your wife and it will be your fault (he left to ransack the home for thirty minutes).
What the fuck are you doing? Get away from him! You're trying to untie him! (He returned after ransacking and dragged the wife into the living room).
If I here these dishes cling together, I'll blow your wife's fucking head off. (He said this after taking the wife into the living room. He proceeded to rape and threaten to kill the wife with a knife before leaving the home).

Davis

Attack #33

Wake up! I'm only here for money and food. If you obey, I won't hurt you.
Put your hands behind your back or I'll blow your head off.
Shut up! I told you, I'm only here for money and food! (She was screaming because of how tight he bound her wrists).
If you try moving, you'll never see your friends again!
I said not to fucking move! Be quiet! (She tried resisting him and kicked him in the thigh, to which he punched her repeatedly in the face).
Be quiet or I'll kill you. Now play with my dick! (He continued his vulgarity, assaulted her, and left the apartment).

Attack #35

Don't fucking move or I'll kill you. Do you see this .357 Magnum? I'll blow your fucking heads off. If you move, your blood will be all over the walls.
I'm only wanting money and food. I gotta have money for gas.
Tie his hands behind his back! Run the rope between his hands! Between his hands, I said! (He then bound the wife and rummaged through their closet).
Don't say a fucking word or you're all dead.
Where's your money? (He told them to shut up when they spoke. He went to ransack the home and the family's ten-year-old son woke up. He put him in the bathroom and commanded him to be quiet, and placed dishes at the door to alert him if he tried escaping).
Your son better stay in the bathroom or I'll stab you in the back with this icepick. I said I only wanted money and food. Don't make me kill everyone in here!
You better make me feel good. If you try and bite me, I'll take my knife and stab you in the back! (He took the wife into the living room, using her nickname when attacking her).
Tell me where your fucking money is (he said this after the assault and began to cry, and then left the residence).

Attack #36

Do you see this gun? If you move, I'll blow your fucking head off. Get on your stomach or I'll kill your two boys. (he repeated this many times).
I need food and gas money for my van.
Guess what this is! What's in your hands? (He had blindfolded her and placed his penis in her hands). Play with it!
If you move, I'll kill you with my knife! (He stuttered when he spoke with vitriol).
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, Bonnie (he said this while weeping after raping the victim).

Concord

Attack #37

I'll kill you both if you don't do as I say. I only want money and food (he was seemingly hyperventilating when he said this).
Get on your stomachs and put your hands behind your back.
You! Tie his hands. Make it tighter. That's not tight enough! (He made the female bind the male before subduing her).
If either of you looks at me, I'll kill you. Keep your faces down or I'll blow your heads off. (He ransacked the bedroom).
Where's your wallet and purse? Is this all the money you have (he left the room and returned with a stack of dishes)?
I better not hear these dishes rattle or I'll cut your fucking head off. (He put the dishes on the husband's back and took the wife into the living room).
If you don't do as I say, everyone in here will die. Lay down (he said this to the wife).
My main man wants gold and silver.
You better fuck me good or I'll kill you. I'll cut your baby's ear off and bring it to you!
I've wanted to fuck you for a long time (he used her real name in this exchange, and when he finished he cried and left the home).

Attack #38

Wake up! Don't move or scream or I'll blow your fucking heads off.
I don't want to hurt you. I'm only wanting money and food for my girlfriend. Now, put your hands behind your backs! (He said this multiple times throughout the attack).
Tie him tight or you're dead! (He threw shoelaces at the female).
Tell her to shut up or I'll kill you all! (The family's eight-year-old daughter woke up and saw what the intruder was doing).
Get into the bathroom and be quiet! (He took the daughter into the bathroom and put a dresser in front of the door to contain her).
Get down and lay on your stomach. If you want to live you'll give me the best fuck of my life or you're dead. Play with it!
Here, put this in the car (he said this to an unknown "person" after raping the wife and ransacking the garage. He left afterward).

San Ramon

Attack #39

Wake up. Be quiet or I'll kill you, motherfucker.
Tie his hands, now!
Where's your money? All of it. I know you have some and if you lie I'll kill you both (the wife said her money was in the purse and he ransacked the house).
Where is it? I can't find it. Come with me! Get on the fucking kitchen floor.
I've seen you at the lake and thought you looked really good. Every time I see you, you make me hard.
Whisper, whisper, motherfucker! (He said this after the wife asked which lake),
If you move or make a sound, I'll kill you (he said this multiple times to the husband after stacking dishes on his back and using his gun to intimidate him).
Suck my dick. Don't hurt me or I'll fucking kill you (he raped her then left her alone momentarily).
I like your ring and I want it. (He left shortly thereafter when the victim said a limo was picking her up to escort her to the airport).

San Jose

Attack #40

Don't move or make a sound or I'll kill you. I just want something to eat. I'm only here for money and food. Do you understand? (He said this after she screamed).

There is very little information on this assault.

Attack #41

Shut up! Don't look at me or I'll kill you.
Don't move, motherfucker. If you try that again, you're fucking dead (the husband attempted to get out of bed and the assailant retaliated by punching him twice).
Get on your stomach, motherfucker. You, tie his hands behind his back. Make it tight.
If the two of you move, I'll fucking kill you. I only want money and food because I'm hungry (he said this after subduing them and ransacked the home).
Don't move. I'll hear these dishes rattle if you do and then I'll kill you (he placed dishes on the male's back and took the wife into another room. They fell off multiple times and he threatened him when he heard the noise).
I've been watching you. I've wanted to fuck you for a long time. Now play with it. Don't hurt it. Make it feel good or I'll slit your throat (he used her real name when speaking to her).
Don't scream or I'll blow your fucking head off (after the foreplay, and proceeded to rape her).
You motherfucker. You motherfucker! (After the assault, and crying for a few minutes).

Danville

Attack #42

Don't scream or move! I'm not going to hurt you. I just want food and money for my van. I'll kill you if you make a sound (he woke her up by straddling her).
Put your hands behind your back and cross your feet.
Where's your money? Tell me where your money is. I need it for my van.
You raise my dick every time I see you. Do you like to fuck? (He used her real name).

Not much else is known regarding the dialogue. He repeated his need for food and money for his van. The homework pages and Punishment map were found after the police arrived at the scene).

Attack #46

Don't move or I'll blow your motherfucking heads off. I just want your money. (He said this multiple times).
Get on your stomachs and put your hands behind your back.
You! Tie him. Do it tight. Tighter, I said! (He threw shoelaces at the wife).
As soon as you give us money, I'll go back to the city. Don't fucking move (he left to ransacked the home).
You moved! You tried untying him, didn't you? (After returning).
I can't find your purse. Where is it? (He took her to the living room and returned to the husband to stack items on his back).
If I hear these bottles rattle, I'm going to blow your fucking head off, and there's nothing you can do about it (he cocked the trigger of his gun on placed it on the husband's head; then returned to the wife).
I'm hungry and going to get something to eat (he grabbed a beer from the fridge).
I want to fuck you. Stroke my cock and suck it (he addressed her by her name but was pronouncing it wrong).
I'll be back. I need to take these to my van. If you move I'll blow your fucking head off (he said this after the assault when he started ransacking again. He left and never returned).

Attack #48

The perpetrator did not speak in this attack because it had been thwarted by the husband, who got the jump on him and cornered him. He told his wife to run downstairs and call for help, and ran to her aid when he believed she was safe.

Fremont

Attack #44

Don't move, motherfucker, or I'll blow your head off. Get on your fucking stomachs, or I"ll cut your heads off (he kept repeating this).
Tie his hands behind his back! Don't look at me, either. Tighter! I said tighter!
I'm hungry and want something to eat (he said this after restraining them).
Where's your purse? (He left to search the home and garage).
Get the fuck away from him! Get on the floor, you're coming with me! (He mentioned this after returning to the room).
Don't scream! Whisper, bitch. If you do what I ask, I'll get the money and food for my van and leave.

Not much else is discussed in terms of dialogue. He raped her several times, and left the home with stolen items.

Walnut Creek

Attack #45

Shut up! Don't fucking look at me or I'll cut your throat (he surprised the babysitter while she was doing homework at the kitchen table, and he took her to the master bedroom).
Don't make a sound. Get on the bed and put your hands behind your back! I just want your fucking money.
Have you ever been fucked? Play with my cock (he physically assaulted her and kept rolling her onto her stomach and back, and even bit her breast three times that left teeth marks).
Don't move! I'm going to leave. If I hear you fucking scream I'll cut your throat (he left thereafter).

Attack #47

Be quiet or I'll stab you! I'm not going to kill you. I just want your money (he rummaged through the victim's bedroom).
Have you ever been fucked before? Rub my cock! Make it feel good or I'll fucking kill you with my knife. Roll over and spread your legs!
Just do as I say and I won't harm you. Gimme a good drop or you're fucking dead (he then assaulted and restrained her).
Don't make a noise. I'm looking, looking, looking, for money, money, money (he said this with a stutter, and he left shortly after).

The victim was thirteen-years-old, and the assailant only stayed in her bedroom while he father and sister were asleep in another room. He brought his own lotion and was wearing jogging attire.

Goleta

Attack #49

Wake up! Get on your stomachs. If you move or look at me, motherfucker, I'll kill you. I need money!
Tie his hands. Make them tight or I'll kill you (he threw bindings to the female).
Tell me where your money is and I won't hurt you. I need it (he repeated this three times and went looking for the female's purse).
I can't find your purse! Show me where it is. One move, motherfucker, and I'll kill you (he threatened the male and led the female to behind the couch).
Get on the floor! I'm going to kill you and cut your throat (he draped tennis shorts over her head and masturbated as he made this comment).
I'll kill them. I'll kill them. I'll kill them (he repeated this as he was pacing back and forth through the kitchen and hallway).
You fucking bitch! I told you to be quiet! (When he walked into the hallway to check on the male, the female ran outside and fell against the side of her house, causing the intruder to run after her and drag her back inside).

After this exchange, no more dialogue was reported. By the time the assailant got back inside, the male was trying to make an escape out of the back entrance. Ultimately, the assault was botched and the intruder fled the home.

I know this may seem like a very disorganized format (which it is). When I was compiling the information together, I wasn't sure how to actually lay out the dialogue properly. I decided to focus on all of the attacks specifically in each town. Whether any connections can be formulated by this strategy remains to be seen, but I wanted to try a different perspective when examining the crimes.

I don't expect this approach to have a significant impact because I understand there are many factors that play a role in each crime, such as the day of the week, year, timing, and victims themselves -- since there aren't transcripts of his conversations in every attack. Most of the information presented comes from the victims after they managed to alert the police.

It would be naive to assume they remember every word the perpetrator said. We have to keep in mind they just experienced a traumatic event. Those type of experiences affects people differently. Some people are in total shock and other people may block out the events that transpired, while others can remember every detail because their senses were heightened when trying to survive.

Nevertheless, we have to work with what we got. It's better than nothing and it's worth examining. Sometimes, looking at things differently with fresh eyes can create new avenues and evidence to explore.

Submitted December 31, 2017 at 11:50PM by Nerdfather1 http://ift.tt/2lswIeV UnresolvedMysteries

Wrong Number nosleep

CALL #1, 6.33p.m. 16 / 11 / 17 -UNAVAILABLE-

I switched my attention from the caller ID box to the answering machine directly beside it, both sitting on the kitchen table beneath the wall-mounted telephone. A red digital ‘1’ showed in the answering machine’s little window.

I hadn’t thought to look at either device until 1:45a.m, even though I had gotten home from my second-shift job before 12:30. Since I had finally bought a new computer and gone online several months ago, I was more concerned with checking and replying to my e-mail, which I had just finished doing. Tonight’s offering: a humorous list of ‘The Top 10 Things That You Should Never Ask A Gay Man’ sent by my workmate, James; a work-at-home scheme; a story about a little girl with a brain tumour the size of a grapefruit, (aren’t all scary tumours the size of grapefruits?) for some reason inoperable, which I was supposed to pass along to five people or presumably I’d grow a brain tumour as well; and an e-mail from my ex-boyfriend, Paul: Gary, I know you could probably shoot me right about now, but I really do care about you, and I always will. Please unblock my number so we can talk. I’m - (DELETE) I was sorry now that I hadn’t read the whole thing. Was it still in my trash can, or would my e-mail service have dumped that already? No – why read it? What was the point? The presence of his words inside that box was a mockery when my flat rang hollow with the absence of his body. He was a ghost in the machine. He was the one who chose to delete me from his life. Insincere guilt did not soothe or comfort me, nor would it pardon or redeem him. Would he send me one of those silly little animated e-mail cards next? (DELETE) I shut off the computer and went to fix myself a late night snack of microwave popcorn. My iPhone played softly through speakers in the other room, and while pouring myself a glass of wine I had finally let my eyes drift to the two devices patiently awaiting my attention atop the kitchen table.

The one and only call, I saw, had been received at 6:33 – when I’d been at work. UNAVAILABLE, the display read, replacing the caller’s number. A bill collector? They were often listed that way, or as an ANONYMOUS CALL, and so when I was home I never picked up a call bearing either of those labels until I heard the message come over the answering machine (and if it was a bill collector, they usually didn’t leave a message anyway). Plus, Paul had taken to withholding his number on several occasions in an attempt to trick me into answering his calls.

I reached out and touched the PLAY button on the answering machine, expecting the few seconds of dead silence that would prove my theory correct. But instead of silence, there was a voice. A youngish man, speaking softly and intimately, so that the first image that sprang to my mind was of lips brushing a mouthpiece:

“It’s me. I’m sorry… I know I promised not to call…”

For a second, I thought it must be Paul, even though it sounded nothing like him. My chest constricted.

“…I know you don’t want to see me. I can’t blame you for being afraid of what I’m doing. I don’t fault you for getting out. It was probably stupid of me not to stop… to just go on with it. Yeah – that’s right; I finished it. Last night I put the stones in the four corners of the room. I drew the sign on each stone. I gave the fourth utterance of ascent, and… and… yeah. And it worked. It happened…”

I didn’t know this voice. I didn’t know what he was talking about. It was a wrong number. He had dialled a number similar to the one he wanted, no doubt.

“…I looked all over the house for it. I thought it would be in the cellar, or the attic, for some reason. It was in the bathroom, of all places. In the corner behind the hamper. I could only see… fog; but it felt cold when I moved the hamper and got close. I thought I heard a sound in there, way back, far off – like monkeys, maybe. A sound like monkeys calling. But, sort of like… electronic sounding…”

I shot an angry look at the microwave, where my popcorn was noisily popping, and the appliance annoyingly humming. I leaned my head down over the answering machine.

“…It’s still there now. But you know, after all my reading… After all this work. After losing you to get this far…I just can’t bring myself to go into…”

“End of messages,” a robotic voice suddenly announced, cutting in. The intense young man was gone. The switch in voices, from emotional to mechanical, startled me and I drew back. The microwave stopped, and only one or two last seeds popped, the bag now swollen like some inoperable tumour.

What had the stranger been going on about? What had he been looking for in his house or apartment? What was it he had found in the bathroom (of all places)?

I played the message back again. It made no more sense to me the second time.

UNAVAILABLE. He had called from someplace where they didn’t have caller ID, then. Or he had purposely withheld his number. Without his number being displayed, I couldn’t call him back to inform him that he’d whispered so intently to someone other than this person he had promised he would never call again.

Wasn’t there some kind of feature called Call Trace? Yes… phone off the receiver, and then punch in a few digits. But what was the number? It was four digit, right? I couldn’t recall it; and anyway, would it be able to trace an ‘unavailable’ call?

What did it matter? He was a stranger. But I had been drawn in, I had to admit, by his earnest sounding emotion. The touch of bitter, regretful humour in his words. By the warm, dark sound of his voice. Here was a man who still loved the person he was calling. It was the other person who had broken it off with him, I figured. He still wanted to be with them. How lucky they were, I thought. And what a fool they were.

My eyes were growing moist, as if it were the young man’s pain that moved me.

I touched a button. The robotic voice intoned, “Messages deleted.”

What a long night it had been.

A new Brazilian co-worker had flirted with me. He wasn’t bad looking, but at the end of the shift James had told me he was married, with kids. Shocker.

A long, long night, I thought as I let myself into my flat. Not popcorn tonight, with its low dietary points. Ice cream. Ice cream for sure.

But before I went to the refrigerator, before I checked my e-mail, before, even, I removed my coat, I glanced over at the kitchen table.

A red digital ‘1’ had appeared once again on the answering machine. I stepped nearer to see the caller ID’s display. It read: CALL #1, 8:43p.m. 17 / 11 / 17 -UNAVAILABLE- Without even removing my gloves, I pressed the PLAY button on my answering machine.

Tonight, I recognised the voice; as if it were someone I knew.

“I didn’t think you’d call me back. Then again, I hope I have the right number. I copied it out of your brother’s book, very quickly, when he was out of the room. I’m sure that’s enough to make you furious in itself. But I wish you’d talk to me. I wish…”

He sighed; trailed off. A few seconds of silence.

Hurry up, I wordlessly urged him, before your time runs out.

“I still haven’t gone through. I’m just plain afraid. Those sounds in there… And it’s so dark and cold. Last night I could barely sleep, knowing it was in the house, just a few rooms away from me. I’m keeping the bathroom door shut, but I can’t lock it from the outside. I should at least screw in an eye-hook latch or something. Humph – like that would stop anything that wanted to come through…”

I suddenly found myself unaccountably glancing up at my own bathroom, which opened off from the kitchen. Unlit, murky inside. Since childhood I had had a fear of looking in the mirror and seeing someone standing behind my shoulder, only in the glass. A ghost. Or something worse, perhaps…

The young man continued in his hushed, melancholy voice.

“You were right to get out. I should have listened. I took it too far. I really don’t think I’m going to have the guts to go in there. I think…I really think I need to close it up again. That’s what I’m going to have to do. I’m just afraid that if any of them see it from their side, they’ll be a lot braver than I am. They’ll want to come here. Not to learn, not to explore… I don’t even want to imagine what…”

“End of messages.”

“Bastard,” I hissed under my breath at the robot.

Well, my new man was in some kind of danger then. But who were these people he feared? What had he done that might draw their attention to him?

Who am I kidding? He’s crazy. He’s obviously crazy. Or on drugs. Or both.

I played the message back again, and this time, having already listened to the words, I noticed another sound behind them. It lasted only a fraction of a second, and it came right before the tape allocated for his message ran out. Right before he said, “…imagine what…”

I played the tape a third time. I leaned so close to the machine that its sound became distorted, but at least I heard that funny little background sound again. It was a distant squeal of high pitched laughter, I guessed. From a child. Maybe a cat’s drawn out meow, perhaps? A pet tropical bird, making an odd sound… trying to form words?

(“Monkeys calling… electronic sounding…”)

Stop it. I’m letting his delusions become my delusions I thought, disgusted at myself and the goose flesh I’d raised on my arms.

I deleted the message, removed my coat and stepped into the bathroom to pee.

I put the light on quickly, however – not wanting to see the mirror in the dark.

The next night there were two messages left on my machine, like letters written by an old friend, a lover called away overseas, brimming with contents that ached to be opened.

The first message had come in at 11:43p.m, the second at 11:45.

Damn. Why couldn’t he have called just a little bit later? I would have been home to pick up at last… Pick up and what? Tell him he had the wrong number? But then he’d stop calling, wouldn’t he?

No. Not if I asked him what was troubling him so. Not if I asked him if I – unlike his callous lover – could help him.

I squeezed my gloves into a ball. Unsqueezed them. Squeezed them; like a heart I was manually pumping. I’m losing my mind.

But then my eyes returned to the twin machines on the table, and I played the first message on the tape. The whisper was softer, more intense than ever. It seemed to come through a blizzard of static, to make matters worse. Had he switched to a mobile phone with a weak battery? Or was something interfering with the connection?

“Two of them came through tonight – I pray to God it was only two. I was in the bedroom; I stayed home all day. I don’t dare go to work, to go out at all, with the doorway open like that. I was in the bedroom…” there was a pause here, as if the caller had stopped to listen for something. “…and I heard something like feet pattering in the kitchen. A sound like children giggling. I rushed out – without a weapon, like an idiot – and I saw them duck into the bathroom. It was just a second, just a flash… I’m not sure I could really describe them. But… but they were horrible. Dark purple, like they were rotting. Their heads were huge, pulpy; like sacks. Like they didn’t have skulls. And their arms didn’t have bones. They couldn’t have had bones, the way they were moving. They might have been… tentacles…”

My God.

“I’m sure they’ve been stealing my books… my papers. They’re all gone. All of it. They must have carried it all away…”

His sentence was severed, but the tape went on to the next message; this time he had immediately phoned back to continue. Being cut off the first time only seemed to heighten the tone of urgency in his voice.

“I can’t remember the words to close the doorway! I have most of it, but I can’t remember what sign to put on the second stone. And I can’t remember the fourth utterance of descent! Please… please… I know you’re angry at me…”

He was almost in tears now. So was I. I didn’t know why. Did I ache at having to listen to an agonised man go out of his mind? Or did I… believe him, somehow? Poor Gary. Always so gullible when it came to men.

But listen to him! Listen to his sincere emotion!

“…I need your help. I don’t want you to come here – I don’t want you to be in danger, too. But if you remember the things I’m forgetting, please help me! Just this one last time! I beg you, honey, I beg you!”

There was a distant crash behind his last words. Something knocked over in another room?

“I have to go!” he hissed.

“End of messages.”

“No!” I said loudly, accusingly, to the traitorous, taunting machine. A tear coursed down my cheek. “No!” I sobbed, louder still.

He might call back yet. Right? It hadn’t been that long ago. If he had called twice in one night, why not again?

I ran a bath. Put on a vinyl. Made a cup of orange-flavoured hot chocolate. A headache was coming on, so I laid back in the tub with a wet face cloth folded over my eyes. But it was like being blindfolded; it was too dark. I didn’t even want to shut my eyes. Not in the bathroom (of all places).

My eyes traced suspicious cracks in the plaster of the ceiling that I had never taken note of before, then slowly lowered to the corner of the room, just beyond the tub. They scanned sideways, across the toiletries and wipes piled atop my toilet tank. Something had crashed to the floor… something in his bathroom? My eyes returned to the corner. At any moment, I expected to see it yawn open. To feel a frigid breath exhaled from that new opening, like the breath of a dead man. To hear horrible cries deep within the churning mists. To see eyes, perhaps, glinting out at me from between the tendrils of fog. If they even had eyes...

Even as I finally slipped into bed at 3:10a.m, I thought he might call me yet. That I would be awakened by the yearning cry of the phone.

My sleep went undisturbed, however – except by dreams.

Just before I’d drifted off last night, I had decided to stay home from work the next day; to call in sick. This time I’d be there to receive his message when it came.

But in the light of day, I found herself unable to go through with it. When Paul had left me, only a week and a half ago, I had stayed out sick for two consecutive days. The company wouldn’t put up with much more of that.

But at the end of the shift, when Jane – my boss – asked me if I could stay an hour late tonight, I stammered my way out of it, claiming I had a headache.

And as soon as I unlocked the door to my flat, I headed straight to the kitchen table…

The counter on the answering machine read ‘0’.

Slowly I withdrew my finger that brushed the PLAY button.

Had he found the correct phone number, finally? Or had he given up on appealing to his former lover?

Unwilling to believe it was over – this little affair of mine with a man who didn’t even know I was receiving his calls – I checked the caller ID’s dim little window. It, too, showed no calls had been received.

Well, then. Well.

I took off my coat. Reluctantly trudged into my bedroom – where my computer waited for me like a paid lover – to check my e-mail. I had illogically hoped to find a message from my mysterious caller there. But… another chain letter. An animated e-mail card from my mother. Not even anything from Paul. I looked at the contents of my e-mail account’s trash can. It was empty.

They got him. My God, they got him…

From the kitchen came the shrill alert of the telephone.

I pushed my chair back so hard that it nearly toppled. I plunged into the living room, on into the kitchen. I had programmed the machine to start recording after four rings. I knew I would get to it in time to pick up the call myself…

But when I stood over the kitchen table, even though there were still two rings left to go, I found myself unable to take the receiver off the wall. I had to listen first. Screen the call. See if it was him. And even if it was, would I really be able to speak back to him at last?

Third ring…

A glance at the caller ID display. UNAVAILABLE. It might as well be his name.

Fourth ring.

“The person you are trying to reach is unable to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”

Following a beep, the tape began to turn, to record… Dead silence.

A bill collector? At 1:00 in the morning?

But then I heard a faint rustling noise. The subtle shifting of a body on the other end. A wet little sound like someone licking dry lips before speaking. But the static – worse than last night – might have been fooling me. I might be hearing nothing at all…

And then the terrible noises began. They were animal cries of some kind; wild, deranged, deafening. I fell back from the table several steps and clapped my hands over my ears. It was a cacophony. Voices filled with rage and glee. But they sounded like monkeys or tropical birds, whooping and shrieking, as if they were on fire. Banshee wails. The laughter of insane children with tumours like new brains crowding out their skulls.

“End of messages.”

Slowly, timidly, I lowered my hands from my ears. I heard the humming of the refrigerator directly behind me. And that was all.

Where had the calls been originating from? Several towns away? Another country?

I hoped, now, that he had lived very, very far away. Tomorrow I would have my number changed. But for tonight… I took the phone off the hook.

I could only hope that it was the other person – the nameless lover – and not me, not Gary, that tonight’s call had been intended for.

Despite my own fear, however, I felt fresh tears well in my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said very quietly to the two small machines, wishing I could be speaking the words into the mouthpiece instead. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, and reached out to the answering machine once more.

“Messages deleted.”

Submitted December 31, 2017 at 10:57PM by abcdefgaryyy http://ift.tt/2q7EsId nosleep

5-year-old dog suddenly showing neurotic behavior; opening cabinets, knocking down trash, opening fridge, etc. Dogtraining

To paint the picture: My parents have three dogs (13-year-old Gordon Setter, 5-year-old English Setter, 1.5-year-old rescue/mutt). I grew up with the 13-year-old and the 5-year-old, but after moving out of the house for college 5 years ago, I only ever see the dogs when I'm home to visit (they normally now live with my mom and stepdad). These instances I'm about to explain ONLY ever happen when we're all out of the house, or are upstairs sleeping.

The issue: my 5-year-old English Setter has always been very attached to his people (me, my mom, and my stepdad), and has a very sweet, calm disposition. Pretty smart too, he figured out how to stand up and press his paw on the ice machine on the refrigerator to get an ice cube when he was puppy. Never was a problem dog.

However, in the past 5-6 months, he's really causing mayhem for my parents and it's escalating.

1) - First, he learned how to open the heavy-duty, complicated mechanical garbage can in the kitchen and would knock it over to get into the trash. 2) - Then, we put the trash can into the bathroom and close the door, but we'd come home (or downstairs in the morning) the door would be open and trash down. 3) - Then, we switched to a smaller trash can to put on top of the fridge. He learned how to leap onto the counter to knock down the trash. 4) - And now that we put the trash upstairs whenever we leave the house, he goes on the top of the fridge anyway and knocks over whatever we have up there (potatoes, tinfoil, whatever) 5) - He also learned to open ALL the kitchen cabinets, and now we've lost track of how many times he's gotten into the cabinets and ripped up bags of flour, boxes of soup, etc.

So now whenever we leave the house we blockade all the cabinets with chairs, bring the garbage upstairs, make sure the bathroom door is open so he doesn't scratch it and ruin the door... you get the picture and see how inconvenient this is.

Not only is it inconvenient, but I'm really stumped as to why he's showing this behavior. My parents work from home, he plays with the other dogs, they have lots of toys, and they all go to the dog park multiple times a week (on top of us living on a lot of property so they have plenty of space to roam), so I really don't think simple boredom is the answer.

I also know that it's the English Setter because I've caught him in the act twice. Both times the mutt was hiding in his crate (I think he knew what was going on was bad, and wanted to go away), and the Gordon Setter is just so old and fragile that there's no way in hell it's him. (Though I'm sure he enjoys rummaging through the garbage once it's on the floor).

Sorry this is so long. I would love ANY and all help and insight. As much as we want to stop being inconvenienced in our daily lives, I want to know why my pup is acting so oddly.

Thank you!

Submitted December 31, 2017 at 10:11PM by tatertotski http://ift.tt/2CjgOOA Dogtraining

How To Deal With Massive, Murderous, Home-Invading Plants That Eat Living Things nosleep

Knock knock knock.

“Mike?” I said. “Come on, man. It’s been over a week.” I knocked again, and only after the third rap did the bolt loosen and the door creaked open, just a bit; just enough for me to see and smell all the filth inside and just enough for my neighbor to see me.

“Hey, Dave.”

“Where’s my weed wacker?” I said. “ I need it.”

He scratched his head and bit his lower lip and looked down at his feet. “Ayep. Uh… about that.” And then he opened the door wider and waved me inside. “Don’t mind the mess,” he said. “Ain’t cleaned up in a good little while.”

As I followed him to the back of the house I stepped over small mountain ranges of molded over carry-out boxes and magazines and the contents of overflowing ashtrays and all flavors and types of filth I couldn’t identify. Under my breath I said, “No shit.”

I followed him through the den and through the kitchen - just as disgusting as the room before - and from there Mike took me out the back door and down the steps and into his rear yard. There was debris and trash all throughout; where there was grass it stood at waist height, and where there wasn’t there was only gravel and weeds and empty bottles of beer. In the corner was the filthy above-ground pool and his dog, Chester, chewing on a toeless boot. The mutt paid no heed to my presence.

“A’ight, here it is, man. Sorry.” I looked back at him just as he handed me both halves of the wacker. I blinked.

“What the hell-? You broke it?!”

He shrugged. “Like I said. Sorry. Thing weren’t cut out for dealin’ with them plants.”

“The fuck’s the matter with you?! The hell were you doing with it, trying to sharpen the blades on rocks?!”

“Pretty much. Them weeds is hard as metal, boy, I swear they are.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder as he spoke, and for the first time I saw - or at least noticed - the bizarre, twisting fauna that’d climbed over the chain link and all but consumed the back third of the lot. The vines, or whatever in God’s name they were, were massive and thick and pulsing with phlegm colored flower buds and bristling with thorns. “Took the wacker to ‘em back when the damn things actually looked like weeds,” he said. “Wacker got itself all caught in the thicket and snapped in two. An’ since then those vines just got bigger an’ bigger an’ they aint slowin’ down a wink. Dunno what I’m gonna do when they reach the house.”

To no one in particular I mumbled, “The hell are those?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. You said you needed the wacker, right? You got them things at your place?”

“Not like that.”

“What, they just normal lookin’ weeds, right? Shootin’ up from between the rocks, fast an’ tall?”

“Y-yeah. But they just look like normal weeds.”

“Yeah, like I said. That’s how them things looked too. Least at first. An’ that weren’t more’n a week back. Maybe less.”

“Th-they started like normal weeds and turned into those?” I said.

“Yessir. I ain’t no science type but I reckon you don’t gotta be to know this ain’t normal. Whole neighborhood north o’ here’s got it bad, too. Henson’s yards fill of the damn things. Pat’s yard too, an’ Clarke’s.”

“And no one knows where it came from?”

“Just word of mouth at this point, since I ain’t been up to the hill. But they’re sayin’ it came from Simon’s place.”

“Who, Ed Simon? Weird old guy up on the Ridge?”

“Ayep. They say he been up to one o’ his weird ol’ experiments again. An’ somethin’ went real bad.”

—-

I took my leave of Mike, sans the tool I’d gone there to retrieve, and headed to my home a block and a half to the south. I drove slowly too, and made sure to take in the sights on the street. Sure enough, the weeds were growing fast all throughout the neighborhood. Mailboxes were under siege, as were lamp posts and stop signs and storm drains and any vehicles that’d been parked for more than a day or two at a time.

I parked my own car when I made it home and immediately went to the edge of the driveway, where the weeds had grown at the most noticeably alarming rate. With a stick I poked one of the things, and to my considerable shock it leapt off the wall and grabbed the twig and wrapped around it like a serpent and absorbed it into its mass. “Holy shit,” I said. And after I caught my breath I added, “What the hell is this stuff?”

And Mike, I soon discovered, hadn’t in the slightest exaggerated about the rate of growth. By Tuesday the things were at the base of the first floor windows of the house. By Thursday they’d curled so tightly around the mailbox that the wood of the post there had splintered; the structure of it remained upright simply because the infrastructure of the vines allowed it to. By Friday the things had covered the window glass and that of the neighbors house too, on both sides of my property.

And nothing either I or my neighbors tried - be it the poison or trying to pull them out by the roots - worked, either. Even the chainsaw Aaron and I used on the fence separating our yards broke when the vines there whirled around and wrapped around the blades and stopped the whirring in an instant before folding over the bulk of the machine and absorbing that too. We’d shared a look that said, Were in some serious trouble. Mhm.

On Saturday, when I noticed the glass of my back kitchen window beginning to chip and crack under the weight of a vine that’d sprung up against it not forty-eight hours prior, I decided enough was enough. I was going to pay Ed Simon a visit. So I threw on some clothes and jumped in the car and took the thing on the looping road to the Ridge. And as I drove I took careful, deep note of the state of things around the neighborhood.

Few cars still remained - and a portion of the handful that did was done over so thoroughly in twisting, thorn-covered vines that even if their owners had wished to evacuate with the rest of the locals they couldn’t have done so in those vehicles. Many houses were utterly besieged by plant-growth; window-glass was broken, roofs were missing shingles. In some of the more cheaply constructed residences the very shape of their structure was beginning to bend around the forest that was springing up where not days earlier there was little else but knee-high shrubs.

But none of it even remotely compared to the degree of ruin Ed Simon’s house was in when I parked the car. It seemed as though the full structure of the place had been built around that of the mighty vine-tree that’d sprouted from its midst and which now formed a modest canopy over his lot. For a brief moment I was a bit too overcome with dread to move forward, but when I considered my options (either solve this here and now or return home and await a similar fate that the insurance company would almost certainly not cover), I realized I had little choice. And so forward I went.

When I knocked on the door there was no response, and when I grabbed the knob and turned it and pulled the door came fully off its hinges. A quick glance at the fastens revealed they’d been pushed out of place by merciless plant-growth.

“Ed?” I called out. “Its Dave, from down the street. You in here?” If he was the responding silence gave no indication of it. “Ed?”

I moved further down the halls. It was a pleasant enough place - was being the operative word - but since the onslaught began it’d been twisted and broken and splintered and misshapen as if by an earthquake. The halls no longer connected neatly with the rooms at either end of them. The furniture had either been consumed by vines that’d shot up from the floorboards (themselves tossed aside by the sprouts), or toppled over or, in the most severe cases, thrown to the end of the room at the bottom of an incline brought on by what could only have been a monstrous presence growing beneath the house. I wiped a bead of sweat. “Ed?”

Still nothing, except the ongoing sound of creaks and groans as the house struggled to maintain its integrity as the plants grew through it and around it. I moved in further. More groans. More creaks. I noticed the floorboards splitting and splintering beneath my feet and nearly leapt to more even ground before the same began there too. I picked up the pace. How fast is this shit growing?

“Ed! You in here?”

No answer. I made it into the kitchen where vines had burst through the drywall and nudged the refrigerator into a compromising angle - any further such leaning and it would fall - and there was a considerable amount of shattered glass beneath the pantry too. When I looked up I saw the cabinet there emptied of dishes; all had been pushed by invasive plants onto the ground. I didn’t linger there any longer. Instead I took the stairs to the left and descended them, two at a time, onto the ground floor.

It was then that I noticed how dark the place was. There hadn’t been any light upstairs either, but there was enough natural daylight to make up for its absence. Here, though, I could hardly see a thing at all. I tried the switch at the bottom of the stairs and couldn’t say I was surprised when nothing happened. I took out my phone’s flashlight and swept it across the room. The place was in spectacular and growing state of ruin.

“Ed?” The house responded with further creaks and groans. “Anyone home?” I turned the corner and descended yet another set of stairs into the basement proper, where the smell became quite nearly overpowering in its strength. “God damn. Ed! Tell me where you are! I’m here to h-”

But I stopped when my foot fell onto something warm and squishy. I turned my phone down onto the floor and nearly dropped it from shock, right onto the remnants of Ed’s terrier mix Guinness - who’d been trapped and strangled to death by vines and who was in an advanced and nauseating state of decay. Instantly I threw up last night’s casserole onto the mess and stumbled backwards onto my back slammed into a metal workman’s bench by the door. I turned around.

Notes. Pictures. Beakers. Newspaper cutouts. Numbers on a chalkboard that’d been used and reused and erased so many times it was hardly legible at all. The hell’s Simon been up to?

I looked at the mess in detail and flipped through the countless notepads and scribbles. Plants. Experimental fauna. Pando. I’d heard of Pando - the massive Utahn forest all connected by an extensive root network into a single organism. From the look of things Mr. Simon had been trying to uncover the secrets of the thing and replicate it. And somewhere along the way things took an unnerving downturn.

12/1 - Achieved rapid growth in the aspens, one scribbled journal entry read. Almost too rapid. Vines grew a full inch in under six hours.

12/4 - Worked up a special poison that should take these things out. Works like chemotherapy, almost - heads into the fast-dividing cells that help the tree grow, and shuts them down right in the nucleus.

12/5 - Well that didn’t work. At all. Did I mutate this thing? Will do further research to find out. But if anything the rate of growth has increased.

12/8 - still unsure about the nature of this poison. I tried it on an isolated specimen to watch its progress more carefully, and hell if the thing didn’t speed up its growth tenfold. Will need a new substance to combat this. Beginning to think this whole damned experiment was a real shitty idea.

12/10 - The isolated vine has merged with the maternal colony and been absorbed into that organism. Unsure about the mechanics of how that happened; I’m sure some bookworms at the university would love to work all that out. But this is too dangerous a thing to keep in my basement. Will hopefully have the new poison completed by the end of the week. Can’t come too soon.

12/15 - Good news at last! The new poison appears to have been successful: I used it on another isolated specimen (kept well out of reach of the maternal organism) and the weed withered and died within seconds. Interestingly, all its labyrinthine sprouts that’d covered the table since I brought it here died too - even the ones that’d been detached for one reason or another - and in quick order. Perhaps the damage can be reversed yet. Of course, I’ll need a much larger dose to deal with the growing monstrosity in the basement. Needless to say I intend to spend the rest of the day and beyond cooking up an adequate amount.

12/18 - The poison is ready. I do hate to have wasted all the effort and all the time I’ve expended into this project. But I’ve taken extensive notes and know exactly how to repeat it; with proper equipment and in an isolated and controlled location, perhaps, I can bring my own Pando to life once again. But this current version - whatever it is - cannot be allowed to live. Already it has grown well beyond even my wildest and most optimistic (or pessimistic?) expectations.

The notes ended there. I flipped through the pad for more, but there wasn’t more than a scribble in the back I assumed was to wet the ink of the pen. I threw the pad in my pocket, just in case, and grabbed my phone again and headed back upstairs where I’d hopefully have enough cell reception to call the police. The house creaked and groaned as I and the plants moved on through it, and then-

”FUCKING HELL!”

I threw myself backwards just as an upshooting vine burst out of the rotted drywall by the main door and spilled all the debris in my path before stretching across the wood, blocking the door. I stood there for a moment, and I blinked, and I yelled again - ”FUCK!” - and I panicked and threw myself into the fray in the hopes that if I brought all my weight and all my momentum against the barrier it’d break, not yet having had time to harden up. I kicked at the thing and I punched it and dug my nails through the flesh of it. But it was no use.

In fact, the effort was less than useless - not only did I fail to force a breakthrough to the exit, but the plant seemed to take offence to my assault; it sprouted subsidiary vines, covered all up in thorns, from the mainmast, and those things whipped and tossed themselves about the room and tore after me.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” I ducked and dove back into the kitchen, where the pantry fell off the wall to make way for a new vine that smashed through where it’d been and split, with half crawling across the ceiling and the other half hurtling towards the floor - and me. Without even getting to my feet I rolled left, down the stairs, and as I tumbled I saw the twin vines collide into one organic mass that redirected itself downwards like a crashing wave. The house shook and buckled and chunks of the wall and bits of railing bannister flew off as they were smashed aside. For my part I scuttled backwards on my hands and feet until I reached the basement door. Then I slammed the door shut and nearly dove down the rest of the stairs - catching nasty splinters in my legs and hands as I did - and reached the bottom and slipped into a dark corner just as the surge of vines burst through the door with negligible effort and tunnelled after me. The frame of the house bent and buckled further; I could hear the wood inside the walls splinter and shatter. The roof began to collapse, but its descent was halted by the mass of the plant and instead it leaned inwards, with its lowermost corner jutting into the basement not inches from where I was hiding.

Only when the vine passed by under the wreckage did I lean my head back up against the bent support beam and close my eyes and catch my breath for a bit. Then I looked up - I could see the sky - and, reasoning I might have signal under the conditions, felt for my phone. Nothing. My heart skipped the same beat it misses when I’m missing it under normal circumstances. But given the situation I felt a bit of true panic was warrented. Fuck.

I fidgeted around some more to search the immediate area. And no sooner did I realize I must’ve dropped it in my bid to escape upstairs then the basement lit up anyway. After another skipped-over heartbeat I looked up and saw that the vine - the mass of which had now wrapped itself throughout much of the basement proper and knocked over the experiment table with the notes - had illuminated the place via a network of snot-colored bioluminescent pods along the length of it. The damn thing was searching for me.

Slowly I crouched down to my hands and knees and, when the bulk of the twisting vine had vanished into the shadows of the basement, I made my break for the incline of the roof. I scratched my knees getting onto the thing, but I ignored that. Then, making no further effort at all to quiet my movement, I scrambled chaotically for the top of the roof and made it to the lip of the split. Beneath me I could hear the manic rummaging of the vine as it moved to follow, but I’d outrun the thing. Or so I thought.

I stood at the top of the ramp and instead of searching for a way down, I stopped. And I looked out at the whole of the yard and beyond, into the neighborhood and beyond that too. This plant - this massive, mighty beast - had spread its vines like tentacles throughout the place and turned itself into a forest. Homes were destroyed. Roads had been split and broken and tossed aside to make way for jutting roots that twisted and curved and settled into knots. It was like a new dimension had replaced our own, and I-

”Shit!”

Before I could react properly or defend myself, I felt loose, whipping vines the size of shoelaces wrap themselves around my ankles and around my left wrist. Then came thicker vines that did the same to my legs at the knee, and my elbow. I fell onto my stomach and the things began dragging me down into the depths of the basement. I tried to scramble for a grip, but even when I caught one it was useless. Fresh vines wrapped themselves around my right arm too, and then around my face - ”Mmmmphhauauuccgghhnnooo!” - and then down I went, unable to kick or scream at all, into the depths of the dark.

I did my best to resist the pull; I struggled and thrashed against the restraints - but all I was doing, I realized, was exhausting myself. If I ever kicked a vine loose two more would replace it before I could exploit the breakthrough. And so I forced myself to relax, to bide my time, savor what little strength of arms I had left for what I assumed would be a death struggle.

And I watched, too, as the ruined cement of the basement gave way to soil and mud and dirt and filth and knotted roots and all the worms and insect life teeming within. The Plant, I realized, hadn’t made its home in the basement. It was too big for that. No, it had burrowed beneath it, tunnelled into the depths of the earth itself and had spread its roots like spears throughout the dirt there. A superorganism indeed.

After an extended period of being pulled through hotter and hotter and thicker air I began to sense a slowing down. And then that intuition was confirmed when I was shifted upright - a position that’d been impossible to achieve in the tunnel - and only then did I see I’d been taken to a chamber of impossible size with the pulsing heart of the Tree at its center, from which roots and vines jutted out in all directions, burrowing through the soil and each forming their own basis for a forest. The Tree itself was a twisted, knotted monstrosity; it was made of a type of wood I couldn’t recognize at all. It was lit only by those bioluminescent pods that shed bits of light through the cracks in the bark. And protecting it was what appeared to be an impenetrable matrix of thorns and bristles and jagged branches. The vine that’d captured me took me in deeper and deeper towards the center, close enough where I could see other, smaller pods emitting small spore-clouds of glowing dust that I did my best not to inhale. I watched the motes of the stuff descend to the ground, and where they landed a fresh plant sprung up and was quickly absorbed into the mass of the Mother Tree.

But I saw something else, too. Ed Simon was in there, not far from where I’d been stopped and almost within arms reach. Through the bramble surrounding my mouth I managed, “E-ed? Ed, c-can you hear m-me?”

A pulsing blast of light from one of the pods on the bark illuminated him further, then, and I noticed two things. One, he was dead. Long dead. Broken and twisted and with a face stuck in a permanent state of horror and shock. Through his mouth and ears and nostrils - and even his now emptied eye sockets - roots and branches had burst forth; now he was little more than a shell-host for further plant growth. But I also saw cradled in his grip a sizeable canister containing what could only have been the poison, and when the bioluminescence pulsed again I saw exactly how such a mechanism worked, too - a simple trigger released the contents of the canister.

But I had no time at all to reach for it before the captor Vine had slammed me right up against the trunk of the Mother Tree, where I was bound by fresh branches and twigs and whipping, thorned-vines that burst from the bark and wrapped around me. I squirmed and thrashed and tried to throw my weight back and forth, but it produced nothing except fruitless exhaustion.

And then the vines began to crawl. First they spidered their way up my arm. Then they crawled up my chest and towards my face.

“N-no, no, no! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

Needless to say they didn’t respond to the request. Instead they inched ever forward towards my head and wrapped loosely around my throat while I screamed. When they approached my mouth I snapped my jaw shut and grit my teeth and sealed my lips and did everything I could to resist the invasion. Then the vines began to pry my lips open, and I turned my head.

As they reached the outer layer of my ear and my nostrils I saw Ed again, not a full arm’s length to my left but entombed in bark. His fate would be mine if I didn’t act quickly. Fortunately, my left leg was free below the waist, as the vines were busy attempting to infiltrate my skull. I kicked the Mother Tree as I hard as my compromised position would allow. The vines ignored me. But Ed shifted, ever so slightly. I kicked again, and reached out the fingers of my trapped left hand. I kicked a third time; Ed shifted a bit more and loosened his grip on the Canister. It began to slide, ever so slightly, down in my direction.

The vines had now entered my right ear and were slowly advancing inwards. I could hear them, millimeters from my ear drum, scraping and scratching and crawling and spidering their way in. I turned my head as far as I could towards my shoulder to slow its growth, and it worked, for a bit. But it did nothing to stop the other vines that were now entering my nose, and which had pried open my lips and begun to work on slithering through my grit teeth. Another vine formation had ascended from above and begun working its way towards my left ear, and there was little at all I could do to stop it.

I kicked again. The Canister fell, finally, out of Ed’s grip and only with an excruciating stretch and twist of my leg did I manage to catch the backstrap of the thing before it tumbled to a ground so far away it couldn’t be seen in the absence of light. Then I twisted and stretched further; I bent my leg up until the outermost edge of my extended left-hand middle finger grabbed the strap, and I worked and pulled it up and with my knee as balance turned the form of the thing until the trigger was fully in my grasp. By the time the Mother Tree knew what was happening and peeled off my face to trap my hand, it was too late; its own involuntary pulsing and writhing as it shed its glow and produced the spores provided me an opening through the twisted Bark, and I exploited its panicked release of my full left arm and jammed the Canister inside it and squeezed.

Instantly all the bindings keeping me fastened to the Trunk snapped backwards, and down I went, leaving the Canister jammed into the Bark. I fell long enough to feel the rush of wind before it was cut short by landing torso first onto a massive root. The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs, but I couldn’t stop to recover. Instead I picked myself up, slid down the massive Root just as it and several more just like it reared up in agony as the Mother Tree died, and on my way down I hit several more branches and twisted an ankle and smacked my elbow on the edge of a root. But I made it down to a flat Root just beneath the lip of the tunnel through which I’d entered, and with all my remaining strength I grabbed that edge and pulled my bruised body up into the yawn of it. Then I turned around.

The Mother Tree had descended into a state of utter panic, if not something worse. Her twisted Bark had unraveled and her inner life-glow, periodically revealed through those now-dead-still bioluminescent pods, was unveiled fully. The light shuddered and blinked in and out and in again, and all around the bulk of the Tree’s mass the roots and twigs and branches and vines whipped furiously and crashed dead to the ground. Those buried deep in the earth were retracted into the chamber, too, causing the tunnels they’d carved out to collapse with a tremendous rumbling and all the loose soil to pour out into the chamber. For a long moment I was too awestruck at the sight to move.

But then that damned rumbling edged its way closer and closer and closer to me, and by the time I realized the great Vine occupying my tunnel was retreating to die with its source, it was nearly too late; already the walls and ceiling of the path were beginning to shake and stir and dump loose soil onto my shoulders. Without another moment’s hesitation I began frantically climbing up the path as the vine flew the other way.

Come on, come on, come on!

I grabbed anything I could for support - smaller roots, branches, clumps of dirt, rocks and stone - and used their relative stability to boost myself further up. Before long the sight of the dying Mother Tree was behind a hundred feet of earth, but the entrance to the house - if it was still there - was further than that. Every second that passed brought more instability and all the cacophonous noise that came with it. The dirt fell in sheets now, and it filled the air, and from the withdrawing vine inches to my left those plant-spores spilled onto the ground and formed sprouts that died in seconds. Through it all I pushed myself forward, ever forward, blinking madly through the showering dirt and gritting my teeth and squeezing myself down a canal that was narrowing by the second.

”Aaahccckkphhtthh!” The roof of the cavern tunnel suddenly fell in chunks; and for a terrifying moment I was unable to move through it at all. But I survived uncrushed, and threw all my effort into digging through the pile of the stuff that’d formed in front of me while behind me there was only madness and thunderous noise and falling stone, now, to join the dirt. The tunnel to my rear had ceased to exist, and still the vine withdrew itself.

But between the showers of all the falling earth I saw little points of light. The basement was close, I now realized - agonizingly close; I doubled my efforts and trudged on through, and just when I heard the final, tremendous, earth-shattering crash of the tunnel I realized a falling sharp rock had severed the vine as it withdrew, thus preserving the foremost section of it to hold the entrance of the canal up just long enough for me to tumble back out into the basement and no longer. Within seconds of my leaping free the tunnel and the vine with it collapsed into what I now realized was a growing sinkhole centered on where the Mother Tree had resided.

Then chunks of the basement cement were breaking off and tumbling in it as well. I leapt over the splits and gained the lowermost staircase and launched myself up the flight two, three steps at a time as the basement fell inside the earth. Then came the ground floor, and no sooner did the whole home begin to collapse and tumble than I finally, at long last, reached the destroyed roof I’d attempted to escape by before. I half-climbed, and half-ran up the rising slope and leapt clear into the front yard of the estate - twisting my ankle further and rolling sloppily into his fence - just as the house itself broke and tumbled into the pit. I collapsed onto the ground and closed my eyes. And for the first time in hours I felt able to breathe.

The neighborhood, needless to say, was never quite the same. The mighty twisted roots and branches that’d made their home throughout it were dead, fortunately, but they didn’t vanish into the ground and they didn’t wither. They simply stayed there, having destroyed the roads and a half dozen homes (while severely damaging as many others), making much of the place unliveable. My house was still standing. But after an appraisal of the damage brought on to its foundations I realized it was best to liquidate the damn thing - wasn’t worth much anyway - and move elsewhere. Preferably somewhere with as few trees as possible.

As it turns out, though the city isn’t as safe from such pestilence as I’d first imagined it to be. Those little spores - the ones that’d I’ve been finding a bottomless abundance of in clothes and various nooks and crannies of my new apartment, like sand after the beach, are quite formidable, it seems. Whenever one takes root - which they do virtually anywhere they land - it produces a tiny little sprout that usually isn’t too much trouble to rip out before it becomes a nuisance. But there’s always another one. And another after that, and another after that. In the cupboards. In the back of the shower. In the drains. In the rafters. And last night I found two that’d found each other and merged, into a tiny little vine. It was almost cute, back when it was only a half-inch long and tucked away in the corner of the door where there’s just enough in-tracked soil to grow. Almost cute.

But then it ate my damn scissors, and my gardening shears, and fuck, man - I never did grab Simon’s weed poison formula, did I? Anyway. Damn thing’s blocking the way out, now. I hope the couch I’ve laid up against my bedroom door can hold, just a little while lo-

Submitted December 31, 2017 at 08:29PM by TheJesseClark http://ift.tt/2luqtXg nosleep