Eerie night: The thing in the sky

 After the monster porcupine went on its way, my friends and I slowly went back to hanging out and telling stories. We caught up on all the time missed during the summer, periodically moving from the living room to the deck, and back to the living room. I finished The Watchmen, and decided it would be a good idea to stargaze. So, I went out on the deck and hung out for awhile, spending some time with my new friend Jessica. She turned out to be pretty cool. We looked up at the sky, and swapped what if stories about the universe. I kept pointing out satellite dishes, and she kept trying to find them. There was one in particular that caught my eye. Satellites usually follow a straight line as they circle around Earth. They look like stars, but move at an angle in a straight line. I spotted one of these satellites, or what I thought was a satellite. The weird thing about this one was that it moved in a straight line, but stopped and, to my best recollection, zigzagged across the sky. It was pretty cool, but creepy as well. We were pretty sure the 'satellite' was an alien spacecraft. After it disappeared we spent close to an hour trying to find something else that would happen. Something else that would engage us into spending more time beneath the stars. And boy did we find that something. I remember saying, "Oh look a shooting star." And as soon as I said that, something came crashing down from the sky off to our right. It wasn't just anything. It was a flaming ball of fire, according to Jessica. What I saw was something different. I literally saw what looked like a ship of some sort on fire crash landing. It was massive in size, and wasn't on fire with the usual red lighting. This thing had blue and green fire coming from its backside, and looked to be propelled by something at the end. I shit you not, this is what I saw. We saw it crash behind Mount Roberts. And it crashed with ridiculous speed. We saw it for about three seconds before it crashed, that is how fast it was moving. Anyway, when it crashed, all of Mount Juneau lit up red. I mean the whole mountain. Two flashes of red came from behind Mt. Roberts when the object crashed, and for a few moments, it looked like daylight on Mt. Juneau. As soon as it happened I looked at Jessica. We had the same look in our eyes. We had both seen what could have been a plane crash, an alien spacecraft, or what most people have told me was space junk. From time to time garbage is collected in the atmosphere, mainly from spacecrafts, and falls to Earth. The thing about the falling balls of junk is that they are very small in stature when they land on Earth. Most of the time they are only inches in size. Whatever fell from the sky that night looked to be bigger than the Mount Roberts Tram. I remember this because the object fell right behind the tram, and it seemed to be bigger than the tram itself. Jessica and I ran inside to tell the others. It took them a second to believe us. I started calling everybody I knew that could have been awake at midnight. I started by calling everybody I knew that lived downtown and in Douglas. Nobody had seen what we had. Nobody believed it was a craft of some sort. And Nobody had heard of this from anybody else. I was constantly asked if I was taking drugs, if I was on a hallucinogenic. When I finished making phone calls, I sat there. We sat there, Jessica and I, for two hours trying to see if anything else would happen. We were sure that at the very least someone was in trouble, and that the Coast Guard, or somebody was gonna be coming in with helicopters to aid in the situation. We sat there, in the cold, for two hours and nobody came. Laura sat out with us for a little while, and she claimed to have seen what looked like a flare. But nobody else saw it.

It was not until the next day that people started to believe me. Because as it turns out, we were not the only people who saw the thing in the sky. Other people I know that were downtown saw it, and a few from Douglas too. The thing about it is that nobody could agree on what they saw. Some people saw a flaming ball of fire, while others could not describe it. It never made the papers, and the tower at the airport claims it was a test run by the coast guard for an emergency flare. And I only know this because I got the information from someone in the tower. I do know one thing though. The thing from the sky was no kind of flare I have ever seen or heard about before.

Eerie night

This last summer reminded me of how anything can happen. And these things can happen anywhere, at any time. There was one particular night that stood out in my mind. I decided to go to a friends house, on Douglas island (Juneau, AK), and hang out for a while. It was clear out, and the stars sat in their usual spots. We spent a good amount of that night indoors, laughing and telling stories. There were four of us that night, and we will all remember what happened, even if it never reached the papers.
I was watching The Watchmen, which is an amazing movie. I was so into it, so comfortable, that it took Laura three times to get my attention. She kept trying to get me outside on the porch of her upstairs apartment. I asked her if it was really that important, and she said, "You're not going to believe this, we thought it was a bear, but you're gonna have to see it to believe it." I'll give her this, she got my attention. I followed her out on the porch, followed straight to where she was pointing. There is one bright light pole outside her apartment, and something was smack dab in the middle of its light. It was too big to be a dog, and the possibility of it being a bear was moderate at best. When it moved, it did not move like either. Instead, it waddled. And thinking of things that waddled, I knew exactly what it was. This creature was a mammoth sized porcupine. Honestly, the thing must have been four to five feet in length, on all fours. When it started moving towards us Laura's dog began to growl. The porcupine froze. It stopped and looked up at us. The weird thing about porcupines is that they are almost blind. They rely on smell and hearing. So, to see something staring right at you, that shouldn't be able to is scary. I remember the eerie feeling you get when stuff like that happens. I remember what happened to me. I tingled everywhere, leaving goosebumps. I had never seen a porcupine really look at me. At least not one as serious as this one was. For a second I thought the thing was gonna try to attack us. But that would have taken time, seeing that its waddle is the slow motion of a slug on steroids. Instead of attacking us, the porcupine looked left, looked right, and turned around. It took two steps, and I shit you not, sat up on its hind legs. The thing turned its head, looked at us, and flexed its whole body. Every quill stood up, and they weren't like any regular quills I had ever seen. These quills were huge. Anywhere from eight to twelve inches in length. Everybody on the deck took a step back. After proving its worth, the porcupine got back down on all fours, waddled away from the light pole, and back into the woods. I still think the thing was some type of rare animal, some kind of porcupine that is not supposed to exist, at least not here.
As weird a night as it was at that point, it was only gonna get weirder. What we saw later that night had me and a friend calling people, waking them up, and trying to make them believe us.

(A second story will follow)

updated weekly interests

I've been trying to find things that interest me as of late. I went out last weekend for the first time in about a month and a half. It was a lot of fun, really it was. As it lasted a few hours longer than I would have preferred. I pre-partied at a friends house just up the street from downtown. When we got down to the Viking I had drank enough to do it karaoke style. Didn't do that, although I did dance in my wheelchair. Anything more was gonna fuck me up. Well, as soon as I walked in a friend of mine saw me and bought me a pitcher of Bud Light. I assumed we were gonna split it. But no, for some reason he thought it best if I drank it myself. And so did I. Best hangover I've had in a long time. I could have chosen a better time to do it. Spent the next few days in bed and watched whatever didn't want to make me puke.
So, I'm pretty sure I'm addicted to Tru Blood, a series on HBO related to vampires, shapeshifters, and other creepy crawly things. I just finished the second season, only took three days. Blood, heated sex, and conflict outline every aspect of the show. And I couldn't like it more. The intro is the best I've ever seen to a show, and the characters are flawless in their respects. It's funny, and pretty fucking awesome. Any of you Tru Blood fans know what I'm talking about. The show's like an adrenaline rush on top of another adrenaline rush. It's like taking your favorite thing and adding a cheeseburger to it. Pass on the mustard. Priceless.
But too much TV isn't always a good idea, as zombies are easily confused with anemic TV abusers. So, I switched from television shows to computer games. Played a little Starcraft II, nerded it up. Played some Warcraft III, nerded it up some more. Just about did everything to classify myself as a modern day geek. It was a lot of fun, that is, until I had to actually leave my place to get food. See, I've been forgetting to eat sometimes, as it's hard to remember when I actually need to eat anymore. I blame it on the lack of sleep I've been getting lately.
Insomnia, I think I'm contracting the disease! The last week has left me up for hours every night with a brain that won't turn off. I get tired, really tired. But when I close my eyes it's like someone turns on a never ending thought process. I feel like a pilot whale, as they only get 5.3 hours of sleep a night. The difference? They only need that much sleep. I need more. The problem with an inability to sleep is that when you can't sleep all you do is think about it. The more you think about it, the less likely you're gonna be sleeping because you're gonna be thinking about it. Oh well, maybe I'm part pilot whale. Maybe I don't need 8 hours of sleep. Maybe I'm dumb for thinking that, because it's not true. I love to sleep, and anything in the way of that can go fuck
itself.
In the search for interesting things, I will continue the journey. In the meantime, I'm gonna try to get some sleep.

Emergency Room = JOKE

As some of you know, I broke my leg about three weeks ago. And I'm not here to cry about my leg. I'm here to talk about how our hospital's Emergency Room is inadequate, and must be changed.

When I entered the ER, on the night of October 24th, it was around nine'o clock and I had just come from the ice rink where I had collided with a wall. The wall won. I waited in the waiting room for about twenty five minutes, and finally got help from the front desk attendant. She brought me straight into a room and took my vitals. You know, the usual. Anyway, I saw her for about five minutes. The parents showed up about fifteen minutes later and, by the looks of things, they looked tired. I told them what happened, and we waited. Somewhere around ten minutes later a nurse came in and I told him about what happened too. He said we had to wait for the radiologist and that it would be about ten minutes, and asked if I felt comfortable enough to move to the x-ray room, or if I needed 'something for the pain.' Yea, well, let's just say that we waited to take the x-rays. In fact, they came to the room to take them, which was pretty cool. The radiologist was pretty cool. He plays the drums at Squires Bar on Wednesdays. We shot the shit, and he took the x-rays. Everything seemed to be going pretty well. That is, until the radiologist left. My parents and I waited for the next step in the process of getting the hell out of there. I mean, we really waited. It must have been around 45 minutes before we saw anybody else. Well, we saw nurses and doctor's, but they were stationed behind a glass wall. And I was on the other side, like an animal in a cage to be put on show for everyone to see. Finally, a doctor showed up. This is the first time I actually talked to a doctor, mind you. I mean, it was pretty busy that night, but what the hell? He came in, and told me that he looked at the x-rays and gave me what I expected, the bad news. The tibia and fibula had broken and there looked to be some ligament damage. Surgery was a likely scenario, but he couldn't be sure until I talked to an orthopedic doctor (Good thing too, because it turns out I only broke my fibula and not my tibia.). The ligament damage was still there though. Oh yea, and he wanted to take some more x-rays, because he wanted to see the bones from a different view. So, this took somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour to accomplish. And I'm just talking about getting the x-rays done. It was probably a half hour after that until we saw the doctor again. The windowed room across from where I was showed me everything I needed. The doctor was at a computer, and all the nurses and other doctors just sat there while I waited. While my family and I watched them talk amongst themselves and not pay any attention to us. It was ridiculous, we had to grab somebody who was walking by to see what was taking so long. The lady we grabbed went in and talked to the doctor for about twenty seconds and he came right out. The only thing I got from this was that he was wasting our time, that he could have helped us earlier. I hate the ER. It's supposed to be an EMERGENCY ROOM, not a damn waiting room. When he finally came back, I was told we were going to put the foot into a cast for a week until I could see an orthopedic doctor. Then he left again. A female nurse came right after and tried to give me an IV so I could get some pain killers in me, but she missed the veins, twice. She had to get the first nurse I had seen to do it. He got it the first time, and pumped me full of something. It was cold to the touch, and was supposed to make me delirious and not feel anything. Well, I felt a little weird, but besides that, the pain did not go away (I think I'm predispositioned to pain killers for some reason, because when I got surgery nothing was working then either. The doctors kept asking me, "You can really feel that?" It started to freak me out because they also said, "You shouldn't be able to feel that." And when they tried to put me under for surgery, it took longer than was supposed to, to put me to sleep. The anesthesiologist was like, "Breath in, I need you to breath in." My response was, "I am breathing in, see?" And after that he said, "Alright, give me a second." I don't know what he did, but the next thing I remember was waking up. Finally, something had worked.). About twenty minutes went by, and then the doctor showed back up with the male nurse. He told me to lift my leg as much as I could. I did, and the nurse held it. The doctor told me that what happened next was gonna hurt. He never told me what he was going to do, and I automatically thought I had dislocated something. He put my foot against his chest and told me that we had to straighten the foot. O shit, I thought, this IS going to hurt. He grabbed my leg and pulled it towards him until my leg was in the traditional L shape. Man, I wish the medicine would have worked better. It fucking hurt. Anyhow, by the time we got out of there it was about 3:30am. I had been there almost six hours. I was tired, angry, and in pain. 

The reason I'm sharing this with you is because our Emergency Room is a joke. They make people wait for extended periods of time, and ride out the stay of their patients. I would like to think of an ER as a place where people go to get immediate service for whatever is ailing them. But all I think about now is how I never want to go back there (not that I ever wanted to go back). It is a place of wasted time, and wasted money. You see an actual doctor for about five to fifteen minutes the whole time you're there, and you spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars in the process. A part of me thinks they keep you there so they can make more money. If nobody ever says anything, then it's going to be like this forever. And that just doesn't go well with me.

Don't EVER Break Your Leg

I just want to start out by telling you that I don't want you to feel bad for me. That I don't want sympathy, or pity from anybody. The truth is that I feel like a poster board example of why not to break your leg. I can't drive. I can't carry anything that's not in a bag or in my mouth. Let's face it, I can't do a lot of things in my present state, but don't feel bad because I don't either. I understand that people are nice, that they go out of their way to help and that's awesome, but don't treat me like a child. Like a person who has nothing. Because that's just it, I have a lot of things. Sure, I can't play hockey, basketball, or any sports related activities, but I can still have fun. I can shoot the shit with the best of people. Just because my crutches say "I'm handicapped" doesn't mean that I'm totally useless. I can get exercise, it's called going up stairs or going to the bathroom. I can also sit in one place for extended periods of time, on uncomfortable futons, and things of the sort. That is my superhero power. Who wants to see who can be lazier? Don't do it, you'll lose, because I've been staring at the wall for the last week and a half. Sure, I've got a TV, computer, and homework to do, but do you know how hard it is to do homework when you're hopped up on meds? Well, friend, it isn't the easiest time in the world. But I'm not about to bitch about homework, because in the end there is no excuse. It needs to be done, even if I just got out of surgery (That's not true, that was last week. A metal plate, six pins, and a long screw sit idle in what was once a healthy tib-fib.). And for the TV and computer, well, you can only do so many things for each. Movies, I used to love them, still do, but not at the moment. After you go five fives (five movies a day for five days) you tend to want to go a different way. Then there's my laptop, my best friend for the next six weeks. This thing alone has saved me from getting tossed into an insane asylum. I use it to play games, watch movies (not at the moment), and stay in contact with the outside world. I'm a big sports fan, everything sports. I freaking love sports. I play hockey, basketball, soccer, softball, and pool. But not anymore, or at least anytime soon. The only thing I might be able to do is pool, but then I still need to practice shooting in a wheelchair. I did it the other night, and it wasn't so bad. Definitely not as good as I usually am, but not too bad either. The week before I injured myself, I took over the number one spot in Juneau for billiards. I laugh when I think about this, because I've never been able to crack the top five, and here I am with crutches now, trying to  keep the top spot in a wheelchair. But yeah, Sports, I love it all. ESPN is my sanctuary. You know how people wake up in the morning and the first thing they do is go to the bathroom? The first thing I do in the morning is go to ESPN.com. Yea, I'm that crazy about it. I always will be. And my laptop keeps me up to date on everything I need. But, like the watching of movies, there is only so much I can do on my laptop before I get bored. I literally laid on the futon for about an hour the other day trying to think of something to do. I fell asleep. That's been happening a lot. I'm not tired, but just bored, and I fall asleep. I don't like it one bit. Do you know that if you take a nap for just over an hour you wake up more tired than when you fell asleep? It's true, it's all about the REM cycle, and trust me, fuck the REM cycle. All I've been able to do is sleep for tidbits amount of time. And I've been waking up tired everyday. That happens when your in pain, and the meds sometimes don't work like they're supposed to. Two weeks ago, right after I injured my leg, I was sleeping on the couch with my leg propped up. All seemed good, that is until my dream became a reality. I was dreaming that I was fighting someone, and I went to kick him with my left leg, and, this is true, I really kicked my left leg. The problem is that I kicked it right into my broken leg. I woke up screaming. Popped some pills, and a half hour later tried to go back to bed. Needless to say, I was up all night. But don't feel bad for me. I'd rather have you laugh. That way I can bring happiness to the people around me, instead of making them feel bad. Although, anybody who takes walking for granted deserves a swift punch in the jugular. It's no joke, not being able to walk, or run, or even drive a car. You have to wait on people, and then it's not about you, it's about other people, and when they can find time to get to you. It's about work and how you're all by yourself from nine to five. It's about getting something to eat and drink. It's about taking care of yourself. In the end, if there was nobody else there to help you, where would you be?

Part 3: The Craigslist debacle

     This is the final continuation of the Craigslist Debacle.

     "Hello?" I answered the phone calmly.
     A voice answers back, "Yea, I'm calling about the 4runner."
     "Yea, well, it's not for sale. Someone is playing a prank on me. Sorry."
     "Well, what about the TV?" he asks.
     I wait a second before asking, "Umm...What TV?"
     His reply, "The TV, is it for sale? Or is that a joke too? It says on here that you have a 52 inch flat screen TV you're selling too."
     "No, my TV is not for sale either." I hang up and look at Chris, "You aren't gonna believe this."
     "What's that?" He asks.
     I'm too busy checking Craigslist, for another advertisement with my name on it, to answer him. Seconds later I'm staring at what only means more phone calls. I turn around and show it to Chris. An advertisement with my TV is on there. Same background, leaving town, must sell now. And instead of being what it's worth, the mad man posted my TV for half of its value.
     I write another email to Craigslist about the harassment, and try to calm down. My phone keeps ringing, but I'm at the point where I don't even care. I put it on silent and let it be. Nobody is going to fuck with me if I have anything to say about it. Fifteen minutes later I check out the site again, this time for anything that can be traced back to me. All I can do is laugh when I find an advertisement with my name on it regarding my XBOX. That just means that I need to send another email. I look at my phone and see that someone has texted me.
     I look at it, not thinking anything about it because I've only received phone calls from people since this whole thing began. It stated, "Hey, if your 4runner is in that good of condition I will give you twice the price." I think to myself, "The texting has begun, fuck me."
     A few hours pass and I realize that my phone hasn't really been going off in a while. I get back on Craigslist and look up the ads again. But this time I can't find them. I look everywhere. They've been pulled from the website. I am all smiles at this point, hesitantly waiting for another ad to come up, but nothing does. I receive a few phone calls throughout the night, but by the next day it's back to normal, and my caller ID shows familiar numbers once again.
     I''m hanging out with Chris again, and tell him, "If I ever find out who did this, I'm gonna punch him right in the fucking face."

Part 2: The Craigslist Debacle

    It’s crazy to think that people would go to certain lengths just to fuck with somebody. This happened to me, and you better hope it doesn’t happen to you. This is a continuation on the story of what I call the Craigslist Debacle.

    My phone hasn’t stopped ringing for the last twenty minutes. I’ve answered to too many strangers wanting to buy my car, and this joke is getting on my nerves. Upon arriving at my house I silence Josh Turner, turn the key, and jump out of my car. I take one step in the door and my phone rings again, “Hello?”
    A woman’s voice that sounds like an excited kid on Christmas Eve speaks into the phone, “Yea, I was wondering about your 4-Runner…”
    I stop her before she can say anymore, “My car isn’t for sale. Someone is playing a prank on me.”     I feel like the Grinch, stealing whatever hopes this lady ever had about buying a sweet ride. Not only do I have to deal with these people calling me every minute, but now I have this lady on the phone and she’s not happy, “What do you mean? I can’t buy the car? Are you serious!? Wh…” Click, I don’t have the time to deal with this shit.
    I walk into the computer room and Chris is laughing uncontrollably, “You gotta see this man, here, come here.”
    Sure as hell, there it was. A picture of a car that looked just mine stood out on the page. 12-point font stood next to it describing the features of my limited 4-runner. And situated next to that line was four sentences stating, “Leaving town, must sell quick. Very cheap, and in good condition. Up late, work hours from 12am-8am, call between these times. Call Tom Bay at 555-9281.” The price of the car stood out amongst everything. It was in a huge font and bolded, “$2500.”
    I stood for a second, admiring this person’s bold step into my life. Obviously somebody went out of their way, and took their time, to piss me off. Well, it worked.
    I jump on my Hewlett-Packard and write an email to Craigslist. This joke has become harassment, and it needs to be taken down right now. After sending the email, I look back at Chris and he’s got this smirk on his face that reminds me of the times when he’s messed with me. One time in particular always comes to mind.
    Shortly after graduating from high school I was driving in one of my old cars. It was a 93’ Honda Accord and it was my baby. I really did love that car. So, one day I’m driving down the road and something smells horrendous. When I got home I checked the insides of my car and didn’t find anything. So, I decided to go inside for a second, grab some food, and come back when I’ve got something in my stomach. After I shut the door I noticed something sticking out of one of the hubcaps. I got down and examined what was left of a herring. After seeing this, I realized that this is where the smell was coming from. I yanked the hubcap off and there were three more half rotten hearings that look as if they’d been there awhile. After checking the other hubcaps there was a total of sixteen rotting herring corpses in all. I later found out that this was Chris playing a prank on me. The fish had been there for about three weeks, and everybody had a good laugh. Well, everybody except me. It took about a week for me to get over it. Anyway, so Chris is known for these types of things. So, I ask him again, but he still denies it.
    My phone is ringing again, and this time it comes with a little extra something on the side.