10 Two-Sentence Horror Stories for Your Reading Pleasure ...

My friend Luke told me about this Reddit thread today at work about two sentence horror stories where people were trying to come up with good or interesting horror stories in only two sentences. He read some of them to me and I thought they were pretty good. Intrigued and bored at work I figured I’d try my hand at some two sentence horror stories … so basically Luke made the huge mistake of telling me about that thread. You can blame him for what follows below …  

I

When I awoke the doctor said, “I’m sorry Jon, but you are now a vegetable.” When the nurse held up a mirror so I could see, to my bemused horror there was a cucumber staring back at me.

II

It was a fun evening of telling ghost stories around the campfire. That is, until all of a sudden, we realized none of us had made the fire.

III

I couldn’t stand to see her writhing there in that much agony and pain. So, I put on a blindfold.

IV

I was running behind to catch the train. I just missed it, but it didn’t miss me.

V

My tire got a flat. I was stranded in Mississippi.

VI

I remember seeing my mom and dad making love when I was eight years old. But, why did I rewind the tape and watch it again?

VII

I’ll never forget Merv’s last words on Earth. “Damn, Jim, I didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

VIII

“I just don’t get why this is so scary?” One centipede said to the other centipede while watching “Human Centipede.”

IX

She had legs that went on for days and an ass I thought I’d really like to get to know. Then she turned around.

X

As I was being beamed aboard the ship I only had one thought in my mind. I’m about to be anally probed, but I left my cherry scented lube behind.

The Royals Had a Baby! How Disney Is At Least Partially to Blame for America's British Royals Fascination ...

The Royals had a baby! The Royals had a baby! I can’t contain my excitement. The Royals had a baby!

That was roughly the sentiment of many today (mostly women) when they heard the news, and for some reason it’s all American cable news felt like covering today (July 22), that Kate Middleton, ahem excuse me, Catherine Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge gave birth to an, as of yet unnamed, eight pound, six ounce baby boy.

It’s always been a mystery to me why American media and American citizens (again mostly the women folk) give a damn about the British Royal family. Many of these people care more about what’s going on with the British Royal family than they do with the family of the President of the United States. I guarantee these people will know the name of Prince William and Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge’s son, whenever it’s announced. However, most of those same people probably couldn’t tell you the names of President Barack Obama’s two daughters … their names are Sasha and Malia, by the way.

The coverage of Prince William and Kate Middleton’s relationship, then wedding, then married life, then pregnancy and now birth of their baby has been somewhat infuriating to me; mostly because it’s not news and partially because the American infatuation with them makes absolutely little-to-no-sense. That is at least to me.

However, I think I have a sound theory as to why there is such an infatuation. It’s a theory that frankly runs the risk of sounding sexist, but I’m willing to sound slightly sexist for the sake of this piece. The hubbub surrounding the British Royals, any new relationship and wedding among them and the birth of the Royal Baby and the reason why all of this seems to be a fad among only women is more than likely to do with fairytales and Disney princesses.

What do many little girls want to be when they grow up?

They want to be Cinderella or Belle or Ariel or Snow White.

Naturally they grow up and these dreams they had as young girls are unattainable. But, there are a very select few in this world who do have the opportunity and honor to become princesses, like Kate Middleton did.

And, because these little girls who grow up to be women wanted everything that Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge has they become interested – oftentimes a little too much so – with her story, her life, her marriage, the birth of her baby and even (in the case of Princess Diana) her death. These women who pay so much attention to everything Princess Kate are doing so in a mixture of admiration and jealousy, because it’s the closest thing to being Cinderella that they have and ever will. It’s really not much different than the little boys who want to grow up to be Peyton Manning, LeBron James or in my case Chipper Jones and end up with a sometimes unhealthy admiration of athletes. Or the way that other little boys worship Spider-Man, Batman and Superman when they’re young and grow up to be men who can’t part with their superhero fantasies.

Does this make it wrong or right to be this excited over a couple having a baby all the way across the Atlantic Ocean? I really don’t know, that’s for each individual to decide for themselves, I suppose.  

As for the media’s incessant coverage of the Royal Baby, it’s really no surprise. Media is going to do – wrong or right – whatever brings home the highest television ratings, sells the most magazine issues or garners the most website hits. As a journalism nerd this is the part of it all that steams me the most, because I know media outlets are ignoring much more important news stories than whether or not it’s a boy or a girl, but I also know media is a business and this will occasionally lead to them whoring themselves out for stories that they know will have people paying attention. And, what’s going to get thousands of housewives and stay-at-home-mom’s attention on a Monday afternoon than coverage of Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge bringing a future prince into this world? Absolutely nothing. Because that’s the life they dreamed of when they were little girls and it’s the life they still long for now after finding out that real life is far from a Disney fairytale.     

Why I Wore My Hoodie Today ...

The high today in Central Arkansas was 89 degrees, but I wore my large, black hoodie to work anyway. I must’ve been asked 10 or more times, “Are you cold?” – but “nope” was all I had to say. I didn’t wear the hoodie as a fashion statement. No, I wore it more as a social (or political if you prefer) statement. I wore it because of Trayvon Martin’s wrongful death not resulting in justice. And, I wore it in protest of George Zimmerman’s acquittal for walking free in his blatant role in Martin’s wrongful death.

I’m not sure anybody got the protest; I only explained it to a couple of people who I knew would truly understand. The biggest reason for not owning up to the silent, peaceful protest was that I didn’t believe babbling about it was appropriate to the cause, after all, I wasn’t doing this for my own good – I was doing it to prove a point, even if some (maybe most) people didn’t “get it.” But, because of that – because it might not have had the impact I hoped it might - here’s this blog post.  

We are not allowed to wear hoodies at my workplace, because apparently they are considered “unprofessional” even though it’s merely just a jacket meant to keep one warm. We are allowed to wear jackets of other types, but not hoodies. Other jackets are apparently professional, but hoodies are not. What they mean to say by this rule is that they think hoodies are thuggish. To them wearing a hoodie carries a negative connotation. They are profiling based on clothing. Hell, hoodies are just plain comfortable. That’s why I wear them. I’m not sure if this was a new rule or one that I just was never made aware of until later this winter, but I always wore my hoodie to and at work without being bothered about it. The day my boss told me I could no longer wear my hoodie at work was one of the few times I’ve ever let my irritation show through at work. The irritation wasn’t toward my boss – he was doing what his boss told him to do – my irritation was because I knew why this rule was instituted. It was instituted for the same reason Trayvon Martin was stalked by George Zimmerman, which later resulted in his tragic death. It was instituted because of its negative connotation or the stereotype it has.

I, of course, didn’t know Trayvon Martin as almost none of us who’ve been caught up in the George Zimmerman trial did, so I can’t say whether or not Martin considered himself to be a “thug.” I won’t subject a guess as to whether or not he was. Zimmerman supporters who say he was a “thug” don’t really know either; they’re just saying it based on those stereotypes and their own racial insecurities and bigotries. But, here’s the thing that so many people fail to realize, mostly because of their ignorance, whether or not Trayvon Martin was a “thug” should not have had anything to do with what Zimmerman did or the outcome of his trial. Martin’s “thugness” or “non-thugness” was irrelevant.

He may have worn his hoodie that night because of fashion purposes. Or maybe he wore his hoodie that night for the same reason I wear my hoodie, because he was simply cold. His hoodie was a key part in why Zimmerman followed him. As a result his hoodie played a large part in his death. But, Martin shouldn’t have been profiled for his hoodie, for the same reason that nobody should ever think certain things of me for wearing mine. It’s just a piece of clothing for God’s sake.

I feel that Martin was killed in at least partial malice and that Zimmerman should’ve been held accountable for his death. I feel that a great injustice was done in Zimmerman being set free. For that reason I chose to wear my hoodie to work today, despite it being summer, despite it being hot. Even though I work inside, it was still an uncomfortable protest, but I felt it was an appropriate and important protest. If people didn’t get it or if they still don’t get it after reading this so be it, I felt it was the right thing to do for Trayvon Martin and a great injustice.        

Goddamn It I'm Angry

Goddamn it I’m angry. I’m angry a lot these days. I’m angry because somewhere along the way people got their wrongs and rights upside down. Somewhere along the way a dead 17-year old black kid became a bad guy and a wannabe cop instigator armed with a firearm and a bullshit law became a hero; became a symbol. A symbol for everything that still remains wrong with this country. A symbol for things that will always be wrong in this country.

Goddamn it I’m angry. I just want to go outside and scream at the top of my lungs. Let the anger out in ways that would probably have me doing more time than if I stalked and murdered a black kid. This is more than just a bogus verdict and a guilty man set free. And that’s truly what hurts the most. This is finding out people who you know, you respect are fine with a kid being hunted and slain because he chose to fight back. How dare a nigger attempt to fight back? You thought it, didn’t you? Fuck you and your outdated ideals. Outdated but updated it seems.

Goddamn it I’m angry. If it was a white kid with Skittles and a black man with a gun you would’ve been screaming hate crime. You would’ve been screaming lynch the fucker. Don’t scoff damn it, you know you would. Shit, the only time you ever did like a Mexican, sorry wetback, I forgot that’s what you called them, was when he put a gangsta boogie in the ground. Now you want him to receive a fucking medal. Just yesterday you didn’t want him in your country. Today you act like he did the world a service. Go on and smile Nathan Bedford Forrest.             

Goddamn it I’m angry. Because there are wrongs and rights and those are absolute. They don’t waiver. They don’t change. But you ignore them. You defy them. You mangle them without shame. You’re on the wrong side, and you don’t give a shit. Someday you will. Someday you will. And I can’t fucking wait for it.

Because Goddamn it I’m angry.