Tough But Discerning Audience Over There At B3ta

This week's "Question of the Week" was interesting:

Smash Monkey asks: "what's the creepiest thing you've seen, heard or felt? What has sent shivers running up your spine and skidmarks running up your undercrackers? Tell us, we'll make it all better"

I really like B3ta, and contribute almost every week to their "Question of the Week", but I find it insanely-hard to win sufficient approval to be chosen for the stories on their "Best Answers" Web page. The trouble is mostly a matter of age and culture. The B3ta crowd consists of a lot of bored British and Anglophonic school kids and young people. They seem to favor outrageous stories of humiliation or outrage or sometimes just clever inside commentary on growing up in the UK. An American meteorologist in his fifties just doesn't get drunk enough, or arrested enough, or suffer enough, or have a sufficient appreciation for late-night crap British television to have his usually-tedious middle-aged stories make it to the "Best Answers" Web page.

This week, I first tried a light-hearted story on the theme of creepiness, from my days at the University of Arizona, which got some play, but only because others helped out:

Biogenic Natural Gas
A professor I know obtained some biogenic natural gas. Skeptical, I asked him how he knew it was biogenic. Apparently at the University Farm they have a small herd of cows whose digestive systems they are studying. They have placed rubber-sealed portholes in the sides of the cows that go directly into their gut. So, you open the rubber flaps on the cows' portholes, reach DEEP inside, and take whatever you want. It's like shopping for fruit, or something.
(Marc Valdez)

I've seen that on the telly
It was fascinatingly grotesque.

Edit: Letting kids have a grope around

www.youtube.com/watch?v=mE-GuRZT1G4
(sandettie light vessel automatic)

That
is about as fucked up a thing as I have ever seen.



Fuck.
(Larry Death)

Tombola cow
Or feed it numbered balls, make it run about a bit and then use it as a bingo machine
(sandettie light vessel automatic)

Great
for keeping your Ginsters warm till lunchtime though.
(Rsoles)

But as pleasant as this contribution was, it wasn't good enough to make the "Best Answers" Web page.

Thinking about the theme of creepiness, I realized that the Mexican narcovideo I watched last week was among the creepiest things I had ever seen. It's pretty darn strong. It starts out with the "guera loca" (the crazy blonde) decapitating a Zeta prisoner (with a bit of help once she got to the neck vertebrae). Then her friends systematically scalp the Zeta's face, and play a bit with his eyeballs. The question was, what would the B3ta crowd think? So, I posted a link just to check, but within half an hour, the rising tide of outrage persuaded me to delete the post. Apparently even for the bored British teenaged sensibility, there are limits to what they want to see, even if it answers the question sufficiently.

So, it was time to pull out one of my best stories, dating to 1995, when I lived in East Sacramento. On thinking it over, I think it actually occurred in late October rather than in the summer, like I state in the story. The freeway underpass is the 39th Street/Highway 50 underpass, and the ambush site is at 39th & T Streets.

Finally, I found release! They liked the story well enough to post on their "Best Answers" Web page:

Ninjas In The Dark
One of my creepiest experiences started out with a bad decision....

One evening, as was customary, I left my house to walk my dog, Sparky. Walking along, we came out onto a main thoroughfare. On the sidewalk across the street, passing by in the half-light of the street lamps, I saw six men dressed head-to-toe in black. They had a lethal nonchalance that I disapproved of. These men - jackals, really - seemed not only strange, but menacing too. I decided to follow these assassins from a distance, in order to convey the weight of my disapproval, and by extension, what I presumed to be the neighborhood's disapproval too, by my obdurate witnessing presence.

The ninjas' progress carried them through a well-lit freeway underpass. Sparky and I followed. On the other side of the underpass, the ninjas uncharacteristically scattered into the darkness. They started meandering aimlessly into the darkness for no apparent reason. Indeed, our progress on the walk carried us completely through the cloud of meandering ninjas, so now they were behind us, rather than in front.

One of the ninjas approached and asked for a cigarette. I had none to offer. Nevertheless, he didn't seem that menacing in person. The overall air of menace diminished, and my guard relaxed. Sparky and I pressed on. We came to a dark and desolate street corner, where the view was obscured by large trees....

Ambush! Suddenly ninjas approached from several different directions, handkerchiefs now obscuring their faces. One of the ninjas held at arm's length what appeared in the darkness to be a silver rectangle sporting a small dark circle. It took me several seconds to realize that I was looking at the business end of a pistol.

They seemed nervous; I was petrified. The ninjas demanded that I empty my pockets, but I had only keys; I left my money at home. Then they demanded that I remove my shoes. I did not understand the shoe demand, but I was no longer in a position to remain obdurate, so I complied. (Apparently nighttime pedestrians will sometimes place money in shoes; hence the demand.) Meanwhile, Sparky wagged his tail and attempted to make friends (some protection this canine offered).

Satisfied, the ninjas released the both of us. We walked away into the darkness, and then we started running (me in socks) on a circuitous, kilometer-long path that ended up back at the house (Sparky liked this part of the walk best). I was deeply-worried, because they now had my house key, and my car key, and they knew approximately where I lived. It would be only a matter of time before they located my house, and robbed me again, or stole my car, or perhaps showed me, by example, the power of a pistol.

Arriving home, I quickly opened the hood of the car and disabled it, by pulling fuses. I quickly slammed shut and locked the doors of the house (I had left the back door completely open on this summer's night). Then, I picked up the telephone and called the police.

While talking to the emergency operator, looking out through the windows at my car in the driveway, I saw something that made my blood freeze. Coalescing out of the darkness next to my car, a ninja appeared. The jackals had arrived!

I started shouting, and the ninja saw me through the window. He could see in the half-light that I was talking to someone on the telephone (probably calling the police). He vanished back into the shadows. In a few minutes, the police arrived....

The next day I placed locks on all the windows, and had my door and car locks redone. And I also recovered my shoes; abandoned on the street corner. For the next several nights, though, I was really messed up. I had a hard time sleeping, and once I awoke to what I thought was my doorbell. I called the police again, certain that the ninjas had returned, but I eventually realized that the doorbell was entirely in my sleeping imagination. My mind was fighting phantoms; but not entirely phantoms. Some fears are real.

The main legacy is I no longer follow strangers in order to register my disdain, no matter how they are dressed (unless they are dressed like nymphettes, or something).
(Marc Valdez)

needs more shuriken!
(zulu)

points have been scored
For relaying the dog's actions and feelings throughout the tale.

*clicks*
(jingo...)

Bloody hell mate
glad you weren't hurt or anything but it must have been terrifying. Scary stuff.
(resurrection_mary cannibal)