Tag Archives: humor

This week, on ‘Ghost Seekers!’

The green light on the recorder flicks on.

“Is there anyone here with us tonight” the man asks. He is sweating and probably looked even worse than normal in that nightvision camera they always use. The camera man swung around capturing the other two people with them. Another man and a woman looked on to the proceedings, occasionally casting their gaze to the ceilings as though ghosts would flock to the great arched heights like birds.

“Yep,” I say. I saw this show before. I’m surprised they haven’t faked anything so far this episode. Really is interesting to see how they film even if they have no idea what they’re doing.

“What’s your name?” the woman asks. She’s cute and must be a new addition to the show. Last time I had a chance to watch it was just the two guys, the fat one and the skinny one. Like Abbott and Costello meet the ghosts. Unless they already made that movie? Shit. Now this is going to bother me. You really do learn to take Google for granted.

“Tom,” I sigh. This is the third time this month I’ve answered that question.

“If you can, speak into the green light, it will let us hear you,” says the skinny guy.

“I know what a tape recorder is,” I say. They always give the dumbest instructions. It’s never like, ‘say the winning lottery numbers.’ Always, “what’s your name, are we alone here.” Why even ask that question. If someone is answering you clearly you’re not alone.

“Are you alone here?” The cute woman again. She seems very dedicated and in to the whole situation. I bet she wants to be an investigative reporter or something and this is her big break. Good for her.

“No,” I say.

Who’s here with you.

“Who’s here with you?” the fat guy asks.

Hah! Called it!

I look over, Jeff gives me a thumbs up and a big smile. Grim grinning ghost he is not.

“Jeff,” I say. I wish I could check the time but I didn’t wear a watch the day of the accident. Can’t beat myself up over it, hindsight after all. Jeff is just excited because there’s another team here. The last one he tugged on a guy’s sweater and brushed some poor teenage girl’s hair. The guy screamed, she fainted, and Jeff fell over. After that he couldn’t stand up for two days, he was so weak, but it’s all he will talk about anymore. Not like we get CNN or anything, so that’s the closest we get to current events. This just in, Jeff is clearly going to try again.

Everything is so rote now. They pull out the meter, I wave in front of it, they shit themselves when the green lights dance across the surface.

You know, maybe the show is fake and we’re the first to actually respond. I mean, we haven’t seen any other ghosts since the accident. Restoring some 14th century castle, you’d think there would be some creepy dead princes or something wandering around. But nope. Me and Jeff, brothers in arms since 2005.

What if we’re flukes?

“How did you die?”

“Stop asking such personal questions! Jesus that’s rude,” I say. Jeff shoots me a look.

“What, I didn’t ask her about how she plans on dying! ‘Oh, you and your asshole friend fell off some scaffolding, spoooooky.'”

“Are you a King? Or a Queen?” Jeff mumbles something into the recorder. Yes Jeff, haha, I get it, I’m the queen. Thanks, prick.

The skinny man stops the recorder and plays it back. Here we go, these guys have a camera crew, they seem legit, let’s hear those melodious pipes of mine.

‘Are you alone here?’ – static –

“It said ‘help me!’ I heard it!” says the fat guy.


The Bachelor Disaster: The Gods demand a sacrifice

As promised, the second part of Bachelor day! Much less scary than the first, but still entertaining.

However, I did have another creepy thing happen today. When coming back inside from taking Bailey out I heard the toilet cistern refilling from the guest bathroom. No one else is in the house. I am assuming and hoping it is a slow leak that caused a flush.


I was married in September of 2012. Earlier in the summer, my best man Graham  and other best friend Mike surprised me with an awesome idea for a bachelor party. The three of us have been outdoorsmen for a while. We grew up together in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, regularly go camping at Graham’s farm, and recently did a backpacking trip into a wilderness reserve in Indiana.

We have fun making our bodies hate us.

For my bachelor party they wanted to plan something special. They wouldn’t tell me what it was in advance, only that I needed to bring formal wear, camping equipment, video gaming stuff, among other things. The only things they told me not to worry about was any paintball clothing or target shooting gear. I spent the night at Graham’s apartment and they finally told me: put the formal wear in the car, and grab your camping gear. We’re hitting the river at 11am tomorrow.

Anyways, the idea was for us to go canoe camping along the Wisconsin River. Now, if you’ve never gone canoe camping, the gist is you get dropped off at a departure point by a rafting company, load up the canoes with as much beer as they can carry, and then make a little room for camping gear. You then canoe downriver and drink until you find a suitable sand bar in the river for camping. Finally, play drinking games, camp, and the next day canoe to the pick up point.

A group of about 11 guys went with, with myself, Graham, and Mike having the most experience on the water. We divided up 2 to a canoe, and divided up gear among the boats. For instance, Mike and Graham had the keg, so their equipment was distributed among other boats. The last guy took the kayak and carried what he could in the small craft.

My good friend Adam, who was going to be the photographer for my wedding, brought his dog Arwen. Arwen is a total sweetheart but we didn’t know how she would take to a canoe, so I volunteered to go with. After all, if someone should be dumped into the water it should be the bachelor in question right? I gave my gear to some of the others just in case.

So, we somehow jammed way too much beer and camping equipment into 10 canoes and a kayak, and set off. The water level on the Wisconsin River that year was super low. A foot at best from where we set off, and about 4 feet at its deepest. So all the other boats disappear around the bend in the river, and we get ready to set off with Arwen and… she jumps out. Again! Onwards to victory! Wait… where the hell did the dog go? Repeat this a few times and we found our answer to whether Arwen liked the boat. Out on the water she would shift her weight, slowing us down as Adam had to calm her, so I was sure we were going to be the only boat to tip.

Arwen, happy to be on dry land. Copyright Adam Arcus, 2014. http://arcusphotography.com/
Arwen, happy to be on dry land.
Copyright Adam Arcus, 2014. http://arcusphotography.com/

10 minutes. We had been in the boats 10 minutes and Adam and I are paddling like hell to catch the main group. Coming around the bend the first sign something is wrong is the beer cooler floating down the river next to us and lodging itself on a downed tree.

10 minutes.

I see my friends Matt and Lengkimly wading in chest high water trying to drag their upturned boat onto the shore. The other canoes pulled in to help, and one just sat there in the water and took pictures.

Remember I gave my gear away because I was worried about it tipping? I gave them my equipment.

My unprotected sleeping bag, tent, and clothes.

10 minutes.

While I quietly stewed, arms crossed and yelling at the others to help like a cranky Poseidon, Matt did the impossible and fought against the current and saved the cans of Stella, which made me a bit happier.

The Internet is changing the way we read. I’m screwed.

It’s becoming more and more apparent that the Internet may be changing the way we read. People are starting to just scan text for key words and very easily digestible information instead of taking the time to let content sink in. As a writer with a love of short form written horror, this is my worst nightmare. Horror needs build up! Tension! Actual consumption of atmospheric words and not just scanning for ‘blood’ or ‘incomprehensible!’ How can I compete with that? Well, I took a look around the Internet and figured I’d give it a shot. Fuck it.

Continue reading The Internet is changing the way we read. I’m screwed.

My Invasion of Germany


I was just shy of 17 years old when I received my first passport. It was the summer of 2004, the gap between my junior and senior years of high school. Packing for Germany, my biggest concern was how cool I’d look. I was and still am a humongous nerd. I was rocking only the best in khaki cargo pants, white gym shoes, a windbreaker more suitable for camping than wandering around beautiful historic cities, and a stable of ‘fun’ baseball caps that would put a real baseball player to shame. I was one fanny pack short of screaming ‘I’M A TOURIST AND MY PARENTS LET ME GO SOMEWHERE BY MYSELF, P.S. I’M AMERICAN!’ Instead, I only screamed ‘MUG ME! P.S. I’M AMERICAN!’

Continue reading My Invasion of Germany

Adventures in the waking mind

My brain just woke me up 10 minutes ago because of a revelation. Now, normally this is great because it can be inspiration for a story or remembering something I forgot that had been bothering me for the last few days.

This morning my brain goes “Dude, wake up.”

“Ugh, what? Its 5:45 am. We don’t even have plans until noon.”

“This is super important. Earth shattering even.”

“I’m listening…” I say, maybe it IS a new story thread or something to help with writer’s block on one of my long form projects. Shit, I probably had a Good Will Hunting moment and broken the code of the Voynich Manuscript or something.

“Peanuts,” my mind whispers. I imagine my brain as an 80’s businessman, coked out eyes wide open as he comes up with a last-ditch effort to save his crumbling business. He’s standing in front of a white board yelling at me.


“You know why they’re called that? It’s because when you crack them open… they have the nuts inside, like a pea pod has pea’s in it. It’s a Pea-Nut man.”

This realization hits me harder than if I had found conclusive evidence for life after death. Peanut butter is one of my very favorite things. I’ve been saying the word for years, and never thought about why they were called that. It’s like hearing a new-born baby laugh for the first time. My life has been changed forever.

“Wait, aren’t they legumes or whatever?” I still cannot tell you what the hell a legume is.

“Yeah, language is dumb,” replies my brain.

The human brain is an amazing thing, faster than the world’s most powerful supercomputer by about 100 times over. It has given us art,the ability to fly, and cured diseases. And mine chose that gift to wake me up at 5:45 in the fucking morning for a (still mind-blowing) thought that could have waited until like, 9am at the earliest.

My brain is an asshole.