“Knock it off, kiddo. Read some Ann of Green Gables.”

DEFINITELY  a trap.

I’m glad he was, though.

It sounds like Hilldale in The Haunting of Hill House.

There was one a few years ago with a headless ghost walking on prairie railroad tracks that had a kind of guiding light in front of it that has stuck with me ever since.

I kind of like a blend, like the story with the little girl with goat hooves in the urban apartments.

God, I get stuck cleaning out my work’s fridge on the regular, and the grossest moldiest shit is always somebody’s half eaten purchased lunch. Why bother taking it with you, people? Just chuck it! You’re not gonna eat it!

Ugh, no park eating for me, as I will be instantly surrounded by creepy guys making disgusting comments.

What kind of loser dealer hangs around the grade school anyway? What sixth grader has enough on them to regularly purchase nefarious substances? Anybody with a brain hangs at the high school, 7-11 parking lot or mall, where disposable income having youths are bored and looking to party.

Turned out Spot was addicted to the pettings. So sad!

Stole it from their folks, I’m guessing. And if they were all kids, they probably offered it around to look cool.

Svengoolie! 

A human one?

Aw, it’s even shaped like him! Poetry.

I know it’s labled “Face Eating Leopards” on the map, but...

Whoo hoo! Taking personal credit for Washington State-- I fucking LOVE 100 Grands and claim all of them for my personal consumption out of those bags of mini bars.

I know I’m old because I’m one thousand percent on the restaurant’s side here. Throw fries at me, teens. I promise you you will only do it once.

I’m gonna stick with my tried and true method of eating cheeseburgers and doughnuts. Ass the size of Cincinnati with no death by silicone.