Whether I am using the name Thomas Churchwell or Tarquin Churchwell this morning, I have a scary story for you. Close the blinds and hang on to your coffee mugs.
I love Halloween. I like that children walk around acting as if they are ghouls and goblins, as if it is a joke. It isn't. If you're wondering why I am talking about Halloween in the middle of February, it's because I think about Halloween every day!
I told myself to be careful that night. I was about 12, short, fat and energetic. I was walking in a neighborhood near home, and it was late. I wanted to try it...to see the scary decorations. Before I left, I put on my Star Trek costume and Spock mask. I looked like I was ready for anything, but nothing could prepare me for...THE MONSTER.
I told myself to stay out of the alley. But I needed to pee. I heard a garbage can turn over, then I was on the ground, staring into the beady eyes of the monster, blood dripping from its gnarled fingers. I screamed. He bit me on my arm and ran away. Somebody rushed me to the hospital. I only got a flesh wound. I would live, unfortunately. At that moment, I didn't know that living was a fate worse than death!
I never talked about that night. I didn't tell my parents, my sisters or brother. Years later, before I ran out on them, I didn't tell my three children. I tried to forget. Last week, I picked up the phone. I suddenly needed to open up to someone, to unburden myself. So I dialed a number at random and told a stranger my story.
The following is a transcript of the phone conversation.
"I've had a lazy life, working for a little while but nothing in the past ten years. I used to date a lot of women, mostly topless dancers. In recent years, I've caused a lot of misery on the Internet. That part of my life was good. The biggest difficulty I had was my arm - where the monster had bitten me. The wound burned like hell sometimes - like a thousand needles being shoved into my skin. I started making mistakes on my blogs, getting my lies mixed up. I started hating more people. My body felt weird, like it was growing! I noticed hair sprouting all over my body. I had an insatiable urge to eat chicken hearts, even raw right from the meat department at the grocery store.
The worst was when there was a full moon at night. I would howl like a wolf. All I could think about was finding a topless woman, and devouring her on the spot. At first I tried devouring women on the Internet, but that stopped working for me. My body grew grotesque and I was popping out of my clothes. Full of blood-lust, I staggered down Beach Street, naked, my nostrils flaring, fangs ready, growling as my nose smelled the scent of a woman. She was standing outside CVS, holding a plastic bag, when I stood up on my hairy hind legs and raised my fingers, ready to attack. She screamed at seeing a monster on a city street, but as she looked me over, she started laughing hysterically."
"Your penis. It's so small!" she laughed.
"I could barely say, "Fuck you!" before I ran from her, the cold Queens air slapping me in the face. I raced up the stairs of the SUS building and ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. Disgraced and embarassed, I spent the night watching Star Trek and eating raw chicken hearts. I was a failure as a man-monster."
"Did you go to a doctor?"
"I went to my Medicaid doctor, Dr. McFreud. I told him that I used to have a smallish sized penis, but ever since I became a monster, it had shrunk."
"Very in-ter-est-ing, Thomas," said Dr. McFreud.
"I'm not Thomas anymore. Or, Tarquin, or TC, Dr. McFreud. I am The Monster."
"I understand. But your insurance still has you listed as Thomas. It's better that we stick with that."
"Yes, thank you. What about my penis?"
"Well, the tests show a tremendous surge of adrenaline in your system, and it is having an affect like steroids. It is changing your body in many ways, one of them being that it is shrinking your penis."
"How can I be a happy monster with such a small cock?"
"I'm sure there are monsters with all sorts of penises. Six per cent of the population is sociopathic, Thomas. Your small penis shouldn't really affect your performance on your blogs, when you go searching for prey."
"Well, it's affecting my performance OFF the blogs. I've always hated women but now that I want to ravage one, I can't!"
"I see what you mean. Here you are, looking scary and dangerous from the waist up, but one little thing below the waist is making victims in the street laugh at you."
The stranger on the phone asked, "Did the doctor give you anything?"
"He gave me some pills, but they didn't help. I just got headaches. I tried herbs, Chinese root, voodoo and dealt my Tarot cards every night - nothing worked. Finally I enrolled in a 12-step program for dysfunctional monsters. There was a witch who couldn't get off her broom, a vampire without teeth, and a ghost who was too scared to scare anyone. Losers."
"Did the group help?"
"No, but I became chummy with the witch, Laureanana, and we hit it off. Man, was she wild! One day when she saw me looking at my small penis, she opened up an ancient book and started chanting:
Fooga Fama Figga
Make his penis bigger
As she finished the chant, the room started to shake. I was whirling like a top and landed on the floor. I stood up and looked down...Laureanana had succeeded! My cock was three times as big! I grabbed her, threw her on a table and screwed her for almost two minutes!"
"That's great."
"But the story isn't over. The true horror had not even begun!"
"Oh, no!"
"Even though Laureanana let me move in with her, and also let me use her phone 24/7, and I was by now a successful monster with a giant penis, I found it hard to commit to just one woman."
"I hear ya."
"After coming home from a long night ravaging topless women, I was not in the mood to do the dishes, or talk about "her day." I told her that if she got another yeast infection from her broom, she should stop being a witch and stay home and cook and clean for me. She didn't talk to me for a week."
"Relationships can be tough."
"One weekend, Laureanana came home from a witches convention early and caught me in bed, fucking a friend of hers. She went crazy, called me every name in the book. I tried to tell her it was her fault. After all, she was the one who gave me my new penis. Wasn't I supposed to share it with the world?"
"Monsters feel that way, sure."
"She ran to her book of spells, and chanted:
Boodle, yoodle, woodle
Turn him into a noodle
And the damn harpy turned me into a noodle. That's what I am right now. Can you imagine how difficult it is to use my phone and computer?"
"So, you're not a monster anymore?"
"I'm still a monster. I LOVE being a monster! But my body is a noodle!"
"I'm sorry."
"And the scariest thing is, she did this just to punish me for my transgression."
"Cruel."
"Women who are wronged are the cruelest."
"That was the SADDEST story I have ever heard."
I love Halloween. I like that children walk around acting as if they are ghouls and goblins, as if it is a joke. It isn't. If you're wondering why I am talking about Halloween in the middle of February, it's because I think about Halloween every day!
I told myself to be careful that night. I was about 12, short, fat and energetic. I was walking in a neighborhood near home, and it was late. I wanted to try it...to see the scary decorations. Before I left, I put on my Star Trek costume and Spock mask. I looked like I was ready for anything, but nothing could prepare me for...THE MONSTER.
I told myself to stay out of the alley. But I needed to pee. I heard a garbage can turn over, then I was on the ground, staring into the beady eyes of the monster, blood dripping from its gnarled fingers. I screamed. He bit me on my arm and ran away. Somebody rushed me to the hospital. I only got a flesh wound. I would live, unfortunately. At that moment, I didn't know that living was a fate worse than death!
I never talked about that night. I didn't tell my parents, my sisters or brother. Years later, before I ran out on them, I didn't tell my three children. I tried to forget. Last week, I picked up the phone. I suddenly needed to open up to someone, to unburden myself. So I dialed a number at random and told a stranger my story.
The following is a transcript of the phone conversation.
"I've had a lazy life, working for a little while but nothing in the past ten years. I used to date a lot of women, mostly topless dancers. In recent years, I've caused a lot of misery on the Internet. That part of my life was good. The biggest difficulty I had was my arm - where the monster had bitten me. The wound burned like hell sometimes - like a thousand needles being shoved into my skin. I started making mistakes on my blogs, getting my lies mixed up. I started hating more people. My body felt weird, like it was growing! I noticed hair sprouting all over my body. I had an insatiable urge to eat chicken hearts, even raw right from the meat department at the grocery store.
The worst was when there was a full moon at night. I would howl like a wolf. All I could think about was finding a topless woman, and devouring her on the spot. At first I tried devouring women on the Internet, but that stopped working for me. My body grew grotesque and I was popping out of my clothes. Full of blood-lust, I staggered down Beach Street, naked, my nostrils flaring, fangs ready, growling as my nose smelled the scent of a woman. She was standing outside CVS, holding a plastic bag, when I stood up on my hairy hind legs and raised my fingers, ready to attack. She screamed at seeing a monster on a city street, but as she looked me over, she started laughing hysterically."
"Your penis. It's so small!" she laughed.
"I could barely say, "Fuck you!" before I ran from her, the cold Queens air slapping me in the face. I raced up the stairs of the SUS building and ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. Disgraced and embarassed, I spent the night watching Star Trek and eating raw chicken hearts. I was a failure as a man-monster."
"Did you go to a doctor?"
"I went to my Medicaid doctor, Dr. McFreud. I told him that I used to have a smallish sized penis, but ever since I became a monster, it had shrunk."
"Very in-ter-est-ing, Thomas," said Dr. McFreud.
"I'm not Thomas anymore. Or, Tarquin, or TC, Dr. McFreud. I am The Monster."
"I understand. But your insurance still has you listed as Thomas. It's better that we stick with that."
"Yes, thank you. What about my penis?"
"Well, the tests show a tremendous surge of adrenaline in your system, and it is having an affect like steroids. It is changing your body in many ways, one of them being that it is shrinking your penis."
"How can I be a happy monster with such a small cock?"
"I'm sure there are monsters with all sorts of penises. Six per cent of the population is sociopathic, Thomas. Your small penis shouldn't really affect your performance on your blogs, when you go searching for prey."
"Well, it's affecting my performance OFF the blogs. I've always hated women but now that I want to ravage one, I can't!"
"I see what you mean. Here you are, looking scary and dangerous from the waist up, but one little thing below the waist is making victims in the street laugh at you."
The stranger on the phone asked, "Did the doctor give you anything?"
"He gave me some pills, but they didn't help. I just got headaches. I tried herbs, Chinese root, voodoo and dealt my Tarot cards every night - nothing worked. Finally I enrolled in a 12-step program for dysfunctional monsters. There was a witch who couldn't get off her broom, a vampire without teeth, and a ghost who was too scared to scare anyone. Losers."
"Did the group help?"
"No, but I became chummy with the witch, Laureanana, and we hit it off. Man, was she wild! One day when she saw me looking at my small penis, she opened up an ancient book and started chanting:
Fooga Fama Figga
Make his penis bigger
As she finished the chant, the room started to shake. I was whirling like a top and landed on the floor. I stood up and looked down...Laureanana had succeeded! My cock was three times as big! I grabbed her, threw her on a table and screwed her for almost two minutes!"
"That's great."
"But the story isn't over. The true horror had not even begun!"
"Oh, no!"
"Even though Laureanana let me move in with her, and also let me use her phone 24/7, and I was by now a successful monster with a giant penis, I found it hard to commit to just one woman."
"I hear ya."
"After coming home from a long night ravaging topless women, I was not in the mood to do the dishes, or talk about "her day." I told her that if she got another yeast infection from her broom, she should stop being a witch and stay home and cook and clean for me. She didn't talk to me for a week."
"Relationships can be tough."
"One weekend, Laureanana came home from a witches convention early and caught me in bed, fucking a friend of hers. She went crazy, called me every name in the book. I tried to tell her it was her fault. After all, she was the one who gave me my new penis. Wasn't I supposed to share it with the world?"
"Monsters feel that way, sure."
"She ran to her book of spells, and chanted:
Boodle, yoodle, woodle
Turn him into a noodle
And the damn harpy turned me into a noodle. That's what I am right now. Can you imagine how difficult it is to use my phone and computer?"
"So, you're not a monster anymore?"
"I'm still a monster. I LOVE being a monster! But my body is a noodle!"
"I'm sorry."
"And the scariest thing is, she did this just to punish me for my transgression."
"Cruel."
"Women who are wronged are the cruelest."
"That was the SADDEST story I have ever heard."
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