Unfamiliar buildings, skunk and unseen terrors of the night.
This isn't one of my proudest moments i have to admit, although from time to time i do wonder what was going through my mind.

Travel back in time a few years and I find myself as the assistant manager of a pub in Rainford. This was a decent new job, social, well paid but long hours although I managed to secure full access and rent free digs in the flat above the pub, which had far too many rooms for my meagre posessions. I basically occupied two rooms of the flat and left the other three rooms empty (one or two half decorated), which was always a bit disconcerting and sometimes creepy.

So needless to say, i enjoyed my space to a degree, although i never seemed to get much sleep (presumably because there was 24 hour access to alcohol in the pub below me) and the fact that it was quite an old building..

Anyhoo, for a few weeks i reaped the pleasures of such a position, very often not seeing my boss for days as he spent most of the time playing golf or driving around in his BMW, so this left me practically in charge of the pub. Now in Rainford when a customer tells you to 'get yourself a drink', they don't mean take fifty pence, they mean get a drink. And for a while i would accept their kindly offer, but after a while i realised that it simply was not possible to manage a business whilst bladdered, so i would usually just leave my pre-paid drink in the keg, slowly tallying them up.

At one point i seem to remember having about thirty or so drinks in the keg and wondering how/when i would drink them all. Now at that point in my life, i had recently discovered the joys of cannabis but didn't have a clue as to how to roll a joint. But luckily a customer who frequencted said public house was also a smoker and after a little debate, I realised that in exchange for a pint of two, he would bring me a few ready made joints for me to smoke after hours.
So i would trade my free beer for free weed. Perfect.

Perfect... that is until he failed to tell me about the mind-blowing skunk he had loaded into one particular bad boy. I went to my room after locking up the old pub, ensuring all the rooms were empty and locked the safe before nipping up to my bedroom for a 'chill'.

I lit it up, lay down on my bed and played a few of my favourite songs on the stereo, taking epic drags of this new-fangled 'skunk' joint and unwinding, letting my muscles relax after a rather tough day. But i'd never smoked skunk before, i'd usually smoked weak stuff and usually shared a join with friends.

But not tonight baby, tonight was the night i went insanely paranoid.
A few minutes later, i felt anxious... My heart was racing... something was wrong. Something didn't feel right.
I was always paranoid about burglars, and now strange sounds out in the hallway, a kind of scratching sound did little to reassure me.

'Oh shit!', thought I. I'm being burgled... I tip toed across my room and put my ear to the door. Yes, definately... It certainly wasn't my over active imagination, nor the drugs. There was definately something outside my room... something nasty, ominous and unseen.

What to do? Ring the police... No. The room smelled of skunk. So i did what any man would do, i grabbed a miniature sized cricket bat that i kept under my bed and slowly opened my bedroom door ready to strike the invader, but all i was confronted with was oppressive darkness.

Phew... it WAS just my imagination. I kicked myself for being a fool and went back to my room and sat down and had another epic drag of the skunk joint (as no doubt it would calm my jangled nerves). But no sooner had sat down and relaxed, there it was again... A loud scratching/rustling sound, somewhere outside my door.
What the fuck was it?
It didn't really sound human. My heart was now pumping against my rib cage, there was something evil playing with my mind. This wasn't right. My meagre cricket back might be good for hitting burglars but it now felt useless in my hands.

I listened closely, it was like a rustling sound... Maybe some form of giant bird. What the fuck was a giant bird doing in my home?
I was at this point having a paranoid break down. I paced my room, unable to control the cold panic that fluttered my weakening heart.

Ok... i formed a plan. I would either:

A) jump out of my window

B) Run out of my room, armed with the crap cricket bat

C) Be found curled up in the corner of the room, arm outstretched in a grotesque maddened state.

I went for B.

So, i tip toed to my door, sprang it open and ran into the dark corridor (possibly yelling something) and tripped over something soft and dark that made a horrific crackling sound. Aaaaargh.... I scrambled to my feet, i'd lost my weapon, i bounced blindly off the wall, stumbling to the light switch that lay six feet away on the far wall... Oh god, i could still hear it shuffling behind me. I was doomed.... My fingers scraped the wall, feeling for the plastic texture of the light switch, terror creeping behind me....

Yes ladies and gentlemen, that was the night i had been terrified of a bin bag containing the scrapings of wall paper that was gently rustling in the breeze from an open window somewhere in the flat.

Fuck.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Mon 27 Jul 2009, 16:52, Reply)