Got chased through a park by a bunch of Geordies in a car
Midnight, on a heavy dose of shrooms, me and my flatmate Mark start walking through Leize's park in Newcastle. [yes, we were southern shandy students]. Our mates were playing on the death slide beyond the lake. On the other side of the lake we see a bunch of lads drinking off the back of a car. Suddenly they all jump in, the headlights go up and they come round the lake towards us. Fair enough, that's where the exit road is. Nothing to worry about. Shrooms gurgle in my stomach but we're fine. fine. Oh no, the car's left the road and is coming through the trees. Not fine. It's student shrooming smashing time and we're on the menu. I leg it back to the halls, slam the door shut and spend the rest of the night thinking there was a riot outside plus the whole of Newcastle constabulary. Me sweating in a white vest clutching a baseball bat a la die hard. Six hours i dare to come out the room - osric tentacles to the rescue.
(Coastal, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:46, Reply)

Never mess with people on a porn forum.
A few years ago I went through a phase of watching internet porn, and my favourite site was "Free6". One day out or sheer boredom I went on the site forum, it was the same format as the B3ta main board and people were posting porn images and generally discussing porn in quite a sedate manner.

Now here's the thing, I noticed all the log-in names were along the lines of "BigGuy32", "PornKing69", i.e. all blokes. I had just seen that film "Road Kill" where 2 brothers pretend to be a sexy woman called "Candy Cane" and wind up an irate trucker.

So monkey-see-monkey-do, I signed in as "Candy". I typed "Hi boys, i'm a bit new to porn and a bit nervous about the whole thing, but I like what I see". Straight away I was getting messages but they were from the German punters..."Fichst du Candy?", "Sprechen sie Deutsch?"...etc. Bollocks said I, and went to find my old German dictionary to aid my wind-up antics.

I was only gone a few minutes, but when I got back to the computer what I saw made me stumble backwards...the forum had gone mad, there were pages and pages of:-

HI CANDY!
Yo Candy!
DO you fuck?
Send photos
Do you suck dick?
SAY SOMETHING!

and it went on like this and the board was moving so fast there wasnt time to read what people were saying, and then it turned nasty...

SAY SOMETHING!
SPEAK TO US!!!
COCK TEASING BITCH, GONNA FUCK YOU
SUCK MY COCK BITCH
I WANA SEE YOUR CUNT

People were posting images of their cocks, much of what was said was in German but I knew enough to tell it had got nasty. I quickly disconnected and turned my computer off. As I sat there I realised my heart rate was through the roof and I was quite shaken, I had tapped into something very dark and sinister and to this day I have avoided internet porn.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:45, Reply)

Scared ... should have been.
I have a tendency to get scared AFTER something has happened, which is not a good survival mechanism.
Many years ago when I lived alone and had just bought my first house in a dodgy part of Sheffield (I didn't know that at the time, of course) I was woken in the middle of the night by someone hammering on the back door shouting 'Help! Police! and such. In my naivity I opened the door and in walked this large 20-something man, shirtless & covered in tats. He started ranting on about how his girlfriend had thrown him out and I had to give him a knife so he could cut off his ear which would stop her from killing him, and more such. I kept him talking and managed eventually to walk him through the house and out of the front door, which I closed behind him. Next morning, when I had time to think about it, I was scared!

The next week my parents came to visit so I was sleeping in the back room only to be woken by the sound of someone trying to batter in the back door with a rock.
I got downstairs just in time to see a hand appear through the new hole in the door. I grabbed it with both hands and dug in all my fingernails as hard as I could. He got away of course, but I know which of us was scared that night! I waited up all night hoping he'd come back so I could kill him.

Postscript - the attitude of the local police - it was my fault for living there! Nice.
(misspiggy In danger of having to get a job, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:43, Reply)

Toilet-time fears...
As a kiddy I was terrified of going to the crapper by myself, for two reasons.

1) As a toddler I was sure I saw a ghost when I went to the loo at my dear old Nana's.

2) As a Primary-school-lad I read a book in which there was a monster called 'the glumper' which had barbed tentacles and lived in the sea. Somehow this was translated in my mind to the loo. I was sure glumper would extend a tentacle up the U-bend and drag me, arse first into the bowels of the sewerage system.

I can, I am pleased to report, generally go to the Bog by myself, nowadays.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:38, Reply)

Scared of a fillum like a big softee wuss
Last time I was proper scared, was when "Jurassic Park" came out. I went to a posh cinema with a big screen and loud sound system. I was OK right up until the point where the T-Rex roars at the car full of petrified kids. I almost soiled myself right there, but worse was to come. It gave me terrible nightmares and I had real trouble sleeping for weeks. Was I a fwightened wittle 9 year old? No, I was 30 years of age. oh the shame.

length? Like a hamster, but I can finish in under a minute
(urgle-splurgle molesting small goats since, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:26, Reply)

Ferry scary
This was a couple of months ago, I had just spent three days driving across the windiest roads in Indonesia to get to Kelimutu at the end of Flores. Afterwards my friends were in a hurry to get to Australia so they got the plane back to Bali.
For the first time on my travels I was on my own. I was in no hurry and my budget was low so I wasn't getting the plane but there was no way in hell I was doing the three day drive, floowed by another four or five day drive just to get back to bali. Then I saw a sign for a ferry office, I investgigated, the price was reasonable, accomodaton was in dorms but even third class looked pretty decent. That would be ideal a nice little two day cruise back to civilistion.
I spent a few days in a town called Ende dodging dead goats on the beach then on Saturday I get up at six in the morning, pack my gear and head to the terminal. The bemo I chartered didn't show up on time so I grab another. I get very impatient as he stops every ten feet to hawk for passengers. We arrive at the terminal and the place is empty apart from a few hawkers so I ask about to make sure it's the right place. According to the people at the office the boat is due at eight, so I wait.

At about eight Max shows up, he's the German guy I met while buying my ticket. We ask about word is the boat will arrive at nine so we wait.

Max has a very abrupt bargaining style, the lady says five, he throws her three and gets stuck into the food he's just bought. I try to get some kip and fail. Word is the boat will arrive at eleven, so we wait.

Some kids come over to say 'hello miss'. I explain the difference between miss and mister, they seem to get it. I try to talk with them using THE BOOK and max' s hilariously inaccurate dictionary but that doesn't work too well so I teach them how to play snap which works a little better but it degenerates into a fight anyway. Word is the boat will arrive at one so we wait.

A jeep turns up with a dozen cops and they start showing a photo about, remembering the half ounce of weed in my pocket and the "DEATH TO DRUG TRAFFICKERS" stamped in my passport I panic a little, but then I figure if they were looking for me they wouldn't need to show a photo in these parts. Then I see a cop in a black raincoat making a pitiful attempt at going undercover so I stash the weed just in case. After a bit the cops drive off so I retrieve the gear. Word is the boat will arrive at four so we wait.

By now the kids are getting a bit tiresome, I'm knackered, it' fucking hot, frying eggs on the pavement hot. I try to get some kip and the kids keep staring. Word is the boat will arrive at six so we wait.

The sun's going down a bit and there's a few clouds so it's safe to move out of the shade, me and Max elect to move to the end of the pier for a change of scenery and to get away from the kids. We sit at the end of the pier and then a couple of cops walk up blowing their whistles, I've been here ten hours, I'm strung out and these guys are making me nervous so I did a bad thing and ditched the weed. I didn't want to but it relaxed me more than smoking it would have. When I get back from stashing the hash Max tells me we can get on a boat. I don't see a ferry but I follow max through the crowd to the steps down the pier. As soon as I get onto the steps I feel this hand on my shoulder. I turn and find the hand is attached to a cop.

'uhhh' I say.

the cops asks what's my name and where I'm from, I tell him I'm Jeff from Holland (both lies), he says that's great and helps me onto this little wooden launch, fifteen foot long and four wide. I realise this thing has near twenty people on board, I sit my ass down on a sack of rice.
There are more people clamoring to get onto this floating piece of crap and somebody pushes us away from the pier before we be sunk by excess humans. Scanning about I see twenty, thirty other similar boats, loaded with people clutching suitcases or cardboard boxes tied with string and paddling between them in little canoes are the hawkers trying to sell them mutliflavoured monosodium glutamate. In front of me is a dark skinned meatloaf lookalike with no eyebrows and behind me is big Ali who insists I take his picture, I get the feeling he could break me into toothpicks so I take his picture.
Then this guy in an arsenal shirt moves my foot so he can lift up a couple of planks, then he starts bailing out the boat. Well thank fuck somebody remembered to do that. Then he started getting wired into the motor and it coughs into life, phut phut, like your grandmas tractor that smokes eighty Bensons a day. We go around in wheezing circles and then somebody tells us we need to pay 5000 bongos for speed but A they've already taken part of our tickets so they must be getting some kind of kickback from the ferry company, and B we didn't see any of the locals handing out cash, we try to explain this but due to the language barrier we eventually settle for 'nah mate'. And then joy of fucking joys, at Ten to fucking Six, an actual ship appears on the horizon.

I begin to wonder how we're supposed to get from the small boat to the big boat. It's starting to get dark by the time it drops anchor and we power towards it, well I say power, I actually mean we drag our sorry wooden diesel fuelled ass across the water like a dying goat wearing a lead corset.
Despite that we're the first boat to arrive under the steps that have been lowered from the side of the ferry, a bunch of people scramble over and up the steps. Me, I'm waiting for the boat to stop rocking a bit due to the seriously heavy load of a pack strapped to my back, just when I'm thinking now's the time to go, I move to the front, grab onto the rope at the side of the steps and then an empty boat rams in and shoves us out of the way and people start climbing off the ferry onto the empty boat. Then a third fucking boat comes along and people start climbing off that, onto the second boat and onto the fucking ferry. Before I know it there's half a dozen boats around us, people scrambling this way and that trying to get somewhere they ain't. I'm kneeling there (standing had become too risky) waiting for them to calm the fuck down and let me on the boat, I'm staring up at what seems like a hundred feet of rusty steel wall, people swarming all around me and I know I'm going to die, I know that if I stand up the boat will tip just enough to send me over the edge, my vision goes dark and I see myself sinking into the blackness at the bottom of the bay, struggling to remove my backpack and the last of my breath escaping from me as I become a corpse. I see all this happening. I've never really feared for my life until now, and now I'm fucking scared

Suddenly I'm back in the real world when this old geezer gives me a shove and points towards the steps I think fuckit and jump on to the formerly empty boat and flatten this Chinese lady. I apologise jsut enough to ensure she's not dead and grab the rope and haul myself onto the bottom step just as the ship tips to the side and the steps lift about five or six feet above the boat. I shove myself past a load of people trying to get down the steps, I shove past all the people waiting in the lobby with bicycles and chickens and shove my way to the front of the boat so I can get some breathing space.

I was alive at least, what happened on the boat was a whole other story but in summary; I spent two days sleeping on a couple of planks in a cockroach infested metal box with screaming babies eating overpriced stodgy boiled rice. I couldn't go to the bathroom as merely going in was enough to make me vomit, I was introduced to dead families and accused of being australian and the only thing that kept me from going completley bonkers was my bottle of arak which was about 70% proof, god bless than nameless Indonesian who let us buy from his illegal still when we turned up at his door one dark night.


Length? waiting twelve hours for a fuckign boat is just too long. In lubunbajo they started rioting after six hours waiting on a ferry, but I got to watch that from the safety of a restaurant up a hill
( VampireMonkeyOnSpeed a super sexy sexual sex terrorist sex, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:22, Reply)

Yesterday
I am now the proud owner of a daughter.

She came yesterday (22nd Feb) @ 16:55 after a 20 hour induced labour followed by emergency cesarian section.

After 36 hours with only 2 hours sleep(on the deliver room floor!) your mind plays mad tricks.

Very scary but all turned out okay :)

She's a little beauty ahem*

I was hoping to post this in the ripped QOTW, I had a joke about it and everything.


Peace

*no bias obviously

Length? Like a babys arm.....
(never-right -getting it wrong since '78, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 10:18, Reply)

4x school mates + parents out for evening + current fad =

A dark, stormy night and there we were, seated around a candle-lit kitchen table with a wine glass and a makeshift OUIJA/SPIRIT board.
'Are there any spirits abroad to-night?' - Y-E-S. (alright!)
'Will you identify yourself?' - Y-E-S. (gulp!) pause, J-I-M-I.
A discussion ensues...'What sort of shaggin' name is that?.' and, 'Just our bleedin' luck to get an illiterate ghost.' - Worldlywise me opines; 'Hang on, Jimi Hendrix just died recently', a short respectful silence falls...then we continue...
'Will you appear to us?' - Y-E-S. (More gulps and a couple of nervous farts.)
CRASH! - the back door bursts open and a neighbour bursts in...'Thank the fuckin' Christ for that, I thought the house was on fire - you young shaggin' eejits!'
Result; 2x filled underpants, 1x dead faint and a semi-catatonic vegetable - me - I could'nt move or speak for over an hour.
Have I meddled with the black arts since? - er, no.
(firkhamhall, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 9:57, Reply)

For once, I did the scaring....
For a while I did a stint as a cabbie somewhere in a backward town along the south coast of the UK.
Normally, I'm the definition of a cautious and considerate driver, that was until I got "the call".
A call to do a pick up from one of the local "celebrity" addresses.
Apparently this bloke was big in America (some awful christian band) and one of his friends needed a lift to the nearest train station.
So, I pull up to this big house and a builder, who was doing a spot of renovation, says to me "You're not here for Beddingfield are you?"
We all know how brickies like to take the piss so I just assumed he was pulling my leg.
"Better fucking not be!" and we all laughed.

This quickly died down to a snigger as, and I kid you not, Daniel Beddingfield gets into the back of my car.
Complete with stupid wooley hat and dark sunglasses, despite being mid October.

At this point I should point out that I have never hated anyone without good reason.
Except the Beddingfield. Halfway through the journey, and to my utter horror, the cnut starts singing in the back of my taxi.
The evil, pompus, big headed twat actually thought I'd be impressed.
Well, driving through a sleepy village on route, I decided to floor it.
The quicker this turd was out of my taxi the better as far as I was concerned.

I raced round corners, skidded round bends and braked heavily at junctions.
Even Schumacer would have had trouble keeping up (maybe not, but you get the picture)
It's not long before Beddingfield starts making comments about "slowing down" as his white knuckles bulge against his pathetic grip on the door handle.
This only fuels my fire and I increase the speed, culminating in a screeching halt outside the station.

As I got up and opened the door to help him out, I honestly think he was five seconds away from pissing himself.
I like to think I gave him flashbacks to the near crippling crash he experienced a few years back (here's to hoping)
And to top it all off the chubby nob-end didn't leave me a tip!

Celebrities? Pah!
You'll never guess who I had in the back of my cab last week........
(plant rolls out of bed like a fat wobbly tub of lard, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 9:30, Reply)

Seance...
Last halloween I organised a seance for some of my friends and family, replete with the bone chilling tale of a one eyed mutilated ghost appearing nightly in the spare room, whose dark soul we would try to contact.

Being a professional magician means that my seance was not a let down, there was plenty of ghost in there, and not to put too fine a point on it, it shit them up good and proper.

What was concerning though was the week before I was lying in bed in the dark working out a script when I suddenly and completely got the heeby jeebies. The black open door to my cupboard seemed to loom, and I began to visualise... how would I feel if I saw movement, or the one green eye staring out at me? Before I knew it, my heart was going ten to the dozen and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body...

Of course my cupboard contains only jackets and dresses (not mine you understand), but having felt that fear gave me something to work with when I related the tale of the ghost to the party. By the time I told the story I could deliver it with shaking hands and barely restrained tears of distress. It was quality, they totally believed it!

I love abusing my powers! Good times!
(ManekiNeko loves horses, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 9:09, Reply)

Doom
Playing Doom3. In the dark. With my ultra-expensive* sony earphones in. Loudly.

It's quiet.

Some random, weird monster thing appears out of nowhere and starts kicking the shit out of me - meanwhile I have to peel myself off the cieling having screamed like a big girl.

I play it with speakers now. A little quieter.

* Ok, not **THAT** expensive :-)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 9:03, Reply)

Driving european style
I was taught to drive by BSM in London, a week after I passed my test I moved to rural Wales - so all in all I can cope with just about any traffic situation. However I now live in continental Europe where all rules of the road are ignored and indicators an optional extra.

I was driving to work a year ago and was running late, in retrospect very lucky as this meant that rush hour had passed and so there were fewer cars on the road. I was coming off one motorway slip road to join another motorway, checked my mirrors and saw a lorry on the main motorway. BSM would have had me allow the lorry to pass and I would overtake him at a convenient time. No, I am a european driver now, so I overtook on the inside. It became apparent to me that he had not seen me and he was pulling over to the inside lane. He was driving one of these enormous lorrys and I was in a VW Polo. I knew I wasn't going to quite make it so I tooted my horn... too late, he clipped the drivers side sending me crashing into the crash barrier at the side of the road. My car then flipped around and I was pinned driver's side to the front of his cab where upon he pushed me along the motorway for a hundred yards - all I could think was "christ, not like this!" before I was flung off, spun across 3 lanes of traffic and crashed into the central reservation.

I put the engine into neutral, turned off the engine and got out of the car. The lorry driver (French naturally) came running across the motorway to apologise (see, I told you this was european driving, despite me being technically wrong, he took full responsibility).

He said I didn't scream much for a woman who's been hit by a lorry, I can only assume he did this on a regular basis.

The funny thing was I'd been really suicidal at the time but that really sharpened my focus as to wanting to live. My insurance paid for the car and let me keep it (I sold it on ebay) and I spunked the money on a horse (which then later attacked me).

I now have a very large & safe car which I crashed last month, but with a feeling of utter calm.

Don't skimp on safety kids, buy the biggest, heaviest fucking car you can afford!

Apologies for length, but when a polo is hit by a 16-wheeler they do tend to compact a little.
(betty_bongo, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 9:02, Reply)

This Morning...
To the twat in the Black Audi with Registration KK55TW*

You my friend are a bell end. Next time you want to bum rape my car, have some consideration for my pants!
(neversaydie, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 8:49, Reply)

oh, and this
for my friend's 11th birthday, she had a sleepover where we watched several movies in her conservatory. One of these movies was the ever-popular 'IT'.

As mentioned before, scary movies don't bother me now and didn't back then either, even if they do have scary clowns. But the others were crapping themselves, and I particularly noticed the girl next to me freezing up, even though she wasn't watching the screen. Then I became aware that everyone was very quiet, not moving, and staring at the door to the house. So, following their gaze, I saw a dark figure standing in the unlit doorway, not moving.

I'll admit, I was bloody terrified, until my logic chip kicked in. What was more likely? - an evil serial killer clown leaping into reality, or, as I suddenly realised, my friend's mum...

Way too good an opportunity to miss, I screamed: "Hello Mrs Smith*"
*my friend's mum's name, of course

Despite the obvious and innocuous statement, the pitch made all ten or so girls scream like idiots, until they realised what I'd actually said.

Good times.
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 8:46, Reply)

Took out the whole block.
Not my last, but probably my scariest.

25 years ago back at school my class had just done registration and were milling around waiting for the first lesson bell to go. I was casually swinging an odd foot long bit of wire around in my fingers, watching the circle the end of it made. Wandering over to the window I noticed one of the electrical sockets had a cracked plastic surround, so you could see bare metal inside of it. Now, even at that age I knew that electricity was dangerous, but that didn't stop me seeing how close I dare swing the bare ended bit of wire to the "where there's blame, there's a claim" broken socket. Suddenly - THWACK! Blue sparks, loud bang and all the lights went out - in the whole building Didn't get a shock but was more scared that gingerbloke (who was normally a 12 year old) had suddenly become the focus of the whole science block of four classrooms of kids. Length? As I said about a foot long with a bare end.
(JuanTheMan "hair-color:#FF6600", Fri 23 Feb 2007, 8:38, Reply)

how to tell this succinctly...hmmm...
I can watch any horror movie and end it with a shrug. They just don't scare me. Unless they're Japanese, because then I have 'issues'. Even some remakes.

'The Grudge'. Watching it on dvd with the boyfriend, it was really, really getting to me, to the extent I was spending a lot of time under a duvet with my eyes screwed shut. The first scary crescendo had happened, and it was the scene on the bus in the daytime. I'd decided this calmer moment was a good cue to stop watching. Asked the other half to press stop. Took my head out of the covers and screamed.

See, the bugger didn't press stop, he pressed pause. And on the screen, in the otherwise perfectly innocuous daytime bus scene, reflected in the window by Sarah Michelle Gellar was the face of the evil girl.

So flapping and trying to calm myself down, shouted at boyfriend to press stop, NOT PAUSE. So of course, he pressed PLAY. Cue that awful, croaking/screeching noise, and lots more screaming.
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 8:29, Reply)

Shellsuits in Cardiff
4 years ago, kicking out time in the centre of Cardiff, this fella in a nice white shellsuit started giving me and 2 mates the 'What the fuck you looking at, grief'. Not usually one for confrontations, I was feeling a little brave so told him 'A 5 foot 6 mingebag wearing a shit shellsuit, and by the way mate, nice gold sovreigns'. He seemed to take offence at this and walked off muttering, 'Getting my mates'. We proceeded to my mates car, and being approximately 100 metres from it, I suddenly heard a lot of running shoes. Not looking we legged it to the car, where one of my mates proceeded to have a piss in the hedge, precisely at the same point one of the mob came through it, making his white shellsuit somewhat yellower. About 10 of his mates followed suit over the hedge. By this point we were in the car (a renault clio, no hummer by anyone's imagination) and they proceeded to batter the living daylights out of it, trying to get through the windows at us. My mate decided to drive like a pensioner on their driving test, I think it was a good 200 metres before the last one let go of the car, and my bowels relaxed.

Films don't scare me, a dozen chavs in shellsuits covered with piss do.

Apologies for length, it was cold and I was scared.
(RickGrimes Quite frankly, disappointed on, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 8:10, Reply)

The day after my sister passed her driving test...
...and she decided she was going to drive me to college.

I shall never forget that morning in which I realised that free of her L-Plates, she had inherited her mother's lead boots.

I still wake in a cold sweat as I remember her overtaking several cars and a tractor (in a Renault 4!) on a blind bend on a country road, meeting an equally terrified van driver coming the other way. Fortunately, as I screamed blue murder (and she too - her exact words being, I recall "Get out of my way YOU FUUUUUUCK!"), he managed a detour across a field to avoid killing the pair of us to death.

Next day: "No thanks, I'll take the train".


Also: Robbed at gunpoint by AK47-wielding goons, but it's pretty true to say that you are only terrified after the event. For about three years, in my case.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 8:08, Reply)

It's one of those OHNONONONONO fear moments
I'd gone north from Portsmouth to Blackpool to buy a van - a Bedford CF2 2.3litre, for those what care- and had spent the last daylight hours at the owners place, fitting a new fuel pump to it. It fired up, chugged happily (if deafeningly) and I ground it into first and set off on my merry way.

After about 20 minutes on the motorway, I realise it's pushing midnight and that I'll need some coffee if I even what to hit Birmingham that night, so I ease off the accelerator and turn into a service station. The ramp goes up sharply, but the weight of the van is rather large, so I tapped the brakes and whaddyaknow, my foot goes straight to the floor. Im cool, I know the score, so I change down a gear and gently tug the handbrake. The rear end immediately tightens up like a Scotsman when it's his round, and the van starts a slow, lazy 40mph spin. I turn into the skid, but the road is damp and the tyres are bald, and she slides just enough for the drivers front wheel to hit the high kerb. With a high centre of gravity. floppy suspension and fuck all in it except me, the van tilts, the engine roars once more and I can feel my bowels clench as we just teeter on the brink of going over.

And we do. CLUNK.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 6:59, Reply)

And then there was the time
when I moved from Florida to New Mexico. Driving a couple thousand miles in a pickup truck loaded down with everything the missus and I owned (though I was driving alone) I had a few good scares:

1. Driving through southern Mississippi during a hurricane. 25-30 foot visibility, and I'm driving at 20mph on the interstate. Couldn't see a damn thing in front of me. I had to drive like that for a good 20 miles before I could pull off the road and rest; during which time I realized that the reason I couldn't see too well was that all the weight in the back was throwing off the aim of the headlights. Good thing I packed my toolbox where I could reach it easily.

2. Driving through morning rush hour traffic in Houston, TX and watching an oncoming car hydroplane and slide sideways straight at me. Thankfully there was a concrete divider between us.

3. After driving for over an hour at 90+ mph (speedo on the truck only read to 85), I pulled over in the middle of nowhere to get out and stretch... and see smoke coming from under the truck! As I'm shitting myself, I get down on all fours to look underneath and see where the smoke is coming from. All I can see is transmission fluid dripping onto the exhaust. I'm about 100 miles from anywhere significant, no spare money for repairs, as all my savings had gone into moving, and not within range of any cellular towers anyway. So what do I do while contemplating the situation? Sit down and have a smoke. The truck eventually stopped dripping, and a check of the trans fluid showed that it wasn't low. 10 miles down the road, I check again... still no problems. I stayed WELL under the speed limit for the remainder of the trip.
(WillF http://www.flickr.com/photos/silverfischdotnet/, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 6:07, Reply)

LOLerskates
Never ever get on the back of anything with the power of independant thought and expect to be in control.
You wouldn't do it with a cow. You wouldn't do it with a hippo. You wouldn't do it with a triceratops. A horse may be more comfy but it's still asking for serious trub in my book.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Fri 23 Feb 2007, 5:59, Reply)

Back when I used to live in Carlsbad, NM
We used to make semi-regular trips to Roswell (yes, THAT Roswell) to get Thai food. So one afternoon, I decide to make the trip on my own. As I'm coming back, a fog rolls in out of nowhere - unusual for evening time in that area. So I'm driving alone in the dark, in the fog, when I suddenly see a flashing amber light off to my right. Not that big a deal, until I notice that it's following a course parallel to mine, at the exact same speed. So just as I'm starting to freak out a little, a spotlight shines down from the source of the amber light. Not on me, but ahead of the object in question. Ignoring the sudden bulge in the back of my pants and the smell that comes with it, I continue driving and decide to roll down the window a bit to see if I can hear an engine noise, something... no sound other than the wind whooshing by. Not being terribly keen on the idea of alien abduction and anal probing, I decide to speed up a little, at which point the object turns to its right, and then right again, disappearing from view.

Aliens? Nope. Chaves County Sheriff helicopter searching for an escaped inmate from the Roswell Correctional Center, which I found out about on the 10 o'clock news that night.

Length: Long and skinny, with bits of chicken. Mmm, phad thai!
(WillF http://www.flickr.com/photos/silverfischdotnet/, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 5:55, Reply)

Tiny Pizza Girl
When i was 19 and a very scrawny wee girl, i had a part time job delivering pizza.
So one shift I got robbed on a delivery by two young men armed with a fence paling. That was pretty terrifying. They got 2 pizzas and AUD$54.
Went back to base shaking and in tears only to have my manager say "I hope you didnt give them the hot bag". What a toad.

But at least ive never been scared of anal rape as my robbers must have been when they were sentanced to 18 months jail.
(spent.fish flipping and gasping, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 5:33, Reply)

Backyard bogie men
My friend and I decide to 'vist' (scare the shit out of) a girlfriend who is home alone as her parents where off watching turtles shoot eggs out their hoo-haas on some beach in Oman.

We crept around the back of the house and watched her through the blinds at the patio doors. There she is innocently chitty chatting to someone on the phone... it was just like in a movie, she is talking and walking and we are watching and creeping. We prepare our attire - woolie scarf masks - and as she approaches the window we burst out from behind the shrubbery and pound violently on the glass. She screams blue murder , drops the phone, her eyes boggle and (strangely) she starts hopping from one foot to the other. After a good 30 seconds her adrenaline levels subside enough to see it's us. Mass hysteria from her and mass hysterics from us ensues.

She did, bless her, get over it. Her mother - the one on the phone who was 4,000 miles away and hears her daughter's final words of 'I think there's someone is the garden' her dying scream and then the phone going dead never EVER forgave us...

I wouldn't have either.

Me = twisted twat!
(Beejster, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 4:09, Reply)

Hallucinations.
When I was younger I had a virus which lead to me hallucinating my mouth was slowly filling with cement, I could hear children screaming when the room was quiet and one night in the dark I saw wasps crawling over my duvet. Hundreds of them.

Doesn't compare to the time I decided to try speed and my friend gave me too much though. Not only was my heart palpitating like mad but I didn't sleep for 4 days as everytime I closed my eyes the monsters started running at me. I was terrified I'd never sleep again. Just say no kids, stick to beer. Theres more vomit but at least you can sleep after a session.
(chakaflange, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 3:36, Reply)

Blessed relief.
A few years ago, I was sitting, bored, on my computer downstairs in my parents house. My parents were out for some party or a meal or whatever and the house was pretty quiet, I was clacking away happily on MSN with a bit of music on.

Then, suddenly, I heard an enourmous crash. It sounded like shattering glass. I froze and didn't even dare to look behind me, as the door was open (computer was facing the opposite wall). What was it? Burglars? Gary Glitter? I tried to compose myself, but couldn't even stop my hands from shaking. My pulse raced and I could feel the blood thumping in my ears. In short, I was shitting it.

After about 2 hours of sitting stiff as a brick, not even daring to type, I still couldn't even move. I just sat there frozen in panic. I didn't even dare to turn the music down to even here if what it was was still around.

A few minutes later, I heard drunken, happy voices and laughter. The sound of the keys jingling in the lock had never brought me such relief. My parents came in and asked what the matter was when they saw the state I was in. I explained and we went to investigate.

The mirror in the dining room had fallen off the wall. A great big thing it was, the nail had slowly succumbed to its weight over the years and it lay before us in pieces.

The feeling of laughing one's arse off after being so terrified is quite exotic.
(trickypogo, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 2:17, Reply)

Lads Holiday
Magaluf 2005. Got absolutely out of my brain, walking home i thought it was a good idea to wrench a tree (small sapling) out of the ground and proceed to beat the shit out of one of those big Biffa bins, you know the ones you find behind pubs, bars that sort of thing.

Having a jolly good time smashing this bin up until i hear a spanish woman shout 'Policia!' i did the translating, took me a bit, my friends told me to leg it, so i did.

Ran to my hotel with 6, yes 6 police officers chasing me, they came into the hotel and got security to search for me too. By that time id jumped over a friends apartment blacony and pretended to be asleep in bed. Now my mates come in and tell me to get lost because the police are searching all the ground floor rooms on that floor because someone saw my spiderman effort. I escape to my own apartment, just the next floor up and hide in the wardrobe on top of the safe thing for 2 hours. Sweat pouring our of me and i really needed a shit. I was terrified that id be caught and sent to a spanish jail where everyone would take turns in bumming me to death. Also what would my parents think?

Anyway after 2 hours of hiding and nearly crapping my pants i appeared to raucous applause from my mates. I got told my friend got the police officers to go away by dancing round the pool with his walkman on.
I dont know either.
(PieEater, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 2:12, Reply)

Never been so scared, EVER
Unprotected sex. Just no.
(Richwisheshewas1337, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 2:10, Reply)

Not ghosty scared, but scared.
Flying into Philadelphia, PA, we hit the runway pretty hard. It got nice and quiet then I heard the guy behind me say "we're not down yet!" We had hit hard enough to bounce back into the air for a few seconds.

No sooner had he said that, then the left wheel hits, hard! and we bounce back up to hit hard on the right wheel, bounced again then finally both back wheels at once.

Walking out, I wanted to call the pilot "Captain Kangaroo," but I just wanted out of there.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 2:05, Reply)