What the heck are black-eyed kids (BEKs)? I heard about these on a website where NESARA was being discussed, and found it interesting, especially since there's been a bit of recent activity around this subject on conspiracy-friendly sites (e.g. Rense, abovetopsecret) including a post today at the political site Free Republic (below).
Free Republic
Paranormal: An Encounter With Black-Eyed Kids
Jason Offut
Posted on Thursday, August 20, 2009 10:59:04 AM by Nikas777
There’s something wrong with these children.
They approach quietly, yet boldly. They’re young, usually teens or slightly younger. They insist on coming inside your house to use the bathroom, the telephone or just for a drink of water. But for some reason you’re afraid. Why? They’re just kids. Then you notice their eyes – black, as if the pupil had poured over its banks. You don’t let them in – or do you?
Black-eyed kids. The term has floated across cyberspace since Jan. 16, 1998 when journalist Brian Bethel first posted his chilling encounter with overly-lucid children whose eyes were coal black; not a hint of iris, nor white.
And they scared the hell out of him.
The existence of these children has since become an Internet urban legend, but is it really just that? Maybe not.
Below is a story of black-eyed kids from an anonymous reader of “From the Shadows.” I’ll call him “Bill.”
Bill was driving through Afton, Okla., a town in the northwestern part of the state on historic Route 66 just south of the Will Rogers Turnpike, when he stopped to see some old friends.
“I saw they had a new dog; a very stout dachshund,” Bill said. “I asked them about it and Michael said, ‘The weird kids left her when they left town.’”
Bill asked Michael and his wife about these “weird kids.” They told him a group of young people had knocked on their door and begged to come in and talk. The “weird kids” were driving an old van, but Michael thought it was in good shape because it didn't make noise.
“However, he and his wife felt uneasy and didn't let them in,” Bill said. A few of the kids left the van and walked the dachshund Michael and his wife ended up with. “But they didn’t seem too attached to (the dog).”
Bill asked Michael if these young people were Mormons.
“Hell, no,” Michael said. “They didn't dress right and they were junkies."
"Junkies?" Bill asked.
Michael’s story has disturbed Bill ever since.
“ (Jan. 18), a friend was talking about dark forces on the move and mentioned black-eyed kids,” Bill said. “I Googled it and a chill went up my spine.”
Bill contacted Michael about the information he’d found on these entities, but, like many who’ve encountered these black-eyed kids, Michael and his wife just want to forget meeting them. Their experience was terrifying.
“They don't want anything to do with an investigation,” Bill said, “or have their name made public, or really have anything to do with any further conversation about black-eyed kids.”
"Yeah,” Michael said. “Their pupils were huge."
The kids’ eyes were solid black. Looking into their eyes was like staring into a void.
Turned away at the door, the black-eyed kids eventually left, to the relief of Michael and his wife. Some time later, Michael saw the dachshund wandering around town, felt sorry for it, and brought it home. Michael and his wife are thankful the black-eyed kids never returned for it.
Jason Offutt is a syndicated columnist, author, college journalism instructor, and fan of all things strange. His book of ghost stories, “Haunted Missouri: A Ghostly Guide to the Show-Me-State's Most Spirited Spots ,” is available NOW. Jason is available for interviews, speaking engagements and beer festivals. E-mail all serious inquiries to: jasonoffutt@hotmail.com.
So, you may ask, what does this nonsense have to do with NESARA (besides that it's nonsense)? Well, nothing right now (besides sharing an audience) but that soon may change. After all, the principles behind this scam are always talking about indigo children, crystal children and Montauk boys (why never any Montauk girls?), why not this? It seems that this Offut guy is posting this all around trying to get an internet buzz going, with a bit of a push we might be able to have this seep over into the NESARA world.
So, this is Commander Deep Knight, 39 levels about the President, asking all of you to visualize BEKs stopping packies, thwarting announcements, pushing back first contact, and otherwise delaying ascension. You don't have to do this 24/7, 23/6 is good enough, but you have to really believe it's going to happen or else when it doesn't it will be your fault. Or, if you want to actually do something, you might scatter BEK references around the internet where Dove & Co. will find them and see what happens. After all, they need a new scapegoat to blame their nonsense not coming true on (except for Bellringer, who has Obama and the Jews) and why not BEKs?
Black Eyed Kids
Moderator: Deep Knight
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Deep Knight
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- Location: Washington DC
Black Eyed Kids
"Follow the Money"
-
Deep Knight
- Posts: 5397
- Joined: Wed Feb 05, 2003 4:42 am
- Location: Washington DC
Re: Black Eyed Kids
BLACK EYED KIDS
Some people claim that this phenomenon is an urban legend. But it doesnt quite fit the definition of an urban legend. The stories of these creepy black eyed kids comes from all over the US, not just one place. The stories are very few in number and have just surfaced in the last ten years. The first story I remembering hearing about these creepy 'kids' was from a man named Brian Bethel, a reporter for the Abilene Reporter, who published his story of an encounter with three boys (see below).
"I don't really know what I'd call this story if I was submitting it for publication in Fate or something of its ilk. "Brian vs. the Evil, Black-eyed, Possibly Vampiric or Demonic But At Least Not Bloody Normal Kids" doesn't have much of a ring to it. (Shrug.)
But that's at least an accurate title. As so many things do, it all started out innocently.
My Internet Service Provider used to have offices in a shopping center before they moved to their (comparatively) lush accommodations elsewhere. There was a drop box at that original location. The monthly bill was due, and thus, there but for the Grace of the Net I went. It was about 9:30 p.m. when I left. From my relatively isolated apartments, it's about 10-15 minutes or so to downtown (Abilene has a population of about 110,000).
Right next to Camalott Communications' old location is a $1.50 movie theater. At the time, the place was featuring that masterwork of modern film, Mortal Kombat. I drove by the theater on the way into the center proper and pulled into an empty parking space.
Using the glow of the marquee to write out my check, I was startled to hear a knock on the driver's-side window of my car.
I looked over and saw two children staring at me from street. I need to describe them, with the one feature (you can guess what it was) that I didn't realize until about half-way through the conversation cleverly omitted. Both appeared to be in that semi-mystical stage of life children get into where you can't exactly tell their age. Both were boys, and my initial impression is that they were somewhere between 10-14.
Boy No. 1 was the spokesman. Boy No. 2 didn't speak during the entire conversation -- at least not in words.
Boy No. 1 was slightly taller than his companion, wearing a pull-over, hooded shirt with a sort of gray checked pattern and jeans. I couldn't see his shoes. His skin was olive-colored and had curly, medium-length brown hair. He exuded an air of quiet confidence.
Boy No. 2 had pale skin with a trace of freckles. His primary characteristic seemed to be looking around nervously. He was dressed in a similar manner to his companion, but his pull-over was a light green color. His hair was a sort of pale orange.
They didn't appear to be related, at least directly.
"Oh, great," I thought. "They're gonna hit me up for money." And then the air changed.
I've explained this before, but for the benefit of any new lurkers out there, right before I experience something strange, there's a change in perception that comes about which I describe in the above manner. It's basically enough time to know it's too late.
So, there I was, filling out a check in my car (which was still running) and in a sudden panic over the appearance of two little boys. I was confused, but an overwhelming sense of fear and unearthliness rushed in nonetheless. The spokesman smiled, and the sight for some inexplicable reason chilled my blood. I could feel fight-or-flight responses kicking in. Something, I knew instinctually, was not right, but I didn't know what it could possibly be. I rolled down the window very, very slightly and asked "Yes?"
The spokesman smiled again, broader this time. His teeth were very, very white.
"Hey, mister, what's up? We have a problem," he said. His voice was that of a young man, but his diction, quiet calm and ... something I still couldn't put my finger on ... made my desire to flee even greater. "You see, my friend and I want to see the films, but we forgot our money," he continued. "We need to go to our house to get it. Want to help us out?"
Okay. Journalists are required to talk to lots of people, and that includes children. I've seen and spoken to lots of them. Here's how that usually goes:
"Uh ... M ... M ... Mister? Can I see that camera? I ... I won't break it or anything. I promise. My dad has a camera, and he lets me hold it sometimes, I guess, and I took a picture of my dog -- it wasn's very good, 'cause I got my finger in the way and ..."
Add in some feet shuffling and/or body swaying and you've got a typical kid talking to a stranger.
In short, they're usually apologetic. People generally teach children that when they talk to adults, they're usually bothering them for one reason or another and they should at least be polite.
This kid was in no way fitting the mold. His command of language was incredible and he showed no signs of fear. He spoke as if my help was a foregone conclusion. When he grinned, it was as if he was trying to say, "I know something ... and you're NOT gonna like it. But the only way you're going to find out what it is will be to do what I say ..."
"Uh, well ..." was the best reply I could offer. Now here's where it starts to get strange.
The quiet companion looked at the spokesman with a mixture of confusion and guilt on his face. He seemed in some ways shocked, not with his friend's brusque manner but that I didn't just immediately open the door. He eyed me nervously.
The spokesman seemed a bit perturbed, too. I still was registering something wrong with both.
"C'mon, mister," the spokesman said again, smooth as silk. Car salesmen could learn something from this kid. "Now, we just want to go to our house. And we're just two little boys."
That really scared me. Something in the tone and diction again sent off alarm bells. My mind was frantically trying to process what it was perceiving about the two figures that was "wrong."
"Eh. Um ...." was all I could manage. I felt myself digging my fingernails into the steering wheel.
"What movie were you going to see?" I asked finally.
"Mortal Kombat, of course," the spokesman said. The silent one nodded in affirmation, standing a few paces behind.
"Oh," I said. I stole a quick glance at the marquee and at the clock in my car. Mortal Kombat had been playing for an hour, the last showing of the evening.
The silent one looked increasingly nervous. I think he saw my glances and suspected that I might be detecting something was not above-board.
"C'mon, mister. Let us in. We can't get in your car until you do, you know," the spokesman said soothingly. "Just let us in, and we'll be gone before you know it. We'll go to our mother's house."
We locked eyes.
To my horror, I realized my hand had strayed toward the door lock (which was engaged) and was in the process of opening it. I pulled it away, probably a bit too violently. But it did force me to look away from the children.
I turned back. "Er ... Um ...," I offered weakly and then my mind snapped into sharp focus.
For the first time, I noticed their eyes. They were coal black. No pupil. No iris. Just two staring orbs reflecting the red and white light of the marquee.
At that point, I know my expression betrayed me. The silent one had a look of horror on his face in a combination that seemed to indicate: A) The impossible had just happened and B) "We've been found out!"
The spokesman, on the other hand, wore a mask of anger. His eyes glittered brightly in the half-light.
"Cmon, mister," he said. "We won't hurt you. You have to LET US IN. We don't have a gun ..."
That last statement scared the living hell out of me, because at that point by his tone he was plainly saying, "We don't NEED a gun."
He noticed my hand shooting down toward the gear shift. The spokesman's final words contained an anger that was complete and whole, and yet contained in some respects a tone of panic: "WE CAN'T COME IN UNLESS YOU TELL US IT'S OKAY. LET ... US .... IN!"
I ripped the car into reverse (thank goodness no one was coming up behind me) and tore out of the parking lot. I noticed the boys in my peripheral vision, and I stole a quick glance back.
They were gone. The sidewalk by the theater was deserted." ----
It's one of the creepiest stories I've ever read, not because Mr. Bethel is such an amazing story-teller (which he may be) but because of the nature of these kids. They come to you asking for help, usually in three's but also in pairs, one is a little older than the other two and seems to be the 'leader" who does the bulk of the speaking. Their problems are similar with each case...they want you to either invite them into your car or into your house. But they won’t force their way in, they want you to invite them. It has to be with your permission. People who have supposedly witnessed these 'visits' claim to have an overwhelming feeling of dread wash over and grip them as they stare into the kids' eyes (which are completely black, no white whatsoever).
They claim to feel pure evil, like they are going to die just by looking into their eyes, and there is some kind of hold these kids have on their victims, almost willing them with their eyes to open the door and let them in. Those who have been able to tell the tale are the ones who were able to break the almost trance-like state they are in to drive away from them or slam the door in their faces...to refuse entry to them and to get away from them. There are a few stories told about people who actually let these kids into their cars and end up getting in a fatal accident, or letting them into their house or apartment and dying of a heart attack or some freak accident.
So, who are these kids? Some claim the black eyes would indicate that they are demons, which would make sense as demons are supposed to have some trait about them that distinguishes them from humans, often it is the eyes. Demons have never walked the earth as humans, therefore they cannot represent themselves as wholely human. Demons also have to have permission, whether direct or indirect, realized or given intentionally, in order to invade a person's life and it is the same for these 'evil kids.'
Some people claim that this phenomenon is an urban legend. But it doesnt quite fit the definition of an urban legend. The stories of these creepy black eyed kids comes from all over the US, not just one place. The stories are very few in number and have just surfaced in the last ten years. The first story I remembering hearing about these creepy 'kids' was from a man named Brian Bethel, a reporter for the Abilene Reporter, who published his story of an encounter with three boys (see below).
"I don't really know what I'd call this story if I was submitting it for publication in Fate or something of its ilk. "Brian vs. the Evil, Black-eyed, Possibly Vampiric or Demonic But At Least Not Bloody Normal Kids" doesn't have much of a ring to it. (Shrug.)
But that's at least an accurate title. As so many things do, it all started out innocently.
My Internet Service Provider used to have offices in a shopping center before they moved to their (comparatively) lush accommodations elsewhere. There was a drop box at that original location. The monthly bill was due, and thus, there but for the Grace of the Net I went. It was about 9:30 p.m. when I left. From my relatively isolated apartments, it's about 10-15 minutes or so to downtown (Abilene has a population of about 110,000).
Right next to Camalott Communications' old location is a $1.50 movie theater. At the time, the place was featuring that masterwork of modern film, Mortal Kombat. I drove by the theater on the way into the center proper and pulled into an empty parking space.
Using the glow of the marquee to write out my check, I was startled to hear a knock on the driver's-side window of my car.
I looked over and saw two children staring at me from street. I need to describe them, with the one feature (you can guess what it was) that I didn't realize until about half-way through the conversation cleverly omitted. Both appeared to be in that semi-mystical stage of life children get into where you can't exactly tell their age. Both were boys, and my initial impression is that they were somewhere between 10-14.
Boy No. 1 was the spokesman. Boy No. 2 didn't speak during the entire conversation -- at least not in words.
Boy No. 1 was slightly taller than his companion, wearing a pull-over, hooded shirt with a sort of gray checked pattern and jeans. I couldn't see his shoes. His skin was olive-colored and had curly, medium-length brown hair. He exuded an air of quiet confidence.
Boy No. 2 had pale skin with a trace of freckles. His primary characteristic seemed to be looking around nervously. He was dressed in a similar manner to his companion, but his pull-over was a light green color. His hair was a sort of pale orange.
They didn't appear to be related, at least directly.
"Oh, great," I thought. "They're gonna hit me up for money." And then the air changed.
I've explained this before, but for the benefit of any new lurkers out there, right before I experience something strange, there's a change in perception that comes about which I describe in the above manner. It's basically enough time to know it's too late.
So, there I was, filling out a check in my car (which was still running) and in a sudden panic over the appearance of two little boys. I was confused, but an overwhelming sense of fear and unearthliness rushed in nonetheless. The spokesman smiled, and the sight for some inexplicable reason chilled my blood. I could feel fight-or-flight responses kicking in. Something, I knew instinctually, was not right, but I didn't know what it could possibly be. I rolled down the window very, very slightly and asked "Yes?"
The spokesman smiled again, broader this time. His teeth were very, very white.
"Hey, mister, what's up? We have a problem," he said. His voice was that of a young man, but his diction, quiet calm and ... something I still couldn't put my finger on ... made my desire to flee even greater. "You see, my friend and I want to see the films, but we forgot our money," he continued. "We need to go to our house to get it. Want to help us out?"
Okay. Journalists are required to talk to lots of people, and that includes children. I've seen and spoken to lots of them. Here's how that usually goes:
"Uh ... M ... M ... Mister? Can I see that camera? I ... I won't break it or anything. I promise. My dad has a camera, and he lets me hold it sometimes, I guess, and I took a picture of my dog -- it wasn's very good, 'cause I got my finger in the way and ..."
Add in some feet shuffling and/or body swaying and you've got a typical kid talking to a stranger.
In short, they're usually apologetic. People generally teach children that when they talk to adults, they're usually bothering them for one reason or another and they should at least be polite.
This kid was in no way fitting the mold. His command of language was incredible and he showed no signs of fear. He spoke as if my help was a foregone conclusion. When he grinned, it was as if he was trying to say, "I know something ... and you're NOT gonna like it. But the only way you're going to find out what it is will be to do what I say ..."
"Uh, well ..." was the best reply I could offer. Now here's where it starts to get strange.
The quiet companion looked at the spokesman with a mixture of confusion and guilt on his face. He seemed in some ways shocked, not with his friend's brusque manner but that I didn't just immediately open the door. He eyed me nervously.
The spokesman seemed a bit perturbed, too. I still was registering something wrong with both.
"C'mon, mister," the spokesman said again, smooth as silk. Car salesmen could learn something from this kid. "Now, we just want to go to our house. And we're just two little boys."
That really scared me. Something in the tone and diction again sent off alarm bells. My mind was frantically trying to process what it was perceiving about the two figures that was "wrong."
"Eh. Um ...." was all I could manage. I felt myself digging my fingernails into the steering wheel.
"What movie were you going to see?" I asked finally.
"Mortal Kombat, of course," the spokesman said. The silent one nodded in affirmation, standing a few paces behind.
"Oh," I said. I stole a quick glance at the marquee and at the clock in my car. Mortal Kombat had been playing for an hour, the last showing of the evening.
The silent one looked increasingly nervous. I think he saw my glances and suspected that I might be detecting something was not above-board.
"C'mon, mister. Let us in. We can't get in your car until you do, you know," the spokesman said soothingly. "Just let us in, and we'll be gone before you know it. We'll go to our mother's house."
We locked eyes.
To my horror, I realized my hand had strayed toward the door lock (which was engaged) and was in the process of opening it. I pulled it away, probably a bit too violently. But it did force me to look away from the children.
I turned back. "Er ... Um ...," I offered weakly and then my mind snapped into sharp focus.
For the first time, I noticed their eyes. They were coal black. No pupil. No iris. Just two staring orbs reflecting the red and white light of the marquee.
At that point, I know my expression betrayed me. The silent one had a look of horror on his face in a combination that seemed to indicate: A) The impossible had just happened and B) "We've been found out!"
The spokesman, on the other hand, wore a mask of anger. His eyes glittered brightly in the half-light.
"Cmon, mister," he said. "We won't hurt you. You have to LET US IN. We don't have a gun ..."
That last statement scared the living hell out of me, because at that point by his tone he was plainly saying, "We don't NEED a gun."
He noticed my hand shooting down toward the gear shift. The spokesman's final words contained an anger that was complete and whole, and yet contained in some respects a tone of panic: "WE CAN'T COME IN UNLESS YOU TELL US IT'S OKAY. LET ... US .... IN!"
I ripped the car into reverse (thank goodness no one was coming up behind me) and tore out of the parking lot. I noticed the boys in my peripheral vision, and I stole a quick glance back.
They were gone. The sidewalk by the theater was deserted." ----
It's one of the creepiest stories I've ever read, not because Mr. Bethel is such an amazing story-teller (which he may be) but because of the nature of these kids. They come to you asking for help, usually in three's but also in pairs, one is a little older than the other two and seems to be the 'leader" who does the bulk of the speaking. Their problems are similar with each case...they want you to either invite them into your car or into your house. But they won’t force their way in, they want you to invite them. It has to be with your permission. People who have supposedly witnessed these 'visits' claim to have an overwhelming feeling of dread wash over and grip them as they stare into the kids' eyes (which are completely black, no white whatsoever).
They claim to feel pure evil, like they are going to die just by looking into their eyes, and there is some kind of hold these kids have on their victims, almost willing them with their eyes to open the door and let them in. Those who have been able to tell the tale are the ones who were able to break the almost trance-like state they are in to drive away from them or slam the door in their faces...to refuse entry to them and to get away from them. There are a few stories told about people who actually let these kids into their cars and end up getting in a fatal accident, or letting them into their house or apartment and dying of a heart attack or some freak accident.
So, who are these kids? Some claim the black eyes would indicate that they are demons, which would make sense as demons are supposed to have some trait about them that distinguishes them from humans, often it is the eyes. Demons have never walked the earth as humans, therefore they cannot represent themselves as wholely human. Demons also have to have permission, whether direct or indirect, realized or given intentionally, in order to invade a person's life and it is the same for these 'evil kids.'
"Follow the Money"
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logicman
Re: Black Eyed Kids
Yup they are the angels lead by Christopher Walkin's character..It would be copyright infringement if they said 'Black Eyed Peas'..Those kids got black eyes from the Obama/Clinton/Bush cabal that casper always blames..They got it because they tried to deliver the packies thru mule train trails..
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Brother Dave
Re: Black Eyed Kids
Dirty hippie kids, riding around in a dirty hippie van, suffering from an unnatural dilation of the pupils, and interacting with reality on a 10 second delay?
...
...
Yup, aliens.
...
...
Yup, aliens.
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Deep Knight
- Posts: 5397
- Joined: Wed Feb 05, 2003 4:42 am
- Location: Washington DC
Re: Black Eyed Kids
Interesting insight, and following the "crazed and confused" method of logical deduction (used frequently for NESARA and in general on the Internet) I would say that the problem was delivering packies through 20 mule team mule train trails through Death Valley, which puts it squarely in the lap of President Reagan! I demand he answer for this immediately! And none of this nonsense about how he can't because he's dead, I DEMAND IT!logicman wrote:Those kids got black eyes from the Obama/Clinton/Bush cabal that casper always blames..They got it because they tried to deliver the packies thru mule train trails..
BEK ready to strike! Note the strange aural lines in his aura.
Yet another obvious alien!
"Follow the Money"
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Brandybuck
Re: Black Eyed Kids
You can't prove that he's dead! If there's nothing to hide why aren't we allowed to exhume?!Deep Knight wrote:I demand he answer for this immediately! And none of this nonsense about how he can't because he's dead, I DEMAND IT!
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texino
- Grand Debunker of Medical Quackery
- Posts: 548
- Joined: Fri Mar 25, 2005 3:08 am
Re: Black Eyed Kids
I was visiting my Tia Loupe Texino-Ruiz in Baltimore and those kids come wanting some cheese. I told Tia Loupe to get the bigest pistol in the house and sit on the floor. Loupe is "white" but I am a Black man and the children had not seen me. I come round the side of the house stropping a cut throat razor. When I got close, I snapped the strop together like a gun shot, but those two boys played it cool. "We just need some government cheese Mr." one said. "Ask that lady to let us in brother man" (brother man?) I knew it was time for a diagnostic test. Taking a silver dime hung on a red string from around my neck I swung it toward the nearest kid it pointed rod straight at his eyes and began to hum. A spooky green light highlighted the angular bodies of the children as they gathered by Tia Loupe's front door their dark eyes tracking the dime as it slowly traced the figure for infinity with laser-like sharpness. There were several more than I had noticed and still more seemed to be sliding into the light "Aye Loupitta!" I yelled. "It's OK to open up." Tia Loupe fired her Glock 9mm with extended magazine, from a sitting position. "Bang-Bang-Bang" each shot removed bits of the old door and bigger pieces of the nouveau zombie kids. She was firing blind but I was directing the fire by way of the silver dime. The bullets were not killing the zombies per se just making it hard for them to slip away. I would have to finish them off myself. As I surveyed my killing field I noticed the black hate blinders had slipped from their eyes. Now they glowed an evil red and the ones with intact faces were hurling vile curses far away from the gentile voices they had used to try to gain entrance a scant few minutes before. As I stood in that pool of hell I was reminded of my earthly ties by the sounds of sirens approaching from every point. In a flash Produje un pequeño barrilete de nitrato de plata y de combustible diesel, and with a consuming fireball and a muffled blast, the street was swept clean. I had to split because Tomas Texino is a name not unknown to police in major port cities,. I knew Loupe would have things in order and a good alibi if needed. Those people understand zombies and I don't think you will be hearing many BEK stories from that town in the future.
ҨTexino₪
Siga el dinero
El camino continúa por siempre, pero el partido nunca termina
texino@gmail.com
Siga el dinero
El camino continúa por siempre, pero el partido nunca termina
texino@gmail.com
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Deep Knight
- Posts: 5397
- Joined: Wed Feb 05, 2003 4:42 am
- Location: Washington DC
Re: Black Eyed Kids
Loupe Tenino-Ruiz! How is the old bird? Give her my love and tell her I still remember that cruise out of Miami!texino wrote:I was visiting my Tia Loupe Texino-Ruiz in Baltimore and those kids come wanting some cheese.
texino wrote:I told Tia Loupe to get the bigest pistol in the house and sit on the floor. Loupe is "white" but I am a Black man and the children had not seen me. I come round the side of the house stropping a cut throat razor.
It's always good to keep your tools sharp.
texino wrote: When I got close, I snapped the strop together like a gun shot, but those two boys played it cool. "We just need some government cheese Mr." one said.
"Government cheese," eh? Smells like New World Order processed cheese to me! And wasn't that President 20-Mule-Team Reagan who stopped backing our money with cheese and gave our precious cheese reserves away?!?
texino wrote: "Ask that lady to let us in brother man" (brother man?) I knew it was time for a diagnostic test. Taking a silver dime hung on a red string from around my neck I swung it toward the nearest kid it pointed rod straight at his eyes and began to hum.
Ah, the Glickman-Hensey test. I find it works better if you first cover your body in Crisco.
texino wrote:A spooky green light highlighted the angular bodies of the children as they gathered by Tia Loupe's front door their dark eyes tracking the dime as it slowly traced the figure for infinity with laser-like sharpness. There were several more than I had noticed and still more seemed to be sliding into the light "Aye Loupitta!" I yelled. "It's OK to open up." Tia Loupe fired her Glock 9mm with extended magazine, from a sitting position. "Bang-Bang-Bang" each shot removed bits of the old door and bigger pieces of the nouveau zombie kids.
Strangely enough, the same thing happened on the cruise I referred to above, only I was behind the door with two giggling paramours at the time.
texino wrote: She was firing blind but I was directing the fire by way of the silver dime. The bullets were not killing the zombies per se just making it hard for them to slip away. I would have to finish them off myself. As I surveyed my killing field I noticed the black hate blinders had slipped from their eyes. Now they glowed an evil red and the ones with intact faces were hurling vile curses far away from the gentile voices they had used to try to gain entrance a scant few minutes before.
My grandmother, a very wise woman, always told me, "Beware of anyone with glowing coals where their eyes ought to be." Words to live by.
texino wrote: As I stood in that pool of hell I was reminded of my earthly ties by the sounds of sirens approaching from every point. In a flash Produje un pequeño barrilete de nitrato de plata y de combustible diesel, and with a consuming fireball and a muffled blast, the street was swept clean.
After a wild night, I often clean up the apartment with a little ANFO. Upsets the neighbors a bit, though.
texino wrote: I had to split because Tomas Texino is a name not unknown to police in major port cities,.
So I've heard, or rather, read on ladies' bathrooms' walls (don't ask).
texino wrote: I knew Loupe would have things in order and a good alibi if needed.
Once again, reminiscent of that cruise. On further thought, you might not want to mention anything about me to Loupitta...
I've heard that about Baltimore.texino wrote: Those people understand zombies and I don't think you will be hearing many BEK stories from that town in the future.
Your compelling story is well written and thus must be 100% true! I suggest all of you out there be on the look out for zombies of all types, especially the rare woodlands zombie (Zombius aborilus) who infest forests and fern bars.
"Follow the Money"