Whatever

if you move to Arizona, it's a "DRAI HEET!"

 

Now Playing:

 

❤️

 

LoL

 

that was awesome!

 

So I’m cruising down this pitch-black backroad, fog so thick it feels like driving through a cloud of expired ghost farts. I’m thinking, “Man, I really need upgraded fog lights because these stock ones are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.”

Then out of nowhere, bam—there’s a shape right in the middle of the road. My brain screams “DEER!” because, you know, it’s deer season and I’m already clutching the wheel like it owes me money.

I slam the brakes, tires squeal, and as I get closer, the shape shifts and… wait… what?

It’s not a deer.

It’s three Amish kids jammed inside a horse costume, trotting awkwardly like they’re trying to audition for a low-budget Halloween special. They’re yelling something that sounds like “Giddyup!” or maybe “Shut up, Dave!”—hard to tell in the fog.

I nearly lost my mind. I mean, who even thinks to dress up like a horse on a foggy backroad at night? And why am I the only one seeing this circus?

I laugh, but my relief is short-lived because as I’m shaking my head and trying to process what just happened, I flick my headlights a bit more—and there, just past the horse-kids, standing in the fog, is something else.

Something... not right.

A figure. Tall, lanky, with eyes glowing faintly like it’s had one too many cans of energy drink itself. The cryptid of local legend—the “Fogfoot”—staring right at me like it’s deciding if I’m dinner or just a confused tourist.

My heart jumps, and I slam the fog lights on full blast. Spoiler alert: My stock fog lights? About as effective as a candle in a hurricane.


Suddenly it steps forward with a slow, predatory gait. I swear I heard it mutter, “Fresh meat?” in a voice that sounded like a swamp monster gargling gravel.

My heart rockets. I slam the fog lights to full power, but my stock ones barely cut through the fog. The cryptid starts closing in—feet silent, eyes locked, and honestly, I thought this was it.

Then, panic mode kicks in.

I yank the gear into low, slam the gas, and my 4Runner roars like it knows this is do-or-die. The tires bite hard—thank God I had aired down earlier—and I power through the mud and gravel like a man possessed.

The cryptid lunges but can’t keep up on the loose dirt. I’m hauling ass, swerving past the horse-costumed Amish kids, who are now cheering (I think) or yelling something about “Crazy city folk!”

The fog thickens, the engine screams, but my adrenaline-fueled brain and the truck’s grit get me the hell out of there.

I didn’t stop until the cryptid’s green glowing eyes were a distant memory, and my hands finally stopped shaking enough to drop the third (and last) White Monster from my cup holder.

 

Color she wants

https://youtube.com/shorts/jAWmYPBuvqQ?si=VJt1C297PPnGrqnQ

 

HI FEEESHING MAN

 

You need to find a place that serves hucklebery icecream

 

You've outdone yourself





Story Time with World2405

 

I have more. But I’ll be patient

 

"Horses don't wanna race. It's the little bastards on their backs!"

-Gallagher

 

"Ice tea in the winter time? Why not? Because it's fucking dumb!"

-Gallagher

 

“Bullshit” -sactown

 

"You know kids, Santa and your mother have the same handwriting."

-Gallagher

 

I've got fresh coffee and a house music legend going. I'm not sleeping tonight FFS.

https://youtu.be/CTvkbzE4Jus?si=1Gycc12EiZ5WOTRk

 

@World2405 ^^