july said:

'The hell? lol

Byron said:

I know right

Was that first one supposed to be MJ????? I screamed so loud when I saw that. It scared to holy hell out of me so damn bad that I have not had the courage to look at it again to make sure!!! LOLOL That one of the chicks face close up with pox on it or something made me snap my head back. This is not the thread for me either, I am a scaredy cat!

Byron said:

Now see, call me crazy, but with the right wardrobe on (maybe Viktor & Rolf?),

I son't see creepy I see smokin' fashion editorial

StarMon said:

HEY! How did you get that picture of my ex bf?????

sammij said:

yet adorable

Ottensen said:

Gotta be done.

tiny tim *shudder* what a creepy twat

Perfect example of why I am scared of dolls!!!!

Cloudbuster said:

that's original

roodboi said:

Oooooo, I'm so gonna tell her....

Mach said:

ok that is creepy,

but in the same way that is HOT

cause its ELVIS!!!

PEJ said:

Land of the Lost! That show rocked!!!

amorbella said:

Many times for me Creepy is HOT

CJanssen said:

And scary.

jess555ja said:

Mach said:

PEJ said:

These things used to scare me when I was a kid!!!! I loved Land Of The Lost...but when these creatures came on it spooked me!!!!

PEJ said:

These things used to scare me when I was a kid!!!! I loved Land Of The Lost...but when these creatures came on it spooked me!!!!

Ok, here's something kind of creepy.

I was in a strange mood a while ago and decided to write a little stream of consciousness kind of thing. It's called "Minding My Own Business"

I'm sitting there in the donut shop, minding my own business. I think I was eating one of those things filled
with all the yellow shit, I don't know. It was fuckin' sweet, I know that much. Anyway, I'm sitting there, one
finger down the back of my pants, and out of nowhere this chick comes over to my table and drops this envelope
in my coffee, and leaves. What the fuck did she do that for, I'm thinking to myself. Actually, I'm also thinking to myself,
damn that woman had a fuckin great ass. I'm thinking how much I'd like to take this donut, drown it in my coffee, and rub
it all over those milky white globules of flesh, maybe slippin it in the continental divide a few times for good measure,
and filling by belly with that delicious pastry. All the while, this Latin polka tune keeps playing in my head. I'm not sure
what it is, but its' damn familiar, and while I like the sound of it, it's driving me a little nuts 'cuz I just can't place it.

So, I pick this envelope out of my coffee, grab a napkin and try to soak up all the coffee off of it, and open the thing.
There's a note in there that I open, and try to read. I can't make out the whole thing, but I can make out some of the words.
There's Jerry, meet, syncopation, dead, tonight, Gladiator Club, Tawana, and Cadillac. I don't know what the fuck is going
on now. Obviously the note was meant for me, and while some of those words are interesting, if not erotic, there's also some scary
ones in there as well.

But what the hell do I have to do anyway, so I make plans to head to the Gladiator tonight. I've never been there, but I've heard lots of
stories. You don't hear about clubs like this in the mainstream. You barely hear about it in the underground. Fetish night is the most
normal night they have there. I have a vague idea of where this place is in that I know the building, but there are no signs. Once you
go in, I recall hearing you have to knock on some door using the opening two measure drum beat from the third cut of Miles Davis's
Kind of Blue. The trouble is finding the door.

After the donut shop, I head home to take a much needed bath. I haven't cleaned myself for a few days. Hell, I haven't even wiped
off the only memory from yesterday's fantasy about being raped by the horde of female firefighters in the school nurses' office from my chest.
It's a nice feeling to be clean. I sure as hell wont' be feeling clean later tonight. I spend the next few hours deciding on what to wear
to the club. Clearly I wont' be wearing any drawers, but I've got to get something that will let me blend in. The worst feeling in the
world is sticking out at a place like that. Well, maybe that's not the worst feeling in the world. I imagine having somebody stick a big knife
in your asshole and a smaller one in your dickhole, and then picking you off the ground with them,and twirling you around like a dime store
novelty toy would probably be a little worse. But it's a close second, anyway.I finally settle on a pair of mauve leather chaps, an athletic cup,
painted black with gold sparkles, calf high black leather high heel boots, and a couple of pasties with some donkey fur dangling from them.
I should be able to blend with that.

After knocking on about 5 different doors on the bottom floor of the Fulton building, I finally hit paydirt. The door opens, and I enter a different world.
It's not exactly like I would have thought it to be. First thing I notice is the music. I would have figured on an electronica/techno/industrial type of thing.
Instead, I hear the Vangelis soundtrack to Blade Runner playing at a sickengly loud volume. Everyone seems to be moving in slow motion, and the
atmospheric quality of the music certainly adds to the perception. The obligatory fog envelops the floor, and the strobes and lasers provide the
necessary eye candy. In some ways, it seems like a normal club, but in others in most definitely does not. The first group of people I notice in
one corner seem to be watching a cock figqht. They aren't your typical Cornel Sanders type of cocks, these are the real things. The guys are dressed
up like Victorian women, complete with hoop skirts, white makeup, and puffy hair, holding their bloody, battered cocks in their hands, and swinging
like there's no tomorrow. A group of people stand around watching then, cheering them on. They must have money on the outcome. I walk by
and try not to notice.

On that same wall, I see a bar, and at this point, I could definitely use a drink. So, I walk up to the bartender and order myself a Cosmopolitan. While I
stand there sipping my drink, I turn around to face the dance floor. Actually, there are three levels of dance floor, right on top of each other. The first
level seems as normal as any other club, with the exception of the dress, and the way they're moving. Why the hell are they playing Vangelis,
anyway? The second floor is clearly reserved for the gay crowd. I'll never understand the way they think, I say to myself, as I adjust my pastie. The top
floor is hard to see from down here, but it looks like there is all kinds of things going on up there. I think I see quite a few sex
acts being performed up there, but I also get the sense that there's a lot of unconventional things going on as well. Perhaps the blood dripping from
the ledge helps in giving me that sense. Damn, these violet and green strobe lights really make you question what you see.
Finishing my first drink, I order another, take the glass, and start to wander. I take the freight elevator to the third floor. I have to see what's going on
up here. The inside of the elevator has quite a vile odor to it. Graffiti adorns the walls, and I have no idea what covers the floor, but I'm sure it
contributes to the stench. I can make out stale blood, burning hair, and of course ejaculate. Getting slightly aroused, I have to think about baseball
so as not to cause myself too much pain. Why did I decide to wear the cup, anyway?

The elevator stops at the second floor, and the woman from the donut shop gets on, and closes the door. She's clearly high, but she recognizes me.
"I'm glad you decided it was worth your time to come tonight.", she says. "We don't have a lot of time." "Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that.
You know, I couldn't make out the entire note, seeing as how you put it in my coffee and all. I'm not really sure what's going on, so anything you
could do to fill me in would be greatly appreciated" I ask her. Just then, I feel a sharp pain in the side of my neck and notice that she's just given
me an injection of some kind. Everything starts to get fuzzy. I'm in some dreamlike state, but I can still see things around me. I notice the doors
opening up to the third floor, and as it does I start to go under the effect of what must be a sedative of some kind. I can't focus my mind enough
to see what's actually happening on the third floor, but I get a sense of sheer horror, unlike any other feeling I've ever had. With that, I'm out.

Everything from that point on is hard to remember. My memory is full of holes. I just remember images, suggestions, hints of events mostly.
Most of it is so disturbing that I force myself to not remember it. But at the same time, I wonder if I should try. Perhaps I will someday.
For now, I'd just like to have a donut and some coffee, and be left alone.
Minding my own business...

I'm finally starting to come around now. Fuck, my head hurts. Everything in my field of vision is kind of morphing
into each other. I can hear music, but it sounds miles away. Actually, I sound miles away. From everything. From
the club.

Slivers of memories start coming back to me. I remember the club. The girl in the donut shop. That's right.
She fuckin' stuck me in the club. Things are coming a bit more into focus now. I remember getting in the elevator,
and seeing her there. She put a needle in me, and I was out by the time the doors opened. Man, I remember some
sick fucking shit from that third floor. I'm kind of glad she put me out before I could see what they were really going
to do with that pig. But where the hell am I now? And when?

I'm laying on a stainless steel table and wearing some sort of purple velvet robe. I feel like shit, but I've got to get
up to see what the hell is going on. As I get off of the table, I notice that I must be in some sort of basement. Cement
block walls around me, not much light. One entire wall seems to be made up of drawers. I walk over to it, and open
one of the drawers that is partway open already, and out slides this nude woman. Dead. I'm in a morgue. Damn, this
woman is beautiful. Was beautiful. Hell, she still is beautiful. I bend down and whisper into her hear. "Please just tell me if
you don't want to make love to me." Taking her silence as an invitation, I climb on top of her and make passionate love to her
for the better part of thirty minutes. When I'm finished, I gently kiss her forehead, and tell her how much I love her. I put my
robe back on, and start to walk around to see just how I can get out of here.

I notice a stairwell at the end of the room, and I walk towards it. The music gets a bit louder as I approach the stairs. I open the
door at the top of the stairs and I walk into a dark room full of people. It seems familiar to me. As I get a better look, I realize
that I'm in the VIP section of the Gladiator club. I also notice the woman from the coffee shop sitting in a sofa by window
overlooking the dancefloor . As I walk towards her, she gets off of the couch and walks towards me. "I see you're awake?"
"What the hell is going on?" I ask. "Relax, I'll let you know when you need to. Right now just enjoy yourself for a while." I
start to feel dizzy, and ask her if I can join her on the couch. She takes me over and I lay down in her lap. She gently strokes
my hair and the world once again goes dark and quiet.

As I start to come out of whatever daze or dream I was in, the world around me is chaotic. Music is so loud my ears
are hurting. I'm laying face down, no I'm being forcefully pushed face down in a pool of blood and vomit, and urine, and shit, and
who knows what. There is a crowd of people standing above me and around me in a circle. They're all yelling something, but
there are so many of them yelling, I can't make out the individual words. There are carcasses of animals all around me. There
is a stench so pungent that it smells as loud as the music is. I start to choke, and dislodge something from my mouth. A small,
hairy cock comes shooting out of my mouth. I have no idea what it's from, except that it must be from one of the animals. I
notice that I'm completely nude, and totally shaved. I'm covered in some sort of thick, clear syrup or oil or something. It
makes it impossible for me to move independently. Somebody keeps running a blade of some sort across my back. It feels
like paper cuts. I must have hundreds of cuts on my back. And the searing pain continues to my ass. It feels like somebody
is pushing a broken bottle into me. I have to find a way to get out of here. I lift my head, and see a woman standing naked
above me, her hands spreading her ass as she lets go onto my face. I pass out and once again everything stops.

I don't know if these are my dreams invading my life, or my life invading my dreams. I can't tell anymore which is which...