During the course of my so far reasonably interesting life, I’ve had the shit scared out of me a few times. There was that time on the Isle of Man when myself and a friend were party to a haunting. Then there was the time that had a mexican stand-off with an angry badger. And I worked at the National Museum of Ireland for a few years where I saw shit that would make your hair stand on end.
But last night, I reached my threshold of terror.
It was about eleven o’ clock and after a discussion on the phone with a friend, I decided that I wouldn’t mind having a drink. In fact, I said to myself in a moment of fabulous clarity, I fancy a glass of Baileys. Yeah, Baileys. And I knew that I had seen a bottle lurking in a press somewhere downstairs. So, off I went. Ho de hum.
It took me ten minutes to locate the nebulous container: tucked away at the back of a press outside where, clearly, nobody had been in quite some time. So I grabbed the box and reefed it out happy that I was about to have a nice glass of Baileys and Ice and bog off to sleep.
Now, I don’t really know where to begin describing the sheer horror of what I discovered. In fact, basic common decency prevents me from posting a picture of the item in question. If you want to see it, you can click on this link and go have a look. I have never seen such a foul-looking, flesh-crawlingly hideous object in my entire life. I am giving serious consideration to sending a photo of ‘the thing’ to National Geographic and seeing do they want to run a special on it. Either that or I sell it to Weta and see can they use it in their next movie.
I’m serious here folks, I had problems sleeping last night with the knowledge that ‘the thing’ was downstairs, tied up in a plastic bag. Just festering. Lurking. Seething in the thrash.
I do not feel well.