When were you last really scared?We'd been watching the Shining. We were staying in an old church building. In hindsight, taking the shortcut home after midnight, in the mist, through the old graveyard was a bad idea.
I'm not sure what started it, but suddenly all the hairs on my neck had gone up and I was crapping myself. It was almost as bad as when, after a few cups of coffee too many and buzzing on caffeine, I got freaked out by my own reflection in the toilets.
When were you last really scared?
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chthonic, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 15:43)
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This story should really have gone in the Secret Santa QOTW, but I think it qualifies for this one.Just over a year ago, I was committing slow suicide by working as a phone-monkey. When Christmas rolled around, one of the traditional customs was that of the 'secret Santa'. "What is this tomfoolery?" thought I, never having worked in an office before. It turned out to be a gift-giving ceremony where gifts were distributed randomly among the staff. Well, not entirely randomly; you were told to whom your gift was going, but the recipient was not aware of their benefactor's identity.
Now this whole rigmarole is all very well if the gift-givers are receptive to their beneficiary's tastes; my present went down well, as did most of the others.
Then I received mine.
Feeling through the paper, it seemed to be a box with an unidentifiable hard lumpy object on top of it; the box rattled slightly when shook. I couldn't work out what on earth it was. My imagination boggled until, giving in to sheer curiosity, I opened it very late on Christmas Eve.
All my guesses about what it was were proved wrong. It was a cheap plastic ball-gag and a pair of metal handcuffs (which were the knobbly bit). Odd, I thought, and in poor taste, but the truly frightening bit was yet to come.
You see, I found out when I went back to work later in the week that it had been sent to me not by a secret office dominatrix, but by a rank, greasy would-be date-rapist in the IT department with a severe body-odour problem.
I have never felt quite as ill as I did when I found that out.
What makes it even worse was that he had been under the impression that I was female (I am not, but my abbreviated name is common to both genders.) I dread to think what the consequences would have been had his recipient been a married lady with young children.
Even though he was (apparently) banned from ever taking part in subsequent secret Santas, I was very glad to leave that job (and that scummy dead-end town) shortly afterwards.
(, Sun 25 Feb 2007, 18:37, Reply)
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