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Apocalypse
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i had a college buddy, an international student from korea. he wasn't really a buddy. he was just someone who bought me food in exchange for doing his homework. it was purely a hobbesian relationship.

one day in class, he's clearly stressing the fuck out. 'oh sheet... oh sheeeet.' i smiled, not to help ease the tension that was emanating from his distraught face, but because i just knew this was going to be something good, something else besides the usual 'i fail exam' boring shit. 'uh, whats wrong?' he explains he was at a female friend's house. she had just gotten a new puppy, which understandably had an accident on the carpet. in an attempt to discipline the dog, he kicked it, it flew, hit a wall, and died instantaneously. now, normally i don't have a dark sense of humor. but at this point, i was laughing my ass off. it was fucking terrible what had happened with the dog, but i just couldn't stop laughing. 'EEZ DAT FAHNEE?' 'no, its fucking terrible... i'm sorry.' i regained my composure after a few deep breaths. then he tells me how he tried to perform cpr on the dog. i lost it again.

2/8/2009 10:24:24 PM

wdprice3
BinaryBuffonary
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k

2/8/2009 10:26:40 PM

NCJockGirl
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we need to share this because"?

2/8/2009 10:30:57 PM

TroopofEchos
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2/8/2009 10:31:35 PM

arcgreek
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I hit bambi w/ my truck a few years ago

I had fur hanging from the bumper, fur/meat/blood sprayed underneath it, and in the engine compartment.

2/8/2009 10:33:29 PM

JeffreyBSG
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I had a friend who stupidly tied his cat with a long leash on a high deck

so the cat tried to jump off the deck towards a tree, or something, and hanged itself

my friend just stepped outside, and saw the leash pulled tight and hanging over the deck

that's not funny, though...it's just sad

2/8/2009 10:35:25 PM

JCE2011
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Mayhorn reported 28 ferrets KIA in Mai Chau... atleast twice as many wounded. Damn Gooks ambushed 'em from the rice fields.

I know I said that just Mayhorn lost his ferrets... but our entire squad felt the loss.

2/8/2009 10:39:50 PM

Apocalypse
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well, the story randumbly came to me today. there's a lesson in here somewhere. a sort of revelation.

i suppose my laughing could be explained by offering a psychological profile on this guy, but i won't get into that. i did feel bad about his whole situation, though. he wanted to replace the puppy with a similar jack russell female. he asked for my help, so i obliged. we drove to three different places before finding 'betty lou' in garner. 'are you going to keep betty lou's name?' 'uh, i think my friend here will give it some korean name.' he wanted to housebreak the dog first before giving it to his friend. he told me a few days later, when he was taking the dog for a walk, a black lady was passing by with her child in a stroller. the dog started to bark violently at the child, and the child began to cry in sheer terror. the lady cussed him out, and he apologized profusely. when he got home, he tied betty lou's front legs with string and hung her up on a doorknob. he then beat it with a rolled-up newspaper. i shook my head in disgust. the irony this time wasn't so funny. this guy was old school korean. grew up military, most likely beat by his parents in a culture where corporal punishment was common practice. he gave his friend the dog, but she didn't want it. she returned it back to garner. terrified of koreans, and probably with a heightened need for domination over small children. in a struggle for power, we all die a little.

2/8/2009 10:47:15 PM

Apocalypse
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here is a story about my cat. my brother bought it when it was two months old. when someone gets a kitten, they say it's the cutest kitten. but cicero really was the cutest cat. it was shy and hid under a bed upon arriving in his new home. but i was able to lure him out with a jingly ball attached to a string. during the next few years that had passed, it became comfortable with me, and he followed me everywhere. he slept in my bed every night, and patted my face with his paw every morning, letting me know he wanted his breakfast, the usual tap water from the bathroom sink and generic carbohydrate-filled pellets shaped in x's and o's. but he never complained.

one day, a girl from my church catnapped cicero and locked him up in a closet room in the church across the street. he was missing for over a month. we all thought he ran out and got run over by a car or something. despite having slept alone with no paw alarm clock, i didn't really care. i felt nothing. five weeks later, my dad heard him meowing in the closet. he brought it back home, completely emaciated and disoriented. we didn't think he was going to make it. we gave it a bowl of water, which he struggled to drink. he looked like one of those thermodynamically powered dunking birds. and we watched him intently in the same way, in a hypnotic trance, only it wasn't as enjoyable to watch. the part of the story my mother used to make such a big deal about was, after he was done drinking, he used what little energy he had left from the ordeal and got up on his shaky legs, and began to walk. or he tried. he would take one step, then his head would lean way, then jerk the other way, and he'd fall down. after repeating this process several more times, my mom realized that he was trying to get to my room. after giving him a bath, he chilled in my room the next few days, making the occassional trip to the bathroom for a bath due to uncontrollable diarrhea. he was still bobbing his head, and we didn't think he was going to make it. but after a few days, he began to eat soft tuna pellets. it was one or two at first, later a few more, and eventually he ate them by the handful. after about a week, he was showing signs of improvement. and he began to eat ravenously. every morning after his recovery, he'd bite my arm or leg, whichever was exposed from my blanket. sometimes i would hit him. one time, i kicked him off the bed. flat out kicked him. he meowed back angrily. sometimes i'd feel guilty afterwards, so i'd get up grudgingly and give him what he wanted. his x's and o's.

after i left for college six years later, he stayed with my parents. they decided to make him an outside cat. my mother didn't like having cat fur on the clothes she would wear out in public, and some guests have cat allergies, she'd claim. but he didn't seem to mind, except on the occasions i would come home and see him sitting outside the backyard door, peering into the house through the glass. i used to open the door and stick my arm out to pet him, but my mom would yell at me to close the door and remind me, if it was during the winter, how expensive heating is, and, if it was during the summer, how expensive air conditioning is. not to mention the mosquitos. so i'd close the door, and wash my hands clean. on cold winter nights, i'd see him sitting at the backyard door, pawing at the glass. sometimes, he would meow out. but i could hear nothing. my mother would just close the curtains, and she'd make a mumbled comment about the cold coming off the glass. but she was just covering up what we couldn't bear to see.

he died after a run of twelve years. some nights when i drink and chain-smoke alone, i think about him. and i wonder what exactly i did to that girl that made her lock my cat up in a closet in a church across the street. "no, the cat got in there himself. who would do such a thing?" my parents would say. but i knew better. i knew too much. but i just didn't know enough. some days, during the warmth of spring, i would watch my cat sitting out on the grass. he'd be looking off into the distance, staring. i'd sit there and wonder what exactly was going through his mind. and i'd wonder if he ever had a joy for good food, or if he ever felt the pain of a broken heart. i'd wonder if he ever knew about how skinny he was when he was on the brink of starvation, or how grotesquely obese he became when he ate himself to death. i wonder if it was anyway possible he knew his problems, his addiction, and ultimately his early death wasn't his fault but someone else's, because of something i did that i couldn't fix, and didn't have a chance or know how to fix. when my cat died, my dad sent me a brief little email. "i came back from vacation. cat is dead, sorry." i found out later the cat died outside the backyard door, not sitting, but lying, under the heat of a scorching summer sun. i think about my old friend every now and again, on lonely drunken nights when i just lie down and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep.

as the late Cicero once said, "a friend is, as it were, a second self."

3/8/2009 4:43:45 AM

paerabol
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jesus christ that about made me cry you asshole fuck you

3/8/2009 4:59:39 AM

puppy
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^^ awww

3/8/2009 8:54:46 AM

OopsPowSrprs
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3/8/2009 9:45:55 AM

jetskipro
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i tried to avoid hitting a possum by driving over it so that it was in the center of my truck. it stood up at the last second and took a rear differential to the face.

3/8/2009 10:02:04 AM

timmy
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^^^^^Holy crap dude. That better be a real story...otherwise its a shitty way to mess with people's emotions. I got all goosebumpy and I dont even like cats.

3/8/2009 12:56:06 PM

Ronny
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yo holmes to Bel Air!

3/8/2009 1:09:09 PM

Nitrocloud
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7^ (7-up, hah) You should write a short novel.

3/8/2009 1:15:26 PM

Skack
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When I was very young my mom adopted two parakeets from a lady at work who didn't want them anymore. They were not socialized with humans, so they weren't the type of animal that you could interact with very much. If you tried to touch them they'd just bite you. Occasionally we would let them "fly" in a closed room, but getting them back in the cage was quite a pain. I say "fly" in quotations because their wings were clipped. Needless to say, they weren't the most loved pets. They didn't even have names that I can remember. They were more like a piece of dynamic art than members of the family. They were pretty, they were colorful, but unlike other art they moved around their quarters and made noises to grab your attention.

I realize now how wrong it was to keep two birds in a 3x4 cage 99% of their lives, but hindsight is 20/20. At three years old those things aren't so obvious. In any case, they probably had a better home with us than a lot of people. They received fresh food and water daily and their cage was cleaned often.

At some point the inevitable happened. One of the birds died. I was probably five or six at the time. My mom put it in a zip lock bag and we buried it behind the garage. It wasn't a big deal and nobody cried. No new lessons about death were learned as we had already learned them from the multitude of goldfish that had already died in our possession.

A few weeks after the parakeet died I got the idea to dig it up and look at it. It hadn't changed much, being encased in a zip lock coffin. After the viewing I put the bird back in it's resting place and covered it back up. It wasn't nearly as interesting as I had hoped.

It was only a matter of time before the second exhuming happened. Two of my friends were at the house and we were playing in the back yard. Somewhere between the scooter races and the monkey bars I told them I knew where a dead bird was if they wanted to see it. Of course the other two boys wanted to see what it looked like, so I grabbed a shovel and started digging.

I guess my mom was watching us play from the kitchen window because it didn't take long before she appeared behind the garage. I had just pulled the bird out and hadn't even had a good change to look at it when she started yelling at me. People didn't do time out in 1983, so a token ass whooping was in order as soon as I reburied the bird.

I never really understood why my mom was so pissed. I realize now that she probably thought she was warding off a future as an animal torturing serial killer. Maybe it worked and she saved me from destroying the family name, but I have a feeling she was just punishing me for doing what kids do; being curious. I never dug up another pet again so I guess she made her point.

3/8/2009 1:25:25 PM

GenghisJohn
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clearly, all of Apocalypse's stories aren't true

but that doesn't mean that we can't appreciate them

3/8/2009 2:50:31 PM

roddy
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nice cut and paste jobs...

3/8/2009 2:56:09 PM

Cansnuts
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well the animal didn't die.... but every time i think of the story it seems a little surreal & crazy.

when i was a sophomore in college i lived in a dorm. i was friends with this couple who had a 4 bedroom apt all to themselves in this complex that used to always have parties. well, they loved me, so i would go over there, get drunk, head to a party, come back to their place and crash.

well, i knew this guy who was having a party and had planned to go back to their place that night. the guy who lived there was so incredibly smashed that night, to the point where busting beer bottles over his own head seemed like a good idea... so i tell his fiance what apt i was going to.

i'm at the party for a bit and his fiance comes up in her pjs and all. these people have these fat furry animal in a large cage against the wall with no top. i forget what kind of animal it was, but i' pretty sure it was illegal... it looked like a fatter version of a prarie dog, same color, sat on his hind legs.... anyways, she's like "awh how cute" and sticks her hand in the cage. the animal bites her on the inside of her wrist, my friend helps her clean the bite, apologizes for his friend's animal.

well i'm standing there and all of a sudden someone comes up from behind me and hugs me. i turn around and its her fiance and he's all "cansnuts, I want to see the thing that bit fallon" and i'm like, "uh it's over there"..

well he also sticks his hand in the cage... and this time the thing LATCHES ON. He is swinging his arm up and down and finally the thing flys across the room, hits the wall, slides down, and takes off running... in a room of about 20 people, with the dor open, and about 20+ more outside. they have deer heads and shit out their wall so he starts going off about how they hunt elk and deer for sport and i'm just like oh shit b/c he's my friend.

i went to their apartment that night and the door was locked. they had went to the emergency room... not sure but i believe they animal was taken away from the other guy.

3/8/2009 4:16:30 PM

Big Business
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I hit a bird driving like 30 minutes ago

I'm Big Business and i approved this message.

3/8/2009 4:21:55 PM

Apocalypse
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heh, thx for all the responses. i was actually expecting a 'you need to get laid' response. but maybe my story was a little 'scary.' it's a true story, but some parts might be slightly skewed. the cat was loved, and extremely well fed. and he did enjoy the outdoors more than indoors, when the weather wasn't extreme.

it was just a story i needed to write. i'm actually a terrible writer, so the story is actually pretty sloppy with poor structure, despite having spent two hours on it. i don't have an amazing way with words, just a personal perspective on various things. i usually play and listen to music as a channel, but i thought i'd try writing something. david sedaris probably inspired its creation, since i've recently been reading some of his stories every now and then.

i enjoyed the other stories, so thx for that. i have a dead bird story as well. but for now, to bel-air

3/9/2009 4:00:20 AM

wawebste
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Dead Animal Story:

Ok, when i was like 8-10 and got my first personal pet it was a hamster. I had one for a while and it eventually died. It was a good hamster that played and scampered around its semi-clear plastic tube to its hearts content. Well after that one died, we got a new one of course. This little fucker was an ass. You couldn't pick him up without him trying to bite you. I would try and get him out to run around but he would always try to escape my enclosures. I had the standard plastic cage with a few tubular adventures on the sides. This mother fucker ate the the plastic tubes. We taped it up to keep him in, but one day....he was gone ........never to be seen again....

Until, atleast a year later we had to call in an air-conditioner expert because several of the vents aren't receiving air. Come to find out, the damn hamster found its way to a vent and decided it would be a great place to die. I remember being adamant about the fact that he was still alive and free and then seeing the 'body' and being all

3/9/2009 4:08:33 AM

occamsrezr
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What's the difference between a personal pet and an non-personal pet?

3/9/2009 4:50:03 AM

wawebste
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personal means we were cool...ie not a family pet....he was specifically mine

3/9/2009 4:52:15 AM

Skack
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One of my friends had a vicious hamster. She was working at a pet store and they got this hamster that tried to bite anyone who touched it. They couldn't sell it, so the owner said she could have it if she wanted it. After a while she got tired of it and took it back to the store. They put it in with the other hamsters and left for the day. They opened the store the following day to find a massacre. Nine hamsters had been murdered sometime in the night. Others had been mauled and would have to be put down. It was a disaster.

Knowing the hamster had to be put down, she brought it to a friend who owned an 8' red tail boa constrictor. Never have I wished I owned a video camera like the day they introduced this hamster to the boa constrictor.

Before I get started on what happened to the hamster, let me tell you a little about this snake. It was not a pleasant pet. It was prone to violent mood swings. It stared at the dogs and you could almost see it salivating. This was the snake that, when his owner tried to take him out of the cage and hold him, bit his owner on the face. The snake's bottom teeth went in below the man's chin while top teeth sunk into his forehead. It was quite a sight. The owner was yelling for help. One of his cries was "HELP ME GET THIS THING BACK IN THE CAGE" to which we all just pranced around pretending we were going to try to help. Let's face it, we didn't take the snake out. We didn't own the snake, and the snake wasn't attacking any of us. We didn't really have a stake in this fight.

Anyway, the time comes for this hamster to meet his maker. He was dropped in the snake's enclosure and that's when things get interesting. The hamster takes one look at the snake and runs full speed across the enclosure in full attack mode. The snake, not detecting the threat just lays there. Big mistake. The hamster latches onto the snakes neck just about an inch or two behind the snakes head. The snake thrashes wildly slinging the hamster away. As soon as the hamster hits the ground the snake attacks with his teeth, biting the hamster in the middle of his body. The snake slings the hamster which hits the glass and drops into the water bowl. Bright red emanates in the water around the hamster's body and the hamster is dead. It was an epic battle and the hamster fought hard, but in the end the snake won.

3/9/2009 12:03:36 PM

Arab13
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YOU CAME INTO MY YARD AND KICK MY DOG!

3/9/2009 1:47:37 PM

joe_schmoe
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it was after the cat story that I decided I love you, Apocalypse

be my boo.

3/9/2009 2:08:17 PM

dagreenone
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^^^ Great story, 10/10, would read again.

3/9/2009 2:11:30 PM

dweedle
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that was awesome, that story

3/9/2009 2:14:16 PM

NCJockGirl
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reason why we dont feed our snakes live prey

3/9/2009 3:31:25 PM

Apocalypse
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[probably my last long short story]

"one for the birds...."

it was a sunday. i was only four at the time, much too young to fully understand what happened. or maybe i did, but just didn't feel it was of any significance to me. it was some ten years later when i resurrected the epitaphless memory, after segues of seemingly random tangents in my family's typical dinner conversation. the story was told by my mother. why she told it still remains unclear to me. maybe it served as some sort of sacred confession that would absolve her, set her free. or maybe she was, with good intentions, trying to save me. to remind me of hope, and teach me to fly.

it was a sunday, a cold winter morning. i was only four at the time. a few days prior, my brother had brought home a few chicks from school. chicks, as in baby chickens. not to be confused with female dogs. that's a completely different class. but the same phylum. remember that from high school biology class? yeah, me neither. i googled it. but i do remember my biology teacher, young guy out of college, cool as hell, but tough as balls. i remember one school night, my friend and i walked downtown to the parking lot of a liquor store, hoping to find someone who would get some alcohol for us. two guys drove up and walked towards the store. my friend, money in hand, asked "hey can you" -- "no" was the telepathic reply. one of the guys glanced at me, then turned away. he shook his head. i felt like i knew him from someplace, but just couldn't remember where. as they walked out with their brown paper bags, the guy says to me, nonchalantly, "go home and finish your biology homework." my friend asks me as they pull out, "do you know that guy?" i shook my head. knowing i'd have to face the guy in biology class the following day, i convinced my friend no, i didn't know him. and at the end of the night when i was home, i had already forgotten. i'm guessing my biology teacher did the same. but anyway, i digress. i tend to wander off, and forget.

it was a sunday, a cold winter morning, before leaving for church. i was only four at the time. a few days prior, my brother brought home some chicks from school on the last day before christmas break (as it was then called.) his sixth grade class had incubated eggs as a fun little observational study, and he volunteered to adopt the new fuzzy hatchlings. my mother noted in a complaining tone, how they constantly peeped. well, that's what chicks do, they peep. but it annoyed her a great deal. i remember the sight of the chicks. they were kept in a little pen with a few layers of newspaper underneath, although i don't recall what the surrounding fence was made of. something transparent, or maybe it was opaque. but that little detail doesn't really matter. what matters is, it kept the young birds restrained. but not silent. that sunday, before leaving for church, my mother worried that the chicks might freeze. and it was silly to leave the heat on for something unimportant like little birds. but my mother did not want them to freeze to death, so she put a large glass bowl over them, and a thick blanket on top to keep them warm. a few hours later, after god had imparted us with his divine message via a personified medium, we were home. i remember being told initially that the baby birds were just sleeping. i nudged them around, gently at first, then gradually with more force. i intuitively knew something didn't make sense. i asked when they would wake up. my mother then explained the concept of life and death to me. they weren't here anymore, i was told, which didn't make much sense to me either. they were there, right in front me, their lifeless bodies lying on the black-and-white of the past, meaningless history already forgotten. i asked where did they go. i was then told about the soul, how everyone has one, and about how they go up to heaven after we die. this was a big step up for a four year old, who spent most sundays coloring pictures of scenes from the bible, always making sure to color in the cloak of jesus with a white crayon, an effort proven to be spent in vain. an invisible crayon would have achieved the same results. i asked again, how it was possible that the birds could be in heaven and in front of me simultaneously. where did they go? are they sleeping? when will they wake up? peep? peep? peep? peep? my mother lost it, completely. "JUST SHUT...UP!" and... i did.

after the story, i saw my mother wipe away tears. her telling of the story was just a short paragraph, and excluded her oppressive outburst. it was pathetic to see her this way. i didn't understand it at the time. i thought, they're just birds. and not just birds, baby chickens. stupid birds that can never fly. afterwards, she turned to me and asked, "...do you remember?" initially, i wanted to say i did. but there was something restraining me, something I couldn't see at the time, only feel. i wanted to say something, but.... i shook my head. "no, I guess not," she said. "you were too young to remember, too young to understand." i was only four at the time.

3/25/2009 3:50:26 AM

wolfpackgrrr
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Your mom kind of sounds like a bitch.

3/25/2009 7:58:57 AM

Apocalypse
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Three Turtle Stories

1) when i was 5, my family and i visited relatives in their high-rise apartment in a major city. my cousins were a few years older than me. they had a pet turtle, which they let roam around the apartment. being the curious boy that i was, when nobody was looking, i dropped the turtle off the balcony, about 20 floors up. my cousin later noticed it was missing, and everyone began to look for it in every corner and crevice. some time later, they gave up on the search, and my cousin cried. my aunt ran out for an errand, and came back with a turtle, claiming it was the same turtle. i wasn't allowed near it this time.

2) my mother was taking a stroll in a state park and came across a small turtle. its shell was about the size of a quarter. she gave it to me as a pet (during the time my cat was missing.) i kept it in a 10 gallon tank. i fed it ants i would catch outside, and sometimes i'd dig up worms, chop them into little pieces, and remove the poop and guts. i would put fresh leaves and grass in the tank, to simulate what i considered to be the idyllic turtle environment. but the thing that was missing was water. so i propped the tank up on one end with a book, and filled the other end with crystal clean water. he seemed to be doing well. but he died a few days later (in retrospect, it was prbly the chlorine.) but at the time, i thought he might have drowned himself. i felt bad. i did what i could, but it wasn't enough. i guess i learned that sometimes, people do what they can, but after that, they just gotta let go....

3) in my early teens, my grandfather caught a turtle while at a local lake. he brought it back home. with a knife, he detached it from its shell, while it was still alive. not to make soup, but just because he wanted to collect the shells, he said. he was breathing hard, but his face was relatively expressionless. i'm not sure what my face looked like, but the turtle... squirming and writhing in what i imagined to be incredible pain. but, it was a turtle, so i had no real way of knowing the severity of the pain it was experiencing. my grandfather was a retired bishop. he spent most of his life working to help people. but when he retired, he had no idea how to spend all his free time. he died some years later. during the last few years of his life, we all noticed his unusual behavior. and during his last few months, we learned he had alzheimer's.

i suppose, in a way, im a turtle



[Edited on May 17, 2009 at 5:38 AM. Reason : ~The End~]

5/17/2009 5:34:32 AM

j_sun
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^whoa, that last one put some pretty creepy images in my head. what's a turtle look like without it's shell anyway?

5/17/2009 6:52:00 AM

JayMCnasty
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Quote :
"Mayhorn reported 28 ferrets KIA in Mai Chau... atleast twice as many wounded. Damn Gooks ambushed 'em from the rice fields.

I know I said that just Mayhorn lost his ferrets... but our entire squad felt the loss."


lolwtf

5/17/2009 10:04:37 AM

umop-apisdn
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^^a chunk of meat.

^^^don't know how exactly you "detach" a turtle from its shell, unless he essentially decapitated the little thing. Also, there isn't enough chlorine in tap water to kill turtles. Chances are it was a box turtle, and it did drown after all. Young box turtles aren't born with the hinges that allow them to close up, and they may look to the average person like any normal aquatic turtle.

5/17/2009 1:31:23 PM

Wraith
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5/17/2009 6:19:52 PM

j_sun
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pics or it didn't happen

5/17/2009 6:34:23 PM

Tiberius
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I used to have a green snake, and my mom got too lazy to buy it crickets. After starving it for several months (it takes a fucking long time to starve a snake, if you're not aware) she started to feel bad and decided to let it go when she came home for lunch one day. It didn't move from where she left it and when I came home from school I found my pet snake on the porch with ants crawling out of its mouth. Epic!1

5/17/2009 7:30:39 PM

Apocalypse
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poor snake

i understand the fascination people have with animals, but i personally would never keep an animal confined in a cage or tank (besides fish.) birds, snakes, rabbits... it's kinda depressing to me. but, well, so are a lot of other things.

5/18/2009 5:58:20 AM

Tiberius
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Snakes don't seem to do a whole lot of thinkin'. They pretty much respond to warmth by moving towards it, and if it will fit in their mouth, eating it. They'll eat once every couple weeks to months depending on the breed and their temperment, so even that's kind of a rarity. Otherwise, they move a few times a day to regulate body temperature and spend a large portion of their time hiding in the smallest, darkest part of the enclosure they can find. I don't think they notice or care when they're kept in an enclosure

[Edited on May 18, 2009 at 6:23 AM. Reason : But it is pretty sick to deprive them of food. I'm still kind of pissed at my mom about that ]

5/18/2009 6:18:01 AM

NeuseRvrRat
hello Mr. NSA!
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when i was about 12 or 13 we had a cat that somehow ended up w/ her back half paralyzed. she couldn't move her back legs or anything. she'd try to pull herself around w/ her front paws. it was pitiful. euthanization by a vet has never been in my family's list of options, so my grandaddy "took care of her" aka he shot her in the head w/ a .22 rifle. painless, no big deal as far as i'm concerned.

however, he didn't bury her. he just threw her in a ditch at the back corner of a field. i found her when i was walking along the ditchbank shooting birds and muskrats and shit w/ my pellet gun.

[Edited on June 25, 2009 at 11:29 AM. Reason : fff]

6/25/2009 11:29:02 AM

quagmire02
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i worked at a vet during high school and my first two years of undergrad...one of the techs came in crying one morning because she couldn't find her cat

she went home at lunch to pull the laundry out of the dryer and sure enough, her cat was in the dryer...after the cycle had run...dead, obviously

she was out of work for a week

6/25/2009 2:06:12 PM

NeuseRvrRat
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6/25/2009 2:06:47 PM

Wolfmarsh
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I had a friend that accidentally had his cat go through the dryer. Its a sad thing, but the way he told the story, you couldnt help but laugh. He described the dryer as looking like a "cotton candy machine" when he opened it.

6/25/2009 2:17:57 PM

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