Hatton time … but wait, you said, it’s not Hatton time. Hatton time was last week and we are unsure if we can handle this much greatness.
Well, suck it up, because tomorrow’s my birthday and I’m heisting the blog this week. Why? You see, your friendly neighborhood Hatton has a certain ailment that has affected him off and on since he was a child, and that is the curse of needing to write imaginary things down. Legally, I believe it is called ‘writing’. That said, when I’m in a writing rut, I have a secret that I’m going to share with you today. That is, I have a Reddit account… I know, scandalous.
That account writes short horror stories out of nowhere – which is why, it’s called SurpriseHorrorStory
So for my birthday, here’s a gift of some creepiness from posts I’ve done in the past.
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Mum and Papa were awoken before the sun lit their bedroom by Billy crashing into their bedroom, “THANK YOU! OH THANK YOU SO MUCH!”
Parents expected to wake up early on Christmas morning, but not so urgently. The pair exchanged glances with each other, and then to their closed closet doors. Billy’s new bike, his big gift this year, was tucked away in their closet. The rest of his gifts were wrapped, so what was he so excited about?
“He is adorable and I love him! He hasn’t told me his name yet, but he enjoyed the rest of Santa’s cookies.” The boy was vibrating with joy.
“Son? ..What are you talking about?” Papa asked, sliding out of bed and into his slippers. He then heard the crash of something downstairs. Glass shattering. The cat screaming angrily.
Billy, oblivious to the noise, said, ‘My Furby, Papa. He’s adorable!” The stairs creaked. “Oh! He’s coming up the stairs! I didn’t know they could do that!”
(Source)
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“Look, I don’t know which one of you is doing it, but it’s starting to freak me out.”
My coworkers all shared confused glances as I sat down with my lunch. It wasn’t surprising, only one of them was likely guilty.
“The sign.. the googly eyes sign?” I asked, imploring one of them to reveal themselves, but nobody started giggling or raising their hand.
I sighed. In the ideal version of this conversation in my head, one of them admitted it was them and they could explain it to the group. With nobody owning up, I was the one that would have to tell the story and be the source of the laughter.
“Someone keeps screwing with the earthquake sign.. the stupid one with the googly eyes so that the eyes are always staring at my desk.” And the laughter came. It was contained as each of them realized I was taking this seriously, but it was most certainly going to come out more explosively when I wasn’t around.
With nobody owning up, I finished my lunch without much more discussion about it and went back to my desk, watching as the eyes followed me from the hallway to my seat.
Did they look angrier today?
(Source)
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♫ Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Following new friends, while remaining hidden
Hiding my pistol inside of my sling
These are a few of my favorite things.
Starting off easy, then getting quite brutal,
using a knife so much that it gets too dull
Hearing the new words that my new friend sings
These are a few of my favorite things ♫
(Source)
