Ever since I was 12 or 13, there was this place I thought I wanted to go. All my friends knew about it, but it was always shrouded in mystery. I would look at the area around it often, but was never brave enough to venture all the way. I worried about going there alone, but at the same time thought it would be weirder if I took a friend with me.
As time went on, I did not think about this place as much. It became less and less appealing, showing signs of overgrowth, neglect, and perhaps abuse. Around the campfire at night, my friends and I would invent stories about this place, always embellished, as we knew none of us were ever brave enough to go there. In some ways this place was wide open, but we knew that if any of us ever went there, it could
be the end of us. Once in a while, on a dare, one of us would get close to this cursed place, only to be turned away by the horrific smell, and the tangle that guarded it.
My friends and I, as we went through High School, came up with a very elaborate game. We had an entire list of different activities, challenges, and dares, each worth a different point value. For example, pantsing a new kid on his first day of school was worth 50 points. Putting a "Kick Me" sticky note on the back of Mrs. Clint, the hot but bitchy geography teacher, was worth 20 points. You get the idea.
All in all, there were around 120 different things on this list. We always planned a summer adventure, and it was decided that the winner's trip would be totally paid for by the losers. This would include, gas, plane ticket if necessary, hotels, campgrounds, food, entry fees, etc, to whatever we ended up doing.
You've probably guessed it - the mystery, haunted place from our childhoods was worth the most points - an even 350. This was more than double anything else on the list, and it was put there as basically a joke, as we never thought any of us would actually go there. This place, while not far away or terribly hard to get to, was
just the most disgusting, haunted, scary place around. Everyone knew it, and gave it a wide berth. No one really even talked about it any more.
Well, summer was getting near, and I was losing. I had been fired from my part-time job because I got stupid and lit up at work. My friends and I had hatched an epic plan to drive from our homes in Vermont to Mt. Hood, hitting up some summer skiing. Now that we had our licenses, we were going to take an epic road trip. My friend Trevor's dad had an old van that we had repurposes for this trip, and stoke was high. I had a little problem - I couldn't afford the trip and I desperately wanted to go. I didn't tell my friends I was having money problems, and knew that I needed to do something. There was really only one thing I could do.
As with all growing up stories, this one was a true end to my childhood. That place, that terrible, dark, disgusting place, was my ticket to an awesome summer, the respect of my friends, and quite possibly legendary status. I knew what I needed to do. My first stop was to my friend Steve's house. His older brother was our ticket to booze, and he was always happy to hook us up for a few bucks in his own wallet. I talked to him, and he offered to get me the usual Keystone, Miller, or if I was feeling wealthy, Yuengling. I said no, this time was special. I wanted real booze. When I invest, I invest big, and I knew that I was investing in my entire summer, perhaps the last summer with my friends, and of my childhood. I gave him a C note and instructed him to get me a bottle of Glenlivet 12 year old single
malt. He started to question me, but then realized that this was good for a tidy $15 personal profit for himself. He did as I asked.
I took my Glenlivet, easily the finest bottle I had ever owned, and just stared at it for well over an hour. Finally, later that night, probably around 11:00, I took my bottle (now partly empty) and did what had to be done. All my friends were hanging out at Martin's house. I wasn't. I put on my brave face, my lucky hoodie, and a pair of boots. I was scared, I'll admit it. I drove where I needed to, gave myself a pep-talk, then got down to business.
To get to this place, now more disgusting, putrid, and tangled than ever before, I had to negotiate a tough path. With some smooth work, aided by most of the remainder of my Glenlivet 12, I got myself to the entrance. Oh my god. The bush here was thick. Additionally, everything was sticky. It reminded me of the time back in 4th grade that I took the top off a bottle of Elmer's Glue and poured the bottle in Brad's hair. Poor Brad...before the teacher could help him, the glue solidified a bit, making his hair sticky, crystalized, and matted.
Anyway, the entrance to the horrific place, the place worth 350 points, that my summer was riding on... I tried to hold my nose and charge in fast, but that wasn't working. I couldn't get through the tangled mat of bush. It was everywhere. I didn't know what to do. About the time I was ready to give up and run away screaming, it grabbed me and thrust me in. Holy mother of God. Mother of Satan. Mother of Allah. It was literally the worst experience of my entire young life.
I couldn't escape from the powerful hold. The bush was cutting into me, the sticky crust was sharp against my body, and my innocence was being robbed. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. I felt myself being violated, like I had accidentally fallen down on a stick. Something was penetrating me, up my ass. I didn't think my pants were down far enough that this was possible, but I was wrong. I clearly had not taken adequate precautions. With a horrible, twisting feeling, my butt was no longer virgin. It felt like the Devil's hand itself, with a fingernail reminiscent of a railroad spike. I screamed, moaned, whimpered, and came. At once, I was released from its horrible grip. I just prayed no long-term damage was done. After all, after years and years of neglect, it probably would not take much for jibbpeter's mom to get pregnant. Her vagina was probably gulping in my young sperm, eager to give jibbpeter a baby brother or sister. I didn't know if this was possible, due to the acidic stench, horribly unsanitary conditions, and ingrown hairs. Still, I was terrified.
In the end I went home, no longer a child. I knew that I had earned those 350 points. More than earned them. Still, after taking half a dozen showers that night and scrubbing my butt out with the coarsest sponge I could find, I knew that if I told my friends of my escapade, and claimed my points, then I would have to live with them knowing exactly what had transpired. They would demand details. Horrible, evil details, forever seared into my mind. Was it worth it? I decided not. Instead I stayed at home all summer while my friends raged out West. I got a new job at a country club, and managed to convert one of the mower houses into a smokeshack. We all make terrible decisions, even with the best of intentions. This one was terrible enough to last me for a lifetime.
