GRL Victims Report

[Lopaka]

I know the first one landed...here is were I would like the GRL Victims Report to be....



Enjoy!

[TheVitaleMob]

It was a sleepless night last spring when the Grim Reaper came to me in my dreams. I seemed to hear a voice similar to Adam Corolla's come to me from afar. He said, "I have come to tell you about a great evil that is abroad in the world. His name is Lopaka, and every now and then he will send bombs in the mail to unsuspecting victims under the guise of cigar trades and passes. Many men are tricked into lighting the bombs he sends them becuase they look and feel like cigars. He even puts a wrapper leaf and a real cigar band on them. I give you this warning so that you may not see me again." I tried to follow him, but I was dreaming during a sleepless night. There wasn't much I could do. I sat down to reflect on his words.

Today, I got a large box with 5 cigars in it. The return address was from who? Lopaka. . . . . . . . . . . . . Should I open it? . . . . . . . . Should I smoke the cigars?. . . . . . . . . . Should I tempt fate?

I think I will. Tonight as a matter of fact.

Farewell my friends, If you see me in the morning, please bury me somewhere nice.

[hex1848]

So there I was, minding my own damn business ready to sit down at my desk to start my afternoon project on Monday and up pops this random package on my desk.

In the resulting frenzy, I now realize that I ditched the box away without reading the label… the note in the box didn’t mention anything special, so I totally cluster #*$& the point of this…

The other grim reaper that visited me this week was the emergency migration of my company’s middle tier servers from NT 4.0 to Windows 2003 SP1 (don’t ask why it was still NT, not my call at all) . If anyone has ever attempted this, I’m sure you understand….

This hot potato is off in the morning..

[grand cru no 2]

Suddenly I awake out of a deep sleep with an urge I can no longer fight. I have to piss like a Spanish race horse! I turn and glance at the clock. 2:47 AM. Groggily I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I give a bit of a stretch trying to wake myself enough to walk. I manage to bring myself to my feet and slowly make my way to the bathroom.

The room is black like the ocean floor. I feel my way along the walls and successfully navigate my way to smooth linoleum floor of the bathroom. I pull the door shut behind me and flick the light switch. The sight of the toilet is like salvation. I lift the seat and feel that sweet release that is like no other. A quick flush and flick of the switch and I am on my journey back to the security of my pillow. Slowly I slide through the room, being careful not to stub my toe. I'm getting closer. It won't be long now. I'll be back in my dream. Cuban cigars, Cuban rum, and Cuban women!

I feel breeze sweep by. I hear the curtain flutter. Ahh, nice and cool out tonight. Wait. I didn't leave the window open. Maybe she did. No matter, feels good. I am back underway. Huh? What have I bumped into? I must have gotten turned around when I was startled by the window. I reach out to feel the obstruction. Cold. Hard. A pole? I run my hand up the object. A sickle?! Alarmed I step back, stumble over my feet and *smack* slam into the floor. I hear a whisper. "It is your time. There is nothing you can do." Then something swiftly slices the air in front of me. There is a thud on the floor in front of me and in a brief moment, all is calm.

I quickly locate the lamp and switch it on. There is a package on the floor where I had fallen. Cautiously I approach. By all judgments it is an ordinary package. Nothing seems sinister about it. I gently lift it from the floor, weighing it. Should I open it? What did he mean by "It is your time."? I have to open it. I must know what all this is about. I put the package on the night stand and retrieve a sharp knife from the kitchen. I return to the package. I take a couple of deep breaths to relax myself. Ok, now I'm ready. I slide the knife along the tape at the seals. With the lightest touch, I tear off the opening strip. I lift the flap and......










































































.......it all goes a bit groggy after that actually.

[nhcigarfan]

As I left the office last night the intermixed snow and sleeting rain had begun to fall. The pavement reflected light with a dull shine like that of a glistening, rain soaked, tombstone. As I opened the car door I felt a chill come over me. A chill I had not felt before. A weight fell upon me. It was hard to breath. I could sense his presence, but who was he?
I travel the back roads from my office to my home, passing from town to town, as I slowing crested the small hill that boarders the towns of Hampton and Rye I notice an ominous darkness ahead. The houses were dark, the streets empty. As I crept forward it seemed the night closed in around me. The darkness was heavy, and carried with it a foreboding message, a message of sorrow and despair. As I arrived at my home I noticed but one candle in the window. I was surprised still to see my house dark, knowing all along the town was black. As I made my way to my door I felt a rush, not of excitement but rather as if being chased, chased by a force unseen. I throw open the door and slammed it behind me. The rush of air extinguished the light. As I search for the matches the feeling returned, I was being watched. I fumbled with the matches, dropping a few, and finally I re-light the candle. I slowly turned around to see my wife and small child sitting silently on the sofa, before them a package. A package which marked my doom.

I had been stricken, the reaper was upon me.

My head spun, I sat silent. Later I fell into an uneasy slumber. When I awoke this morning it seemed I was in a fog, seeing through another’s eyes. I performed my morning routine as usual. Still, I felt off.

I remember getting into the car, but nothing else. I briefly awoke from this dream, but I was not in the car, rather standing in the hockey store, staring at the plain, bone-white goalie masks. I was taken back, why was I here? I stumbled from the store, dripping in sweat. I’m confused, lost, what is going on here. Darkness.

Again I awake, now I am in Home Depot, in lawn and garden. The axes, chain saws and machetes, so clean, so pure, so right.

Now I understand.

Now I know what to do.

I will be calling on one of you.

[ggiese]

Each day for nearly the last week I've been sensing a strange feeling... Some force, or some thing, is trying to draw me to the office I rarely visit these days... Things are slow here in the winter, so not much need to go there... But - why do I feel this tremendous urge to go there?

Today was a happy sunny day - a bit on the chilly side. Things are pretty cold here right now, but you can sense spring is on the way... I'm happily driving along, but I still have the strange desire to visit the office. I think - hey, what the hell. I'll check my voicemails - see if everything is okay. Why not - I got time to kill...

So I pull up to the building I immediately notice there isn't a thing moving for blocks around the building. No cars, no people, no animals. I think - that's nothing unusual - heck, it's Saturday!!! I should have known better...

I turn the key in the lock to unlock the door. Strange, I have to struggle with the lock a bit. It's as if the lock is trying to stop me from entering. I enter the alarm code and the buttons seem to be more difficult to push than normal... Now I'm gripped with a feeling coming over me that I cannot describe. There is no turning back - I must visit the office...

I round the corner and look into the office - there is it. But what is it? It looks like an ordinary USPS Priority Mail package, innocently covered by the most recent Cigars International catalog. Clearly, the catalog was placed there to allay any fears I had...

As I get closer to the package there is a strange aura filling the room. Is it the fluorescent lights playing tricks? Well, it is a bit chilly in the room and the lights are flickering a bit while they try to warm up. I reach for the package and as I do so - I realize something... The room is never this cold!!! Maybe the thermostat.....

I wake up in a different place.... Surrounded by VERY nice cigars and single malt scotch... Is this heaven??? It can't be... I'm still here!!! NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO.....

Now a strong feeling is gripping me that MAYBE I need to take someone else out...


bbwwwwwaaaaahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

[cinda]

Suddenly I awake out of a deep sleep with an urge I can no longer fight. I have to piss like a Spanish race horse! I turn and glance at the clock. 2:47 AM. Groggily I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I give a bit of a stretch trying to wake myself enough to walk. I manage to bring myself to my feet and slowly make my way to the bathroom.

The room is black like the ocean floor. I feel my way along the walls and successfully navigate my way to smooth linoleum floor of the bathroom. I pull the door shut behind me and flick the light switch. The sight of the toilet is like salvation. I lift the seat and feel that sweet release that is like no other. A quick flush and flick of the switch and I am on my journey back to the security of my pillow. Slowly I slide through the room, being careful not to stub my toe. I'm getting closer. It won't be long now. I'll be back in my dream. Cuban cigars, Cuban rum, and Cuban women!

I feel breeze sweep by. I hear the curtain flutter. Ahh, nice and cool out tonight. Wait. I didn't leave the window open. Maybe she did. No matter, feels good. I am back underway. Huh? What have I bumped into? I must have gotten turned around when I was startled by the window. I reach out to feel the obstruction. Cold. Hard. A pole? I run my hand up the object. A sickle?! Alarmed I step back, stumble over my feet and *smack* slam into the floor. I hear a whisper. "It is your time. There is nothing you can do." Then something swiftly slices the air in front of me. There is a thud on the floor in front of me and in a brief moment, all is calm.

I quickly locate the lamp and switch it on. There is a package on the floor where I had fallen. Cautiously I approach. By all judgments it is an ordinary package. Nothing seems sinister about it. I gently lift it from the floor, weighing it. Should I open it? What did he mean by "It is your time."? I have to open it. I must know what all this is about. I put the package on the night stand and retrieve a sharp knife from the kitchen. I return to the package. I take a couple of deep breaths to relax myself. Ok, now I'm ready. I slide the knife along the tape at the seals. With the lightest touch, I tear off the opening strip. I lift the flap and......










































































.......it all goes a bit groggy after that actually.

I noticed you did not wash your hands........

[Eshaw99]

As I arrived home from work this evening, I was met at the door by a shadowy figure in a black hood and my wife's nightgown. I immediately assumed what most men would, but as I was about to lay the smackdown, I noticed it wasn't my wife's nightgown at all...she doesn't even own a nightgown. It was my mother-in-law's nightgown...odd, but much less infuriating. Before I had a chance to inquire as to what the hell he was doing there, a low, growling voice (which sounded a bit like Norm McDonald) said "You're mailbox comes with me." "Oh yeah?!" I replied, "bring it you little bitch!" I was slightly taken aback as I realized I had tapped into some previously unknown reserve of testicular fortitude large enough to allow me to stare Death in the face and call him a little bitch. Unfazed, I held my ground. He replied "Insolent mortal! Are you unaware of the power I posess?" Now, I've played enough poker to know a bluff when I see one. I could see in his eyes...well, at least where his eyes were supposed to be...that he was sure I would back down and hand over my mailbox. But I paid $12.95 for this mailbox at the Home Depot, so I wasn't going down without a fight. Plus, if there's one thing everybody knows, Death can't stand a good Monty Python-esqe taunting. I fired back with "I fart in you're general direction! Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries!" Defeated, Death laid the box of cigars at my feet, slumped his bony shoulders, and shuffled away leaving my mailbox intact.


What a tool...

[Drew_Moberly]

So there I was the end of my Spring semester of my sophomore year of college winding down. I had one final to go and it had been a GLOOMY week. Well on that Tuesday, Judgement Day for my GPA, I took my Bio-Medical Ethics final. I had nailed it, at least i thought. I felt confident and as I walked from the final th sun started shining, birds started chirping and it seemed all was perfect. Then i rounded a corner and saw the blood splatter everywhere. I thought was there a serial killing whilst i was taking my last final. I come to find out that one of my fraternity brother(also a cigar lover) had taken it upon himself to open my box. I feel bad for the kid, well and the mailman but thats what happens when proper precautions arent taken. I had to rebuild part of the house and go to a funeral but in the end, we all learned a valuable lesson that is backed by Federal Law.......

























Tampering with others mail is a Federal Offense!

Thanks for letting me be apart of this PIF....WATCH OUT the Reapers coming!

[grand cru no 2]

I love this thread! Rob, have we cycled through the list yet?

[Lopaka]

I love this thread! Rob, have we cycled through the list yet?

Not yet, there are 8 people left on the list. Since the next attack is coming from Canada it takes a little longer then normal.

Although, the next victum should get hit soon.

[godfather]

Having a peaceful sleep with my goomar, I'm awakened abruptly. A voice calls out, "Head down to your waste management office." In a daze, I ignore it and fall back asleep. The voice calls out again, "Ohhhhh, heeey jag-off, you wanna sleep with the fishes oh what?"

Getting out of bed, I decide to head to the office in my black Cadillac Escalade. My goomar rolls over and says, "Where are you going?" I proclaim, "Fo-get-about-it, go back to sleep."

The office is pitch dark with the moon glowing on a box reading, "OPEN ME." Is someone planning at hit on me or what? Then I remember, "Oh yeah, must be that reaper bastard." Opening the box, I'm pleasantly surprised and decide to smoke one of these beauties on the way home.

The next day Paulie tells me we've hijacked a shipment of quality cigars. Perfect timing as I put the plan in motion to strike the next victim.

[basil]

Christmas. A beautiful, exciting time of year. Funny how the season’s feelings of peace and expectation can lull one into a false sense of security; a sense that all is well.

Truth be told, there’d been a faint signal, a small warning from the inner voice – the one we drown out with wishful thinking and superficial noise of day-to-day existence. This morning, the voice was louder, demanding my attention, causing me to dig even deeper into the work in front of me, losing myself there and losing track of time.

And time, that counterfeit dimension, suddenly whipcracked itself into my consciousness and laid its snake fingers of foreboding on my shoulder. Suddenly I could barely draw a breath. Lifting my hands from my keyboard, they were visibly shaking. My skin felt tight and frozen, yet sweat had begun to run down my back.

Down the hall, I heard the main door open and close. In another of those cruel tricks of time, many, many moments took slow boats to China before anything further stirred. The voice just outside my door sounded so much like my colleague that I thought he had arrived a full hour before his usual appearance. Relieved that something familiar had finally drawn my awareness back from a yawning abyss of dawning terror, I jumped up and took the few short steps to the hall. Anything left in me within a normal temperature range plummeted through the frozen domain of fear and into the spheres of the calm, quiet awareness of a fate inescapable as I looked into the non-face of the specter before me and heard the words: “Something from the Grim Reaper.”

“Well,” says I to myself, “Mr. Megalomania referring to himself in the third person is no fuckin’ surprise, seein’ as how he has been around for quiet some time spelling doom and finality for every single last mortal soul since Day One.” It gave me an idea. Faster than he could say You’re Next, I ripped open the box shoved it toward him and said, “take your pick, skelatore, you deserve a nice break.” Somewhat disconcerted by my reaction to his, well, menacing presence somehow seems inadequate but will have to do, he, being by now a habituated if not honorary BOTL, gladly grabbed a huge diadema, saying as he stalked away, “this’ll take the Reaper a long, long time.”