GRL Victims Report

[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.”

[Bkcloud114]

I was in the backyard this afternoon cutting some wood. Just put a new blade on the chainsaw and sharpened the ax. Was about halfway through the wood and was stacking it on the rack when the dogs in both of the neighbors yards started barking and growling uncontrollably. Seemed as if they were barking at someone in my yard, but it was not me. They weren't even looking in my direction, they were looking at where the wood was stacked.

I ignored the dogs, figured it was a chipmunk or something. Went inside the house to grab myself a glass of water. That was when I heard the chainsaw start up. I looked out of the window and saw nothing. The chainsaw was now running but still on the floor. I went outside and hit the kill switch. That was when I realized I left my water inside. I went back into the house and got my water.... I heard it again..... chainsaw was running again. I looked out of the window and that was when I saw him. His back was to me and he had my chainsaw in his hands. Ripped clothing and his one legged lookeed as if it had been put on backwards. He was carving something into my picnic table. I grabbed the ax which I left at the door. That was when he heard me. He spun around looked at me and dropped the chainsaw. Then he ran and dissapeared where the wood was stacked. The wood rumbled and shuttered as if it had sucked him in.

I slowly made my way over to the table and noticed something was carved into it..... LOOK FOR THE BOX.... over my shoulder I could hear the wood moving, now I was scared. I still had the ax in my hands. I quickly turned and saw a small white box perched on top of the wood... making my way over to it I could see "The Grim Reaper" written on it. I ripped open the box.... this crazy Son-of-a-bitch has given me a great selection of smokes.

Who could be next ??

[BigMacFU]

As I was biking home the other day, I noticed an old beat up red, white and blue box truck making all the turns I was a few hundred feet behind. I thought nothing of it, the post office normally makes its routes on a similar path I ride. When I got back I paid no more mind of it, went about my usual routine and went to bed.

The next day on my way out to work I noticed the same beat up red, white and blue box truck waiting 100 feet down the street with the engine running. When I hopped on my bike and left, it did the same but in the opposite direction. I thought this could not be a coincidence, they don't start delivering this early. So, I arrived at work and called the post office. They told me one of the old retired guys couldn't let go of the glory days and actually bought himself an old mail truck to drive around his former route. They said I should pay no mind and continue on my business, apparently he does this a lot and they've gotten quite a few calls. Again, I pay no more mind and go about my day.

But, this time on my way home on the bike, the old loon pulls up next to me at a stop sign not far from my place. He asks in an old crotchety voice, "You wanna race son?" Knowing he's just crazy and missing his glory days I agree. I crank it up to 421 watts on the bike and start to fly, but he's keeping pace, after all, I'm on a bicycle and he's in a motor vehicle.

As I make the last couple of turns to get back to the apartment, I notice a funky smell in the air, like a bad burning and chemical smell. I think, it's NYC, this happens, after all, NJ is just across the river. But, as I make the final turn I see it, the south east corner of the building is completely blown up, just gone!!!!!!! As I pull up to see if anybody is hurt, the crazy postman comes ripping back into my reality with an awful cackle. I know he's crazy and probably can't help it, but come on, there could be hurt people in there, I tell him to shut up and go on his way.

The next thing I know he jumps out of the truck throws a cape on and grabs a sickle out of the back!!!!!! He really had gone postal and I couldn't believe it!!!!! I hop back on the bike crank it up to 421 watts and get about half way down the street when I crash over what could only be a fragment of what blew up my apartment, a bunch of tasty smokes from the REAPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!