Animew wrote:Contrast: 3.
Nope, I really did hugged by a serial killer.
STORY TIME!!
This happened back in 11th or 12th grade. I was out drinking with my friends, and when I say "drinking" I actually mean we broke into my friend's dad's liquor store and were gorging ourselves on carton after carton of iJuba. For those of you who've never tasted iJuba, it's kind of like the devil drank a ton of beer and then pissed it out again. Of course back then we didn't really have the sophistication to give a flying toss about quality when it came to booze, we just wanted to get drunk for free.
Anyway, we were standing around, basically trying to see who could drink the most without throwing up, when some guy wandered in off the street. I didn't even see him come in, but next thing I knew he had thrown his arm over my shoulder and was leaning on me like we were the best of friends.
This guy... I want you to imagine Dhalsim from Street Fighter getting freaky with Smeagol from Lord of The Rings, and then somehow having a mutant love child.
You got that image in your head? Good. Now imagine that hellspawn getting punched in the face until he only has three teeth left and you'll have some idea of what he looked like.
So this guy is leaning against me, his breath stinking to high heaven, looking at me all friendly, and he says: "Hello! My name is Willem Etter! Pleased to meet you!"
Now for those of you who don't speak Afrikaans, "etter" means "pus", and it's considered a pretty rude insult (usually worse than "shit"). This guy actually took that word and made it part of his identity. That probably should have tipped me off, but I was way too drunk to notice such social subtleties.
I introduced myself and shook his hand (alcohol makes me all sociable) and said, "Willem Etter? That's your name?"
"That's what they call me."
"Why do they call you Willem Etter?"
"Because I killed a bunch of people."
I wish I could accurately describe what went through my head in that moment. I guess it must be the same kind of feeling soldiers get when they're marching along and they suddenly hear a click beneath their boots.
And the worst part? My friends were fucking gone. They had slipped out the back the moment Willem Etter started hanging on me, leaving me to sink or swim on my own. So there I was, all alone in an abandoned liquor store in the middle of the night, drunk out of my mind, with a guy called "Willem Etter" who had just claimed to have killed a "bunch" of people.
Yeah. I was about ready to shit myself, but I kept calm and, acting all nonchalant, I asked him who he killed.
"It was a mom, a dad, and a kid. I broke into their home, but I didn't want to wake 'em up, so I stabbed them." It sounded even worse in Afrikaans. "Ek't hulle
gesteek!"
I nodded and sipped my iJuba, trying to think of a way out of this situation. The problem was, iJuba isn't exactly brain juice. Luckily for me, that's exactly when my carton ran out. I said, "Oh, would you look at that? It's empty. I'm gonna go get another one. You want one, too?"
He smiled at me, showing off all three of his yellow teeth. "Ja man!!"
So I slipped free, constantly thinking to myself:
Don't run, don't run, don't run...
I went to the fridge, grabbed a carton of iJuba, tossed it to Willem and said, "I wanna check something with my friends real quick. Be right back."
I'm not sure he heard me, though. He had his head tilted back and was downing the whole carton in one go.
I slipped out the back door and started to look for my friends, thinking that I was probably overreacting. It was probably just some hobo looking for free booze, just like us. That story couldn't have been true.
I finally found them farther down the road, huddled together arguing about something.
"You assholes!" I said. "You left me in there with some weirdo!"
They were all very glad to see me. "Holy shit, dude! You're alive! That guy is a total psycho killer!"
"Um..." The unease started to creep back in. "He did tell me he killed a family..."
"What? No, that happened years ago. I'm talking about just last week! He totally walked up to a guy in the squatter camp, put his arm around his shoulders, and then stabbed him in the face! For no reason! Didn't even steal anything! He just stabs 'cuz he likes stabbing! We thought you were gonna die! Seriously! We already called the cops, so let's get the fuck out of here!"
We were all underage and we had technically broken into my friend's dad's store, so you can understand why we didn't stick around. We spent the night at another friend's house (the one nice thing about tiny towns is that there's always a friend's house nearby) and watched Urban Legend, possibly the silliest horror movie ever made.
A few days later I heard from another friend (he wasn't with us at the time, but his dad was a policeman) that they had caught Willem Etter at a liquor store. When they searched him, they found a massive hunting knife tucked away in his jacket.
Yup. That was definitely one of the most hair-raising experiences of my life, I can tell you that.