(S7) - Weekend PT 2 - Friday the 13th

[PigSnout]

Not many people know this outside of the Wraiths players, but they did not choose their name just because it sounds cool. The team staff employs actual members of the undead to help them with certain duties. It was a jarring experience for Boss Tweed when he arrived to the Wraiths' facilities for the first time. An equipment manager came to take his bags and that equipment manager turned out to be an actual zombie with rotting flesh and soulless eyes. It was a bit difficult to adjust for Tweed's first few days as every encounter with one of the undead staff members was a jarring experience. However, he has since grown to accept it and embrace it over time. It turns out undead workers are quite convenient as they never need time off and they don't need to be paid. And once you get used to having them around, it is pretty cool to be on the team that actually has undead staff members working for them.

168 Words

[dropbear]

I was in two minds whether to post this. I know we’re all having a bit of fun here and sharing spooky stories for the sake of riling each other up, but I had something happen to me once that shook me to my core. I’ve never really spoken about it, because I didn’t really know how to. It’s not the sort of thing you just bring up with people – even friends or family.

Long story short, I’d been out for a few drinks with friends and was on my way home in a cab. I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching me, though. It felt like the cab driver was watching me in the rear view mirror, but his eyes darted away whenever I looked up. Anyway, the drive went by without issue, and I made it home. Though I still felt uncomfortable.

I go into my apartment and head to the bathroom. I walk past my calendar on the way and realise it’s Friday the 13th, and then I understand why I’ve felt so creeped out. So I flick on the bathroom light, and suddenly he’s there looking back at me in the mirror…

It’s JJ Reigns, trying to offer me sim advice.

[Mongoose87]

Friday the 13th, in September of 1957 was the date that Rich Diefenbaker, cousin of Prime Minister John Diefenbaker and starting quarterback for the university of Ottawa was gruesomely killed while touring a meat packing plant. A safety rail failed and Rich fell twenty feet into a grinder and was made into hotdogs.

Now, every time an Ottawa football game falls on Friday the 13th, it's said that when you bite into a stadium hotdog you can hear Rich cry out in terror and then agony, as he is transformed into a delicious wiener.

I swear, it's true! One of the my teammates, Jeff “Porkins” McKenzie used to celebrate every victory with a whole pack of hotdogs. One such victory was on the 13th, and I swear, with each dog he devoured, you could hear those terrifying screams. On an unrelated note, Jeff tragically died of a massive coronary failure, after only two seasons with the team.

[Toasty]

This just happened to me last night. Mason Brown, Otters Linebacker, was running down a minimum maintenance road when out of the woods a giant back man dressed in all black. Man he must've been like 350 pounds, started running behind him. Well anyways they ran down the road for a good 2 miles and the giant satyed a good 200 feet behind him. Mason, starting to get really fucking scared, picked up speed. Then the black guy picked up speed. By now Mason was sprinting and the black guy was keeping up. Then when Mason got to the end of the road it ended up being a dead end so Mason continued to keep running straight into a plowed field. The guy kept following. Mason continued to run for good 3 miles before he started to get tired. Then the black guy caught up and when Mason turned around he reached behind him and pulled out... a sharpie and a Mason Brown Pythons jersey. Then he said "Man can you run... will you sign this jersey for my son." Moral of the story not all giant black guys dressed in all black are bad.

[timeconsumer]

Angus Winchester woke up one morning in his apartment he stays in during the season in Orange County. Going through his usual morning routine he hits the bathroom and grabs a cup of coffee. Angus sits down at the breakfast table and turns the TV on to the local news. He is immediately greeted with the headline "Asterisks in Orange County!"
"What the fuck is going on?"
He grabs paper and sees the headline on the front page "Otter Multis Taint the Dynasty!"
Then he checks his phone, it's exploding with messages and notifications. Angus immediately dials his agent. He picks up, "Tell me this isn't true", he says to his agent. "How could there be multis on the team and I don't know about it?"
His agent responds, "You had to have known about it, because it was you. The league has already subpoenaed me and taken half my paperwork regarding you."
"John, there's no way I could have had multis. How is that even possible? How can I be more than one player at a time? This doesn't even make sense!"
John's voice on the other end "Just take your asterisk, it was never meant to be."

Angus wakes up. "Fuck that dream."

[keanex]

When I was 17 I was young and stupid. There was lore of a ghost in our town, my buddy lived about a 4 minute drive to the location. We were drunk, it was Friday the 13th and we decided it was a good idea to try to coax the ghost out.

Not a big deal, he lives really close to it so we could walk. Nope. The lore is that it was a child hit by a car so you have to drive to the location. Shut your car off while in neutral. You had to flash your high beams three times and honk your horn twice. Get out of the car and walk around it, and then when you got back in the child would appear in front of you.

Never mind the fact that driving drunk is stupid, never mind the fact that any alcohol under 21 and driving is an automatic DUI, never mind the fact that I was the only one driving at the time. We decided to do it anyway.

We drove to the location, did all of the requirements and were all pretty unsurprised when nothing happened. Oh well time to start the car, go back to my buddies and drink more.

Well my car wouldn't start. Shit shit shit. Car won't start. We're all confused all sitting there thinking. "Well we did it, the ghost is gonna get us. We're done for."

I'm kind of panicking now because I'm actually believing in ghosts for a second. I'm worried that cops might come. I don't know.

I look down and my car is still in neutral. Automatic cars won't start in neutral.

So I didn't get a DUI or encounter a ghost, but I did get got by a clever detail hidden in a ghost story.

PS: Don't drink and drive.

(308 words)

[PaytonM34]

Brian Mills wakes up from a long nap in his house in Tijuana after a long team meeting with his new draftees. He had just went over the defensive gameplan that was to be set in place against the Norfolk Seawolves in the season opener. "Man, this team could honestly be better than the season 5 team I was on. This team could take it all the way this year" He thought to himself. Being a coach for a minor league team and a player for a Pro football team was an exhausting task, but Mills found a way to push through it. He looks at his watch and sees that he slept in for his practice in New Orleans so he rushes to his private jet and tells the pilot "Take me home, we're late".

A couple hours go by, and before he knows it, Mills is at the Colorado Yeti practice field. He looks around confused... Dwayne Aaron. Johnathon Saint. Andre Bly Jr......

"wait! hold on a second! im not supposed to be here! I play in New Orleans!"

"Hahah, yeah good one Brian, there isnt even a team in New Orleans... are you feeling okay?"

"NNNOOOOOOOO!!!"

Brian then wakes up in a cold sweat after having the spookiest dream of his life.

215 words

[CDub2]

Everyone knows how spooky Friday the 13th can be. Not many people know how spooky the Wraiths can be though. There's a reason they had to stick us up in Yellowknife, we are too spooky for normal humans. Our offense is scary, our defence is even spookier. Heck, it even seems Er is in multiple places at once. So really we are the ones that bring fear to others. That being said, the scariest thing I've witnessed in recent memory came last year. Week 4, it was cold and dark. Perfect for a Wraith. It was late in the game. There was something ominous in the air. As the seconds ticked down in the game, the Wraiths knew something was amiss, an evil force, a wretched being. As the clock struck 0:00, we looked up and saw our worst fear staring back at us. 27-27 against the Second Line. The demons have spoken and we were cursed. Lost a lot of sleep over that one.

165 words

[37thchamber]

Once upon a sunday evening, while on the TV, heads were steaming,
Over numbered lines and lush turf beneath boards of score,
While I quaffed ale, and ate nachos, there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my man den's door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my man den's door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

And the armored warriors upon my screen resumed their war
Which thrilled me - filled me with fantastic feelings never felt before;
But once more, `knock knock` I hear, so I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor seeking entrance to the man den -
Some late visitor perhaps curious about the score; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Curious was I, too, emboldened by such; I paused the contest to speak,
`Oi,' said I, `I didn't lock the door, so just open it;
I'll not disturb my quaffing and munching for your blasted
tapping, tapping -- during the game no less! -- at my man den's door'
`knock knock` came the reply - in a fury I flung wide open the door; -
Only to see darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there staring, fearing,
Questioning my sanity, no less my hearing, in the doorway now open
The silence remained unbroken, and from the darkness I received no token,
And the only word there I heard spoken was an ethereal, `Caw caw!'
In disbelief I whispered it and an echo was returned, `Caw caw!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into my man den I came, all my soul and heart aflame,
I heard a tapping once again, somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `that is from my window coming, no doubt;
Let me see then, who torments me, and this mystery reveal -
Let my heart be calmed, my mind slowen, and see who calls; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Upon reaching the window, I flung it open wide, when, with nary a sound,
In stepped a majestic hawk of the saintly days of yore.
Without consideration, nor pause he fluttered wing and rose up,
And, with surety -- as if he were home -- perched above my man den's door -
Perched upon a bust of Breesus just above my man den's door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this predator bird beguiling my trembling into smiling,
By the sharpness of beak and stern expression it wore,
`Though your eyes are stern, you appear,' I said, `not to seek to do harm.
Majestic and frightful hawk of night with beak so terribly sharp -
Tell me what name you go by, this evening, so I may be informed!'
Quoth the raven, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'

The hawk, sitting lonely on the placid bust of Breesus, spoke only,
Those three words, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other birds have flown before -
On the morrow you will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'

As I sat upon cushioned chair of leather, I felt the air grow dense
My arms upon the arm rests tense, the beating of my heart intense
`Bird,' I cried, `why do you torment me so? I merely seek to view the game
Not for great bells or yeti, nor otter, sabercat or even outlaw!
Not for spooky ghost, nor second line in Nawlins! I watch only your sort!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'

`Dammit!' I screamed, `Why do you seek my company! Be you bird or devil? -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Stern-looking, and at ease within my home, my attention enraptured -
Mind and soul haunted by your silhouette - tell me truly, I implore -
Have I displeased or given cause to torment my thoughts - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'

`That!' said I, `is no answer, you feathered fiend - you fucking fuck!
With God as my witness in the heavens above us - give me answer -
Tell this soul the purpose, reasoning, or nature of your visit,
Relieve mind of questioning by providing response - I will ask just once more
What is it that brings you to my man den, and sees you perched above my door?'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'

`Be that phrase our sign of parting, feathered fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and without knowledge of tonights score!
Leave no single plume as a token of the torment thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my game-viewing unbroken! My questions remain unanswered
so take thy beak from out my heart, and leave the shoulder of Breesus! Begone!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'

And the hawk, not once flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the bust of Breesus resting just above my man den's door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore

[majesiu]