Rayquaza2233 Wrote:Some dark-furred superhero, perhaps?

ClawofBeta Wrote:You're a mod. Compare the IP addresses .

The Black Chinchilla Wrote:Hey, gaychinchilla is a raging homosexual. I am a raging nigger-chinchilla. Goddamn.

madanthony Wrote:Should change your sig to "I <3 Black Chinchellettes" or something then. You raging homosexual-nigger-chinchilla. Goddamn.

madanthony Wrote:Should change your sig to "I <3 Black Chinchellettes" or something then. You raging homosexual-nigger-chinchilla. Goddamn.

ClawofBeta Wrote:I figured it out when Khoi just posted.

Kawasari Mimoto Wrote:I'll be Black Chinny whenever I want to do misc. deeds that I don't feel like doing on this account, tee-hee.

Greg Wrote:Anyway, I was browsing archives a few hours ago and I found this story that gave me the shivers. I thought I'd share it with you guys in the next horrible Funhouse thread, so here you go.

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About nine months ago, I decided that it would be fun to ride our local light rail to the end of the line and see what there was around that area. Along with me came a good friend of mine, Elliot, because stories of my adventures tend to be fantastic if there isn't a witness along. I guess he just wanted to join in for once.

As we rode on the light rail, we talked pomegranate about all sorts of things, as we are wont to do. I can't recall specifics, but they aren't particularly important overall anyway. We're just looking around at the various things we're passing when Elliot notices a restaurant called the Seven-Penny Split. This intrigued us, as we didn't get the reference, and as it was nearing lunch time anyway, we decided we'd get off at the next stop and backtrack to this restaurant.

Now, this restaurant was nothing special, let me tell you. Homestyle cooking (kind of like what you'll find at Denny's), made decently, and the prices were normal, so it was really just a bland eating experience. I wouldn't encourage anyone to go there for the food.

The dude at the table next to us, however, was the interesting part of this. We had just finished our meal when this guy began crying over a photograph of something, and I mean seriously bawling. He was probably 40 or so (I'm not particularly good with guessing ages), with a growing bald spot in his light brown hair. It was hard to tell other details, as he had his face buried in his hands. God, it was getting really loud, too, and at some point I just decided to find out what was going on.

Taking the seat across from him, I shook him lightly and asked, "So, what's the matter?" He looked up at me with reddened eyes, still blurry from the tears. I was able to get a look at the photograph from this vantage point, and was able to see that it appeared to be a young girl, maybe ten or so.

He began by trying to apologize for bothering us, but Elliot (who grabbed a nearby chair and sat down next to us) and I just kept pestering him to tell us what the matter was. "It really helps to talk about it with others," Elliot said, and I wholeheartedly agreed. So the man, who introduced himself as Rupert (I couldn't help but flash back to the children's show that I used to watch), went into his long tale.

This girl, he started with, is named Anna. She is Rupert's youngest daughter, but she recently died from heart complications. She was playing outside at recess and her heart malfunctioned and she was just dead. Rupert's been like this for a while, apparently, not always this bad, but just breaking down in different situations, and today, he was pulling out his credit card to pay when he accidentally grabbed her picture instead, and broke down.

Well. Elliot and I really didn't know what to say to that. I mean, what's the right thing to say here? "She's in Heaven now, at least"? "At least you have other children"? We didn't pineapplein' know. But Elliot had the right idea:

"Hey, Rupert, wanna go get drunk?"

That was a smashing idea, and so we paid and hopped into Rupert's SUV to go to the nearest bar, which was a little hole-in-the-wall called O'Schmidt's. It was definitely a dive and was hazy with cigarette smoke (this was before they banned smoking in bars in our city), but it would do. So we got drunk off our asses. As time went on, Rupert looked less despondent and instead, started telling us stories of Anna's childhood, like her obsession with this large teddy bear that they had named Friend Bear.

Anna would tell the most fantastic stories for her age, about the adventures of Anna and Friend Bear. It reminded me a lot of Winnie-the-Pooh and those sort of things, but it was Anna apparently coming up with the stories and not Rupert. We laughed at some of the stories, because they were fantastical little adventures, and I wish I had a bear like that when I was a kid.

Late into the evening, after we had sobered up sufficiently, Rupert gave Elliot and myself a ride home. It seems we had made a fairly good friend in this older guy, and had at least cheered him up a bit. We exchanged numbers and told him to give us a call if he wanted to meet up again sometime. He said that he'd be sure to give us a call.

Well, we did get a call. About a month later, a lawyer called my house, asking me if I would attend a will-reading.

Rupert had apparently committed suicide the week before.

Elliot and I both went downtown to the lawyer's office, where we sat in a conference room with six other people. They introduced themselves, but I never bothered to remember their names, as I'm not usually very good with names, but they included Rupert's other two children and his ex-wife along with a couple of other friends.

The lawyer went through the list of things that Rupert had wanted given away, most of which I didn't listen to. I was just trying to understand why we had been called in- would Rupert have left us something in his will? We only met for one night!

Elliot shook me out of my thoughts, as the lawyer had just read my name. "To <anonymous> and Elliot: I thank you both for trying to bring me out of my depression. Though ultimately I decided that this world held no further draw for me, you helped me remember the happy times with my little Anna, and for that, I leave to both of you Friend Bear, her stuffed toy."

I didn't know what to say. Elliot muttered a soft "thank you" to, apparently, no one in particular, and looked down at the table. The lawyer moved on to other things, but at the end I was given a box that contained a two-foot tall, tan-colored teddy bear.

It's sitting on Elliot's bookshelf. I couldn't stand to have it staring at me with its lifeless eyes, the only surviving witness to a child's adventures and a father's grief.

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Kawasari Mimoto Wrote:Encourage him.

madanthony Wrote: