Aug. 26, 2026

The Ant Aquarium of Minister Crap & Things | Halloween Insect Horror

The Ant Aquarium of Minister Crap & Things | Halloween Insect Horror

Key Takeaways

  • In this chilling Halloween insect horror episode of Weekly Spooky, two former childhood bullies face a terrifying karmic trap designed by a victim from their past.
  • The story, written by Gary D from Ontario, Canada, features claustrophobic body horror, entomophobia, and a vicious revenge plot involving locked head aquariums filled with creepy-crawlies.
  • The narrative explores themes of cruel karma, childhood bullying, and psychological torment as the bullies realize their victim grew up to become Minister Leonard McGhee.
  • Listeners are treated to a visceral tale of gross-out terror where the protagonists find themselves forced to experience the exact type of helpless degradation they once inflicted on others.
  • Weekly Spooky delivers spine-tingling horror every Wednesday, offering mature horror fiction fans dark comedy, vicious twist endings, and immersive soundscapes.

Halloween insect horror, body horror, and revenge horror crawl together in this grotesque Weekly Spooky scary story about bullying, karma, and a punishment with thousands of legs. A man wakes in a windowless basement with a reinforced glass aquarium locked around his headโ€”packed with fire ants, carpenter ants, crickets, centipedes, millipedes, Madagascar hissing cockroaches, and something even fouler.

The nightmare is not random. Years earlier, he and his best friend Dave turned another childโ€™s suffering into entertainment, forcing their victim to swallow insects and endure humiliations that never stopped hurting. Now the past has placed both men inside a carefully designed trap, and someone they tried to forget is ready to teach them what it truly means to be bugged.

As Halloween season creeps closer, add this mature horror fiction episode to your spooky listening queue if you love claustrophobic horror, entomophobia, gross-out terror, psychological revenge, dark comedy, cruel karma, and vicious twist endings. Turn off the lights, put on your headphones, and remember: what goes around may come back crawling.

The Ant Aquarium of Minister Crap & Things โ€” by Gary D up in Ontario, Canada.

๐ŸŽง LISTEN NOW and subscribe for spine-tingling horror stories every week!

๐ŸŽ‰ Unlock exclusive bonus episodes and support the show on Patreon!
๐Ÿ‘‰ WeeklySpooky.com/Join

๐Ÿ“ฌ Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!


๐ŸŽต Music by Ray Mattis ๐Ÿ‘‰ Check out Rayโ€™s incredible work here !
๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ’ผ Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
๐ŸŽฅ Produced by: Daniel Wilder
๐ŸŒ Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com

Frequently Asked Questions

Who wrote The Ant Aquarium of Minister Crap & Things?

This terrifying Halloween insect horror story was written by Gary D up in Ontario, Canada.

What is the main plot of this Weekly Spooky episode?

Two men who bullied a classmate named Leonard McGhee in school wake up trapped in a basement with locked glass aquariums sealed around their heads, filled with fire ants, centipedes, cockroaches, and other creepy-crawlies as an act of revenge.

Where can I listen to Weekly Spooky episodes?

You can listen to Weekly Spooky on your favorite podcast apps like Apple Podcasts and Spotify, or visit WeeklySpooky.com for more terrifying tales.

How can I support Weekly Spooky and access bonus content?

Fans can unlock exclusive bonus episodes and support the show by joining their Patreon at WeeklySpooky.com/Join.

WEBVTT

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He wakes up in a locked basement with a glass

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aquarium sealed around his head, fire ants stinging his skin,

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centipede searching for somewhere warm to crawl. Then a television

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switches on, showing the friend who helped him ruin a

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child's life. Tonight, Karma has many legs. What's that You

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want to be scared? Come with me. He will experience

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tales over our room, ghosts and death gat He is

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not recommended for the week at heart listeners, in the dark,

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it's more fun at that way way. This is Weekly Speaking. Hello,

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my spooky is It's Wednesday, and you know what that means.

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It's time for a little spooky in your weekly. I'm

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your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and tonight, well we

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have a hell of a story for you, and it

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just might bug some of you more sensitive listeners, so

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be prepared. But before we get to that, I want

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to say thank you all so much for making my

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show and our stories a part of your pre Halloween festivities,

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whether you're getting ready for the season now or you're

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like us, a true blue spooky that lives in Halloween

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all year long. Happy to have you here, and if

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you enjoy the show, make sure to share it with

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someone who you want to bug and keep the Halloween vibe.

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And of course subscribe on your favorite podcast app like

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Apple Podcasts or Spotify so you never miss something scary

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released every single day here at Weekly Spooky, And if

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you want to support us in a very direct way

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and get two bonus shows every single month, head to

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Weeklyspooky dot com slash join, where for as little as

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one dollar a month you get two bonus shows as

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well as over six years of exclusive audiobooks and creepypasta readings.

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That's Weeklyspooky dot com slash Join. But now, as for tonight.

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Most people are afraid of the dark because they can't

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see what might be hiding there. But some fears are

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worse when you can see every single detail. Imagine waking

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beneath a cold basement light with a glass box locked

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around your head. The walls are inches from your face,

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the air is wet, something is crawling across your eyelid,

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something else is testing the entrance to your ear, and

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somewhere in the room, a television is waiting to show

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you why this is happening. Years ago, two boys learned

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how much pain they could cause when everyone else was laughing.

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They turned insects into weapons, humiliation into entertainment, and another's

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misery into a daily ritual. But now revenge isn't just sweet,

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it's oddly crunchy. The Antiquarium of Minister Crap and Things

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AKA When Karma Decides to bug the hell out of

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You by Gary dee Up in Ontario, Canada. The air

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is alive with the sound of children's cruel, incessant laughter, hooting,

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and hollering, all crowded around a single child submissively bent

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over and down on the ground on all fours in

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the back corner of a bustling schoolyard. I said, eat it, you,

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four eyed, pimple faced freak, I say to the poor

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dumbass kid. As he kneels in the grass with his

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nose almost touching the dirt. He hesitates, crying out in

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a muted whimper, Please don't make me do this, please.

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I then tightly grip the back of his neck like

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a wood shop vice, shoving his pie hole even deeper

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into the soil. Some of the kids standing nearby are

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still laughing and rhythmically chanting, eat it, eat it, Eat it.

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Whereas others appear to have grown tired of this humiliating game,

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seeming to have lost complete interest. One girl feebly yells,

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let him go. Now, the joke's over. I think he's

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had enough. I immediately bark back, he's had enough when

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I say he's had enough, and right now, I say

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the boy needs to eat. I then proceed to push

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down hard, grinding his face and moving it from side

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to side as I move his head in a circular

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motion as if polishing a pane of glass, and then

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fully smush his face firmly into a glistening, freshly deposited

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mound of dog shit, making damn sure to paint it

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all over his face and thereby cover his cheeks, his lips,

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and some of it even gets crammed up his nostrils.

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The kid then throws a bloody, hairy caniption as opposed

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to a bald or hairless conniption, I guess, and begins

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coughing and spitting like crazy, before finally closing the deal

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by violently projectile vomiting all of his stomach contents onto

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the grass. The group of kids that were watching the

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show immediately vocalize a collective before disbanding and quickly walking

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off in silence, leaving just me and my best bud,

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Dave Toth, to just stand there and snicker. We both

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evillly smirk as we look down at this pathetic, quivering,

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barely human in our eyes meatsack that's hunched over in

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front of us, as he balls his little eyes out,

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with us towering high above him, mocking him and belittling

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him to such a degree that he must surely feel

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as tiny, helpless, and worthless as the huns of assorted worms, beetles, ants,

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and other little bugs that we'd regularly forced him to

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feast on over the last two years. Suddenly, the recess

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bell rings, and as I head back toward my next class,

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I realized that what I thought was the school bell

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is in fact just my alarm clock going off, reminding

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me to get the fuck up and get ready for work.

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But then, for a split second, just before everything fades away,

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I quickly turned to look back at the crouched and

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defeated looking body of the kid I just psychologically disemboweled

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to see him slowly lift and twist his head awkwardly

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upward and around to look me dead straight in the

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eyes and somehow creepily deep into my soul. What the

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fuck echoes through my brain As I gaze upon him

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where his face should have been, I now see nothing

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but a pair of black billiard ball sized eyes and

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a huge set of moving mandibles like you'd see on

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some giant mutant ant, slowly dripping with a black honeylike liquid,

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and wildly or almost more angrily pinching open and closed

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up into the empty air. Then all at once all

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I see is darkness. Man, what a bizarre, messed up

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fucking dream that was, I think to myself. I'm not

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really fully awake nor mentally all there yet, so I

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just lay there with my eyes closed, daydreaming and thinking

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about the day that lay ahead, when your worst nightmares

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can sometimes begin innocently enough, shrouded and camouflaged in a

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veil of peace and tranquility, before inevitably coming violently, crashing

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down full tilt, and shooting headfirst into the bloody, insidious,

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and horror filled bowels of hell reality that they really are.

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Have you ever started your day waking up first thing

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in the morning to the annoying sensation of something gently

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tickling your face and making it feel very itchy. This

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question really relates more to those of us who regularly

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have to deal with the daily scourge called active facial

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hair growth. Sometimes, this feeling of each individual beard or

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mustache hair slowly growing in with its associated microscopic hair

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follicle twisting and turn and ever so slight ticklish caressing

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of the skin can feel an awful lot like a

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small ant crawling across your face. And with hundreds and

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hundreds of these hairs doing this exact same thing and

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at the very same time, this annoying, itchy feeling is

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then exponentially amplified, making it feel a hell of a

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lot more like a whole damn colony of agitated ants,

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all excitedly stampeding across your face. On this particular morning, though,

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this feeling was noticeably different. Rather than a swarm of

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tiny ants parading about, it felt freakishly more like an

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enraged rampaging herd of long tone, nailed micro turtles with

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feet that felt much heavier than they should and an

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excitement level that seemed far more elevated than afeed. And

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as I tried to get some relief by reaching out

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both of my hands to give my face a good

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hard scratch. My fingers were oddly met with a cold, hard,

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and smooth surface which strangely felt like glass. I quickly

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opened my eyes and was immediately frustrated by all of

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the ocular floaters that I was seeing drifting aimlessly around

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in my eyes, But then soon thereafter realized, after having

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blinked a few times, that in fact, it wasn't floaters

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that I was looking at. The god awful shit truth

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of my situation suddenly hit the reality fan when I

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saw something quickly slither straight across my eyeball whilst another unknown,

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creepy crawley tried over and over again to desperately squeeze

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and shove itself into my left nostril. What the actual

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fuck am I dreaming? This has got to be a nightmare,

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because there's no fucking way this can be real. I

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breathe heavily, and my eyes continuously dart from side to

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side as I come to the realization that there's a

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sizeable rectangular aquarium tightly affixed around my head, and not

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just any aquarium, but from what I can make out,

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an aquarium brimming full with what looks to be hundreds

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of tiny fire ants loads of giant mandibled carpenter ants,

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noisy crickets, finger length centipedes, several madagascar hissing cockroaches, and

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what appears and smells to be sickly, foul smelling human shit.

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As I firmly grasp two corners of the aquarium, sprittly

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tugging and twisting it in a frenzied attempt to get

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it off, all at once, I spot a locked padlock

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which seems to be securing a strong metal cage infrastructure

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that's surrounding it, and at the same time also locking

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in place a very uncomfortable steel collar that's tightly surrounding

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my neck. I scream uncontrollably as I feel all these

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thousands of tiny marching legs, vibrating feelers, pinching mandibles, and

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other assorted quivering insect body parts, all hurriedly scurrying and

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skidaddling across the sensitive skin surface covering both my face

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and neck. Even though being for the most part physically

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painless other than the constant burning stings of those damn

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fire ants, the mental torture alone is more than I

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can bear, as the glass panels of my cranial aquarium

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cage enclosure continue to fog up from the quickly accumulating

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condensation created by my constant moist and humid, hyperventilating and

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frantic screams. I desperately smash it into the wall directly

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behind me. The cradled aquarium slams violently into the rough,

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reddish brown brick. But this damages absolutely nothing but my

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already throbbing neck, muscles and brain. With eyes darting frantically

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from side to side, I quickly scan the inside of

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the aquarium, but see that there's not even the slightest damage, nothing,

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not even a microscopic chip or crack in the glass.

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Whoever had designed this constructive torture device clearly knew what

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the hell they were doing. I then realize that I'm

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sitting in a basement somewhere, with there being absolutely no

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windows and just one thick, heavily reinforced steel door, nothing

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but crude, uneven orange brown brick jutting out here and

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there from all four walls, and there's a heavy chain

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attached to a metal ankle collar that's tightly clamped to

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my right leg, Like, what the actual fuck? And before

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I can even think of trying to do anything, at

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all to somehow dislodge this ridiculous, entomological and fecal nightmare

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cage from around my head. The silence of the room

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is suddenly broken by the sound of loud static coming

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from an old TV set standing all alone in a

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dark corner of the room. I instinctively swing my head

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around to look, and what I see immediately makes my

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jaw drop wide open, but only for a split second,

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because a large cockroach has, at that exact same moment,

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thought that it had suddenly found a new home. There

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on a black and white TV screen, I can now

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clearly see the grainy image of my old high school

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buddy Dave. I watch as he sits there, strapped in

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and fully restrained in a padded leather chair, violently twisting, thrashing,

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and contorting his upper body all around as he wildly screams.

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And what seems even more bizarre is that it appears

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that he's wearing the exact same horrific ant and other

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insect filled aquarium headgear as me. And just as I

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feel the strong urge to vomit, I get the sensation

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of two successive wet pops as a couple of nasty

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looking beasties successfully squeeze their way up into each of

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my nostrils and then scamper their way up into my

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sinus cavity. The agonizing, unreachable, ticklish sensation that this creates

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is unfortunately an itch that I just can't scratch. I

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snort over and over again, with tears running down my

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cheeks and bubbling snot and spittle, as well as strings

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of long, viscous mucus splashing all around my mouth and nose,

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mimicking the appearance of two violently erupting fleshy volcanoes, and

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on the screen in front of me, I can see

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that Dave is at the very same time also watching

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me on a TV set, and thereby given a front

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row seat to then fully experience the horrific effects of

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my relentless torture. For several minutes, all that can be

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heard are the anguished, desperate moans, groans, and strained voices

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of two stressed, out grown men desperately pleading and screaming

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for mercy. Then suddenly both TV sets go to black,

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and the next thing that Dave and I see and

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hear on our respective TV sets is the image of

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a shadowy figure from a distance of what appears to

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be a man. He's sitting comfortably in a very large,

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padded recliner chair, and like what the fuck, he seems

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to be giggling uncontrollably, like some kind of immature and

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overstimulated child. The lens then slowly zooms in, giving us

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a clear image and close up of just his face.

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His smile is beyond creepy. The look on his face

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is one of pure and complete pleasure and satisfaction, as

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if he'd won the billion dollar lottery or just witnessed

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the birth of his first child. Was this the fucking

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asshole who was responsible for these fucking bug filled aquariums

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stuck on our heads? Who is he? And why the

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hell is he doing this to us? Both Dave and

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I must have thought that at the same time. Then,

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as I look very closely at the features of his face,

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the sad, sunken eyes, the long, crooked and bent to

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one side nose, and a long jagged scar running clear

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across his forehead, it suddenly dawns on me as to

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who this is. I look up up along the walls

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and ceiling, and then suddenly see a blinking red light

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that I hadn't noticed before. I can see that it's

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clearly a video camera, and one that has obviously been

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watching my every move, not that I have any great

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moves left to give, especially given my current situation. Before

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I can even open my mouth to say anything, the

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figure on the TV screen speaks.

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Well, well, well, now, looky what we have here. Looks

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like you finally figured it out. Good to see you

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boys again. Time has a strange and funny way of

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turning the tables in life, don't it. I could see

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that Dave had now stopped moving and was intently staring

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at his TV set. He was grunting something over and

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over again that sounded a hell of a lot like you,

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son of a bitch, You son of a bitch, So

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I'm guessing he must have figured it out around the

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same time that I did. Suddenly I cringe and start

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screaming like a madman trapped in a shock therapy infused

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insane asylum basement as I shake my head back and forth,

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having just felt the nauseating sensation of multiple twitchy little

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legs of something possibly a centipede or maybe a cricket,

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as it quickly pushed and then slithered its way into

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my right ear canal. You bastard, You crazy fucking bastard,

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I yelled, in an almost hysterical, maniacal voice, which I

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barely even recognized as being my own. Knowing that there

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was absolutely no chance in hell that I was ever

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going to get this damn aquarium off my head, I

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then just resigned to this fact and simply gave up,

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and then, out of both sheer frustration and anger, decided

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to just open up my mouth wide and just start

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crunching down on everything and anything that dared to crawl in.

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And as it turned out, those large, freaky carpenter ants

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that I was initially so afraid of actually ended up

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being rather tasty, and I found them to be a

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little bitter at first, but then had a kind of

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nutty finish, being somewhat of an acquired taste. Whereas those bloody,

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wriggly millipedes and centipedes proved to be nothing more than

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just a damn nuisance, because even when thoroughly chewed and

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then a massed into a slimy ball on top of

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the tongue, their damn bloody squirmy little leg nonetheless never

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stopped moving. Dave and I realized that who we were

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looking at on the TV screen was none other than

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Leonard McGhee bugs McGhee, as we fondly used to call

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him back in grade school. He was a timid, skinny

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little shit, constantly building his stupid, geeky model airplanes, wearing

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his freaky multi colored bow ties and thick lensed pop

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bottled glasses. And then there was that ridiculous bright pink

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pocket protector of his. And worst of all, he always

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made the rest of us look bad by kissing all

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the teacher's asses and getting straight a's. He was a

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total nerd through and through, so naturally the little puke

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had to be punished, and that's where Dave and I

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came in. We made sure to torment the crap out

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of loser Leonard each and every single day, and we

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did this regularly over the last two years. We need

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his lunch, or steal his lunch money, beat the crap

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out of him, and what we found to be most

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enjoyable and entertaining of all was force him to eat

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all kinds of different bugs. These regularly included the likes

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of ants, potato bugs, spiders, flies, beetles, butterflies, praying mantises,

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as well as a tasty assortment of worms, snails, grubs

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and maggots. The glorious showstopper, Pierre de Resistance being getting

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him to lick and somehow even chew a plethora of

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various different pieces of both fresh and aged dog shit

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that we had managed to find in and around the schoolyard.

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And during those times when he choked or gagged on

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a rotting worm, an ant, or a cockroach, for example,

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the only water we'd ever let him drink was the warm, putrid,

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stinking smells like dead fish tank water from inside the

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green algae overgrown aquarium located in the science room. Suddenly,

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bugs began to speak again, but this time in a

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rather unexpected and unfamiliar, calm, confident, and now taunting voice.

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What goes around comes around, as they say, my friends,

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I've spent a lifetime in misery, and over that time

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have received countless hundreds of hours of intensive mental therapy,

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but in the end have still remained nothing but a

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severely fucked up and depressed man. And that is all

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thanks to the two of you. Couldn't hold down a job,

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date a girl, get married, have kids, have friends, hell

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live anything even remotely close to resembling a normal life.

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I even studied hard and eventually became an ordained minister,

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which then at least brought me some small degree of

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spiritual peace. He continued on, and no matter how hard

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I tried and tried to allow forgiveness and complete inner

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peace to re enter my life, I finally one day

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just came to the firm unshakable realization and conclusion that

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this could never ever happen. But now, as I happily

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look at the two of you and your contorted faces,

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suffering and squirming like this in my special, one of

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a kind aquariums, I believe that I'm suddenly feeling much better.

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I'm so sorry, Leonard. We were just stupid kids. I

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know there's no excuse for what we did to you.

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Please forgive me, and I promise you I'll find a

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way to make it up to you. I have money,

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I pleaded, desperately, willing to say just about anything to

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get this fucking aquarium off my fucking head. I waited

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for him to respond, but heard nothing but crickets. Literally.

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By now, I'd gotten quite used to the feeling of

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having all of these sons of bitches, squirming bugs crawling

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around on my face and into every available orifice, But

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the sickly sweet smell of that god awful shit smeared

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all over on the inside glass never seemed to get old.

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Was this perhaps Leonard's personal contribution to the whole equation?

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Or just a cherry on.

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Top Karma's an itch, ain't it? Boys? Or should that

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be payback and revenge? Any who? Seeing as to how

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much effort the two of you put into continuously torturing

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and bugging the shit out of me day after day

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and over those two long years, and as a result,

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completely destroying my entire fucking life, I find it only

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fair and totally fitting to now graciously return the favor.

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And as Bugs uttered these final words, he suddenly began

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to deconstruct himself, right there before our very eyes, and

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in the strangest of ways, starting from the very top

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of his head and then methodically shedding away layer by layer,

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collapsing downwards and cascading to the floor like so many

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rows of thousands of dominoes, but in this case in

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the form of a collapsing mountain or downward surging tidal

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wave of forever writhing and squirming giant hissing cockroaches. And

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the next thing we see is all of them quickly

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crawling or more like stampeding, into our respective rooms by

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suddenly appearing both under and along the side cracks of

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our reinforced steel doors, like a scene straight out of

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the movie The Shining as the wave of bright red blood,

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but in this case, giant madagascar hissing cockroaches violently breaches

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our only path to a possible escape and salvation. Well,

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my spookies, let that be a lesson to you. If

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you spend your childhood bugging the head out of someone,

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Karma may eventually come crawling back with six or more legs,

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some snapping mandibles, and a reinforced aquarium. Big thank you

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00:30:12.559 --> 00:30:15.599
to Gary Dee up in Ontario, Canada for yet another

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00:30:16.000 --> 00:30:20.519
twisted and sickly fun terror tale. This one pretty well

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00:30:20.559 --> 00:30:25.960
guaranteed to make every tiny inch feel extremely worrisome when

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you go to bed tonight. And thank you all so

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00:30:28.799 --> 00:30:31.720
much for joining me here tonight for another scary story.

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We've done over four hundred of them and we are

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00:30:34.640 --> 00:30:37.680
not slowing down, So make sure you're subscribed on your

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00:30:37.720 --> 00:30:40.440
favorite podcast app and if you have a friend you

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00:30:40.519 --> 00:30:43.440
want to bug, I'm gonna get the most mileage out

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00:30:43.480 --> 00:30:46.400
of that. I can send them this story right now

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00:30:46.440 --> 00:30:49.920
and help them get into the spooky season spirit. And

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00:30:49.960 --> 00:30:52.240
if you want to help us keep the Halloween spirit

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00:30:52.279 --> 00:30:55.720
alive all year long, you can head to Weeklyspooky dot

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00:30:55.759 --> 00:30:58.039
Com slash Join, where for as little as one dollar

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00:30:58.119 --> 00:31:01.279
a month, you get two bonus episodes every month, as

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00:31:01.319 --> 00:31:03.839
well as my undying gratitude. And I want to say

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00:31:03.880 --> 00:31:06.680
an extra special thank you to our Patreon podcast boosters

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00:31:06.680 --> 00:31:09.839
folks who went to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash Join and

393
00:31:09.920 --> 00:31:12.000
signed up for a little bit more to hear their

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00:31:12.079 --> 00:31:14.119
names at the end of every show. And they are

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00:31:14.200 --> 00:31:18.880
Johnny Nicks, Keat and Lulu, Jessica Fuller, Mike Ashkeuey, Jenny Green,

396
00:31:19.160 --> 00:31:23.000
Amber Hansford, Karen we Met, Jack Kerr, and Craig Cohen.

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00:31:23.039 --> 00:31:25.200
Thank you all so much for your support, and if

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00:31:25.200 --> 00:31:26.839
you want to hear your name at the end of

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00:31:26.839 --> 00:31:29.799
every episode, go to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash join and

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00:31:29.839 --> 00:31:32.480
sign up at the fifteen dollars a month or higher mark.

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00:31:32.839 --> 00:31:35.200
It really means a lot to me. I really mean that,

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00:31:35.319 --> 00:31:35.839
my friends.

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00:31:36.039 --> 00:31:37.680
But now it's time for me to get back to work,

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00:31:37.680 --> 00:31:40.720
because there's something scary for you to listen to even tomorrow.

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00:31:40.759 --> 00:31:44.160
And we're coming up very quickly on my fortieth birthday,

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00:31:44.240 --> 00:31:46.359
so I need to get the spooky in before I

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00:31:46.400 --> 00:31:49.240
start becoming a fancy, proper gentleman.

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00:31:49.599 --> 00:31:50.559
So for myself, for my.

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00:31:50.519 --> 00:31:53.960
Executive producers Rob Fields and babbletopia dot Com, my producer

410
00:31:54.079 --> 00:31:57.480
Dan Wilder, and my creepy composer Ray Maddis, I will

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00:31:57.480 --> 00:32:00.920
talk at you tomorrow. Thank you for.

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00:32:00.920 --> 00:32:01.640
Listening to me.

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00:32:02.400 --> 00:32:06.160
Make sure to find your way back next week, but

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00:32:06.279 --> 00:32:11.359
for now you are safe, trust me,