Every year I have this tradition: I go to Scaremare, I get the heeby jeebies and I get saved again.
Well this year, it all got ruined by one inconsiderate and selfish man whom I will call James. (Because that’s his name.)
Everything was going well. I was feeling conviction and highly aware of my temporal, sin ravaged state, when James decided that it would be a good idea to pass out in the strobe light room. Did I mention the strobe light room used to be my favorite room at Scaremare?
So, needless to say, everyone one got excited and was like “”Woo! It’s a dead guy!”" And I was like “”HE’S NOT FREAKING DEAD! I WANT SAVED!”"
Well, whatever I wanted at that point didn’t matter because apparently getting a headache makes you more important than me.
Next thing I knew I was surrounded by medics and self important Scaremare security guys who lost their job as supervisor at McDonalds who were yelling things like “”Standby!”" “”Clear the room.”" “”Go go go team Dwight!”"
So, I had to take James home. The evening was ruined.
Maybe I’ll just bring a dog next time.
Clifton
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