The Epic Granola Conflict: Fears

And so it happened. The ultimate conflict...

But I should first explain how this happened. You look at me with pleading eyes and beg me to tell you, and I shall.

It all happened the day I felt a slight hunger. I went into the kitchen, and looked about. The empty cabinets mocked me with their lack of salted chips and others things that I can actually still eat, because being a lame vegetarian, I can't make myself chicken quesadillas and stuff anymore. So I wandered about, on a never-ending journey to find a snack. Past the pots and pans, beckoning me to place them on my head and march around proclaiming myself a pothead, despite being a 16 chick, resisting their urge. Past the refrigator, empty, except for the past memories of apples, juice, and those really yummy little cups of fruit cocktails with the yummy little cherry that I always eat first in the cup, but then I regret this because it's the best part and it makes me not want to eat the rest, so I force the rest of the fruit cocktail down, tears streaming down my face in memory of the little cherries. Farewell, I whisper softly into the cup, my tearful face reflected in the spoon that lies within it, distorted.

Anyways, back on to my story. I search in vain for a good snack, until I open the last cabinet in the kitchen, all my hope riding upon this. I see one box above them all, my salvation, the granola bars. My shaking hands outstretch the meet the box holding these rectangular chewy bits of heaven... until I see it. It.

I drop the box to the floor, yet it still faces upward towards me. The eyes peer, nay, pierce! They pierce into me, as I feel the distance between the box and I decrease, slowly, slowly, until the eyes are only inches away. I hear Carmina Burana: I. O Fortuna play in my ears. I see every white hair in his curled mane, and that hat! That hat, its only purpose to help diguise the evil that lay deep within, and possibly distract you because you want to softly stroke the edge of it. The rosy red cheeks also! They arouse feelings of pity in your heart, maybe even remind you of the innocence that lies behind the flushed cheeks of a child playing in the summer sun! But do not believe it! Within this creature lives HATRED that can even make Christmas looking LOVING. Because if you look hard enough, you can see the horror that lives within...


The Quaker Oat Man!


Chuckie Finster was right...
---

Topic: Tell me of your irrational fears, whether they be of Quaker Oat Men or elevators.

Yep. The Quaker Oat Man pretty much sums it up.

You are clearly insane. And you just fear the Quaker Oat Man because you secretly lust after him.

On topic, my only irrational fear is of Jess Art. On second thought, that fear is completely rational.

I fear sixteen-year-old females from New York City. But not Rye. That's just silly. You are insane!

And death. And Loony BoB (the two are the same).

And cl_out. And Leeza. How one can be afraid of bots, I can never be sure.

Fungus.

The buzzer on my old radio thing that my mum gave so that i could wake up on time to get to school.

Its TERRIBLE, I remember an evil practical joke exploiting my fear of it, setting the alarm to 12:00 and putting the buzzer on, at full volume..it doesnt help that i was wide awake at the time of it going off, but I almost hit the roof when it went off..

The majority of my fears are all extremely psychological and therefore not exactly illogical or irrational. However, I do suppose being slightly afraid of the dark and somewhat afraid of enclosed spaces is slightly irrational for a near twenty year old man. Although those have ties to the whole psychological bit with me, so I don't really know.

I'm afraid of the color yellow.

I'm also rather afraid of cicadas, but I'm sure everyone remembers that. :p

Im afraid of loud toilets and elevators and open closets. :(

Every night before i go to bed i pile up all the junk and cloths lying on my floor and i push it infront of the closet i know there is a rapist hiding in there people call me insane but there wrong! I mean it shouldn't be hard ot believe considering there was a zombie who i am know friends with once lived in my closet. I mean why do you think i stand up for Zombie rights!?

I have this weird irrational fear of axe wielding maniacs....hm, deja vu.

I fear loneliness.

We have nothing to fear but fear itself.

Except Clowns.

And Ninja.

And Ninja Clowns.

Heights.