Posts Tagged ‘storytime’

    Does anyone know where my Honda went? Someone must have stolen it…
    This will be a quick story about my old church. This story came in my third year of being a Christian. I was talking to a pastor about speaking in tongues. I always wanted to do the impossible, and for me speaking in tongues was impossible. I didn’t understand it and always felt it was a trick to get people more hyped in church, but for some reason, I was never able to achieve the goal of doing so.

    Being very frustrated, I wanted to get my pastors advice. What he told me was un-releastic and made me question everything. I don’t know if he was joking, but  if he wasn’t then there are so many people walking around, thinking they are giving a gift of God, when in reality they are fools of a man’s tricks.

    The trick is very simple. You just have to say a few simple phrases, quickly, and you did it! The phrases are; “Who stole my Honda?” and “Untie my bow tie.” Now of course, one must say them quickly and in a low volume, mainly to ensure no one hears you, but that is the trick. You will be able to speak in tongues without problems, but only of you follow the rules.

    Let me remind you:
1. Get pumped at Church.
2. Lift your hands
3. Start praying
4. Say one of the two phrases.
5. Keep it low volumed and continue.
6. Sell it!


Obviously, this isn’t the way to do this, but I found it funny. The Lord is something to not joke about. But also playing tricks on people isn’t acceptable either. So if you want to do this, so be it, but make sure to keep it to yourself. Don’t share my secrets …fool!



A wattpad special!
Standing alone!
I sit here, in my room, all alone after the fight with my wife. I said a few things again that were not needed to be said. I know I need to stop the way that I treat her, or one day she will leave me. But there is something that she does, that pisses me off. My wife pushes me to a point that I want to break her neck. I have never been violent with a woman, but there is a line that I also haven’t crossed and I feel like she is about to shove me across that line.
The whole fight started with her staying at work for longer than needed. I was waiting outside waiting for her, I had roses in one hand and wine in the other. But when she came outside she didn’t notice my kind gesture. I wanted to slam her head into the car window, but my past teachings taught me to never hit a woman, so I kept my cool until I got into the car.
Once we got into the car, I let her have it though. I told her that she needed to pay more attention to me and that it was unacceptable. She snapped back talking about how if I did it more then it might mean something to her. As I said before, I wanted to bash her head in, show her the amount of pain and embarrassment, that she just shown outside her job, but I kept cool, again. I remember driving home after that was said, thinking of a way to punish her, but something inside wasn’t allowing me to think of the dark tortures. I stayed quite the rest of the way home.
She got out of the car quickly, slamming the door behind her and walking into the house. She was trying to make me mad, but I was numb to the ignorance that she was showing. I have dealt with the craziness for more than 7 years, so I let her storm up the stairs and take a shower, just like every time I make her mad. This time was different though, there was never a light turned on, not even for the room that she would usually lay her heavy jacket in before getting naked. The fear of someone attacking my love, made me nervous so I went to check on her. I got out of the car when the light came on. I got a little annoyed by the timing of her presence.
Now that I was outside of the car, what was I suppose to do? I wasn’t about to go in there and act as if I did something wrong, but I also didn’t want to stay in the cold weather. I contemplated getting back into the car, but starting the car would waste more gas than I want to. So I chose to go for a walk around the block, this would give her time to get her apology ready.
The walk was working, it was making me forget the things that just happened, but it also was making me think of worse things. The past was never easy for me or my family, my father was an abuser and my mother paid for his choices. She would be up all night waiting for him to get home from bingo, in order for him to hit her. One night she left, and I was left there with him. He lost all of his money playing that night, and was angry. I try to forget that nightmare as if it didn’t happen, but every time I close my eyes, I see his hand. His big brass hand hit my flesh multiple times that night, but that wasn’t the worse part. He tied me up and tortured me.
He pulled a cloth out of the closet and put the contents on the desk in the center of the room. He removed the cloth to reveal that he had my mother tied up. She looked at me and began to scream. I couldn’t believe that I thought she left, when he had her in the closet. I tried to free myself, but it wasn’t working, I was forced to sit her as he began to taunt her.
He pulled out his knife from his holster and ran it along her tan skin. A tear formed in her eye, I felt bad for not being able to help her. She began to pull her hand from the rope, but my dad was too fast for that, as he slammed the knife through her palm. Her scream gave me deadly chills through my spine, as I sat there crying. Blood began to pour from her hand onto the ground. She looked into my eyes as he began to laugh. “Get it done!” He shouted “But then what?” He replied to his previous comment. My father seemed to be possessed, but that’s impossible, isn’t it? “Kill her!” He began to yell louder as he lifted the knife. Something stopped him dead in the tracks as he lowered the knife, “I can’t do it!” He moaned in sadness, but then he began to laugh again. During this all, my mother was still trying to get out of the grasp that he had on her. He started to spaz out again, grabbing his head and pulling his hair, still holding the knife that he had just put down. “Nah, I got this!” He dug the long blade into her stomach and began to twist the blade. He began to pull the knife down her torso, the knife was ripping through all of her intestines. The room was splattered with blood, the blood from my mother. I couldn’t comprehend what I witnessed that night. I know the feeling that I had though, my heart hurt, I was mad, I was crushed. I lost my mother that night. I wanted my revenge, but that night was also the last time I saw my dad. He ran out of the room shouting something crazy, it was in another language. The cops never found him, the searched for miles after they got a domestic violence call from my neighbors. They said they saw him running outside with the bloody knife that committed the murder.
I found myself laying on the street at 12 a.m., the night that I left for the walk. I must have fell asleep when I began to think of my mother and father. I couldn’t walk anymore at that point, the pain felt to real. It has been 6 years since that happened, and I still fight with the horror everyday! I don’t know what to do, I have ruined my marriage from not being able to let this go. My wife has been strong throughout this whole situation, but I have been treating her like garbage the last six months. I fought with her father, told him I was going to kill him and his wife for saying something that wasn’t even towards me. I then told her sister that she was a slut, and told her husband that she was a cheater. They recently filed for divorce, and that is my fault. I never liked her family, but I tolerated them for her, but that ended when they took shots at my anger. They told her that it was stupid for her to be with me, due to the fact that I haven’t worked in a year. I have been searching for employment, but it is hard to find a job. Now not only do they hate me, she also hates me. My own wife hates me, and I can do nothing about it. We tried to go through marriage counseling, but that was a waste of time. The therapist was a woman and babied my wife through the whole class, saying that I should give up everything to make her happy, and that I am a bad husband. Now I see it, I am a bad husband, I’m my fathers’ son.
I think about these things on a daily bases, usually I walk to clear my mind, but tonight its not working. I feel more angry since I started walking. Thoughts come through my head, saying I should have stayed home. I feel unsafe, As if I might explode if I go home. But if I don’t go home, then she will think that I cheated, and that would lead to, yet another big fight. I already have to explain why I was out until  12 in the morning. But that will be much easier to do, than to explain why I didn’t come home at all. I walk through our front door and round my way up the stairs. She was sitting on the couch with a cell phone lit up in her hand. The look that she gave was deadly, I knew this was going to turn out well. I smiled, but she didn’t find it funny. “Where have you been?” I shook my head and replied “I had an episode and passed out.” She giggles and spits back “Whatever, another damn episode, get some help…loser.” My blood began to boil, the words that my dad always called me exited her mouth as venom. I lifted my hand in anger, trying to get her to stop, but she didn’t. “Why don’t you get your life together.” I snapped. “Screw you, you are stupid. You can root in hell with your parents.” The room got real quite before she jumped up and began to hit me in the face with her phone. My hands shot up in defense as I tried to get her to stop. She kept hitting me, each time the punches weakened my defense. I blacked out, and began to fight back. I pushed her to the ground and got on top of her. My first hit was an accident, but I enjoyed the feeling it gave me. All the bottled up angrier that I kept inside finally was out. I stopped after three hits, thinking that was the end of the fight. But then out of nowhere, she nailed me in the balls with her knee and attempted to get up. I grabbed her leg and pulled it back down. I was the stronger of the two, so I forced my way off the ground, and walked into the kitchen. This was a clear attempt to get away from her, but she followed as she threw a glass at me. It missed and smashed into the wall. I shouted a few words, then she attacked again. She grabbed the knife off the counter and lunged the tip towards me, she missed. I lowered my elbow into her forearm forcing the blade to the ground. She reached for the handle, my knee implanted into her stomach. She fell to the ground. This time I got on top of her. I was trying to get her to stop before something bad happened. She clawed at me, scratching the inside of my eye. My vision went red, my eye was fully covered in blood from the inside. My body got weak as I grabbed the frying pan from the cover. I swung one time, slamming the flat plate against her skull, she was knocked out. I thought that was the end, I was surely going to jail, my marriage was over. I began to spaz out, thinking to myself “What can I do?” So I took the knife and plummeted it into her gut, she arose from her sleep, screaming in agony. I apologized as I twisted the blade and drug it down her gut. Her eyes turned lifeless, her lips turned blue. I had to think fast on what I could do to not go to jail, then I thought of the perfect plan. I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote:
“Don’t come looking for me. I am Larry Olsen, Travis Olsen’s dad. If I find out that you came looking for me, I will kill Travis as I killed Rebecca, his wife. I have longed for the day that I could have my son back into my arms, and nothing will take him from me again. This is why she had to die, she held him back from me.”
I left the note on her dead body, after I tied her up and put a bag over her head. I took the knife with me so they couldn’t take the DNA off the evidence. The cops will see this as a strike against my father, and I can go on living my own life again. I will move states and pray that no one in her family sees me out-and-about. What if they do though? I ask myself instantly. I would like to think I would let them be, say they are insane and go on with my day, but the true answer is; if anyone spots me, that’s where they stand alone, dead. The same way my mother laid, and the same way that Rebecca lays now. I didn’t want to do this tonight, but like I said before; I am my fathers son!