Tales Told by John Doe

Hello, people. I am happy to announce that, because of the nature of this thread, I could not find a single location to place it aside from in Forum Games. Please be aware that this is a little more serious than forum games, but it can also be funny, too. First, I would like to explain the name. The name 'John Doe' for men, or 'Jane Doe' for women, are placeholder names in which the actual identity of the person is unknown. In this case, those of us on the forum are all John/Jane Doe, because our real names are unknown. The point of this thread is to tell stories of events that happened to you in real life, no less than a paragraph (Five sentences) in length. However, you will not mention any names. In order to mention a person whose name is removed, place a false name in quotation marks, and move on. You might think that this is a rather boring forum game, but you'd actually be quite surprised by how interesting real life actually is. Just keep in mind, that you must not reveal hints as to where you live, because your identity must remain unknown. This is a rule on internet safety, so don't violate it. You may, however, share your personal thoughts and opinions.

Since you need an example, I'll tell a short story, first. Keep in mind that no matter how crazy something is, it is completely true.



When I woke up this morning, I wasn't really sure if I was actually awake, or dreaming. I had drifted in and out of sleep all night, and my sense of time, as always, was distorted by it. The main issue was that for some reason, my alarm clock was barely audible, and the volume dial had been mysteriously turned down, and I wondered for a moment if it was the alarm that had made me wake up, or the simple fact that I wasn't sleeping well and was used to waking up at five in the morning. I don't exactly know how it works. If you wake up at one time every single day, it's like your brain remembers it and you start waking up at that time, even if there isn't an alarm going off. Actually, I kind of find it annoying. There's no point in waking up that early on a Saturday, but sure enough, it's happened to me, and I wind up spending three hours doing nothing in my bedroom, waiting for my parents to wake up so I can go do things and not worry about disturbing them in their sleep. When they finally wake up, my Dad lectures me because I didn't start a pot of coffee for them, but of course, the reason I didn't was because I didn't want to make too much noise.

Regardless, I woke up to a near-silent alarm playing music to a song I've heard so many times I know the first verse by heart. I don't let it get any further, because by that point I've gotten out of bed and turned it off before I have to deal with any more noise. Of course, I made sure to turn it up to a higher volume this time, before turning it off, so I wouldn't accidentally sleep through it tomorrow. Really, I could probably get up thirty minutes later, at five-thirty, but I don't, because I don't enjoy rushing when I get ready. I then put on my outfit for the day, along with my bulky jacket I wear all winter, in about five minutes (I don't think I'm exaggerating, not much of a point in selecting the shirt if the coat covers it all day). I go and brush my hair and teeth (I don't do makeup and that sort of thing), and head to the kitchen. I put leftovers in a lunchbox and then it goes in my backpack. Then I get a cup of coffee loaded with milk and sugar, and that's my whole morning routine. Obviously, I didn't eat any breakfast, but considering we eat lunch at ten in the morning, I don't see the point.

When I go to school, I walk to the bus stop, and my hands begin to turn blue, and go numb, one of them clutching my library book. This is perfectly normal for me, not so much for other people. When I wrote characters in Roleplays that had Reynold's Syndrome (Or Reynold's Phenomenon, apparently), I was describing my own issues. I actually do have it, and it's torture to go out in the cold, because I freeze much faster than most people. I don't have that much weird discoloration on my hands and feet, which apparently affects most people with it, but my joints do turn blue when it's cold, or red when it's blistering hot. The soles of my feet are also yellow, which I am positive isn't the right color. If you touch someone's hand, it's supposed to be warm. In my case, most of the time, people touch my hands and flinch back, because they're actually quite cold. It's been that way since I was a baby. I wait in the frigid cold for several minutes, and the bus comes. I get on, and say hello to my bus driver, like I do every morning, before swinging into the very front seat, so I don't get stuck in the back with crazy people.

And that is how my morning starts almost every day.

Well I can't say I got much of a morning routine. But most mornings my sister comes and knocks on my door about 8:30 the make sure I'm up, most mornings I'm not. I'm stuck somewhere in the land of sleep and not wanting to wake up. Then I drag myself out if bed and emerge from my room about nine. Then I eat a light breakfast. Normally a Nuttybar or a snack cake. After that my day is mostly free time anymore. I have a few chores to do but the rest of the day I either got my nose in a book or in my DS or my iPod since I got them both for Christmas. Then my nephew comes over about 6 or 7 everyday and stays the night. We play Call of DITY OR assassins creed on playstation most of the time.

And if y'all ain't figured it out yet I got ADHD

Hey, my name's John Doe. You dont know me. Deal with it.


So, I'm gonna tell you a story about me a year back at a summer camp in Georgia. Me, being fourteen at the time, was a big adrenaline junkie.


So I had decided to take a reptile and amphibian class because it's something I know more about that the teacher, and I could pretty much sleep through the class, as we had to get up a seven thirty sharp, and I normally sleep until noon at least. One night however, we went on a 'field trip' where went wean all across the camp ground (Which was probably 2+ miles in diameter). Wait, it gets better.


We're going reptile hunting at night for a final exam.


I dont know if the instructors were either half retarded, or if the horrible food had gone to their heads, but going reptile hunting at night is probably not good idea, considering that there is all kinds of crap out there in the dark (We had a few bobcats one time).

But, being the idiot I am, I went anyway.


So we're going along, and we decide to split up, my catches are two big bullfrogs which we had turned in, allowing us to get a passing grade. But, because I liked reptiles, I continued on after turning in my catches.

I should've turned in for the night.

As I was moving along under a tree, I heard some movement in the underbrush near it's trunk. So, I went to investigate. As I kneeled down and placed my hand on the ground to support myself, WHAM! Something nailed my arm.

It hurt, a lot.

Of course, as soon as it let go, I was hauling my way back to camp.


I told the Instructor about what happened, and he called someone on his radio, and made a tourniquet on my arm. A man on a golf cart of something soon pulled up and me and the instructor got on. A few minutes later I was being carried into the infirmary to be treated for whatever had bitten me.

See, they didn't call nine one one or anything because the camp was many miles away from the nearest hospital, and they had, apparently, prepared for something like this.

It turned out, I had been bitten by a (Water Moccasin)Cottonmouth snake based on the space between the puncture wounds on my arm. Luckiest of all, it had been a dry bite, and the snake had not injected any venom.



So there you have it.

An account of how I was bitten by a Cottonmouth snake at a summer camp. Did I change my ways and try to be more careful?


Nope.

I still catch snakes and other reptiles and insects today. I have had some interesting adventures that could easily go toe to toe with this one.

But that is a story for another day.

Edited out for not only abiding by the forum game rules, but because of the preschool grammar.

-TheOp

Well that's more exciting than any things that ever happened toe, unless you count getting the crap beat out of me by a 57 year old guy.

Well, I have another story, branching off John's story about the cottonmouth.

Awhile back, the neighbor we have who lives across the street from us called my mom, around five in the morning. He was terrified, and told her that there was a snake in his bathroom. She asked him what happened, and he told her he had just walked in, and it was slithering around on the floor. He told her he had managed to throw a towel over it and hit it with a newspaper, but wanted her to come over and help him get rid of it, because he was worried it was still alive, and he knew that I had been keeping two snakes as pets.

Well, my mother went over, and knocked on the door, and when he opened it, he was holding a shot gun! Now, I know it sounds crazy, but it happened. He just pointed my mom towards the bathroom and told her it was under the towel. By this point, I had come over, because somehow mom had called me at home, not too long after I had woken up and gotten ready for the day, (It was a Saturday, so I was just wearing an old T-shirt and shorts). A few moments later, mom came out and showed me the towel, while the neighbor was still inside, probably checking to see if there were any more of the creatures still crawling around.

When I looked into the towel, I felt like laughing, and then crying at the same time. It was a baby corn snake, no thicker or longer than a pencil, and it was still alive, albeit dazed and disoriented from being hit by the newspaper. The tiny creature was harmless, and the neighbor had been so scared of it he had almost considered shooting it. My mom and I released it in the grass near the woods, and we told the neighbor it was likely going to die. He then asked my mom to make sure to tell everyone it was a large snake, although it was more of a nervous joke. I didn't say anything, but when we came outside again, the snake was already gone. I still laugh about the whole thing today.

Just doing my job mate, dont hate me, hate the system.

Gaylord wrote:

Edited out for not only abiding by the forum game rules, but because of the preschool grammar.

-TheOp

Ouch!



Anyways, hm... good story... got it. Note that this story is true, but unrealistic. It was just a freak of nature, i suppose.

A little ambiance:




The skies over my town

A war is brewing. I could feel it in the air one bright July morning. Something was up. Something wasn't right. You see, the neighborhood that I live in is dominated by two species of birds; black crows and redtail hawks (at least I think they're red tails). Well, the hawks, being predators, will actually hunt the crows, and crows, being remarkably intelligent, will actually remember which hawk killed and ate their buddy. So, it's not uncommon to see aerial battles between a hawk and a flock of five or so crows over my house, and occasionally dead crows and injured hawks will be scattered around.

But this was something different. On one side of the street, in a patch of trees, sat several murders of crows, all completely silent. On the other side of the street, sitting on a power line, was at least ten hawks. I know that hawks are normally solitary animals, which made it exceptionally weird. At first, I thought it was some kind of joke. I mean, come on! That many hawks don't sit in the same area, do they?

That's when it happened. The crows leapt from off of the trees and charged towards the hawk, who soared to meet them. There was a nearly five minute aerial battle between the hawk and crows with no clearly distinguished winner. For days, dead crows (and one hawk) were littered around the street. The hawks suddenly stopped hunting the crows, and the crows didn't go into the patch of woods behind my house, which seemed to belong to the hawks.

Well I a uh don't remember this event too clearly. It happens when I was 4 or 5. But I've been told about it by my mom. When I was little I loved turtles. They were and still are my favorite animal. We kept them all the time. We'd find them wherever and keep them for a few days before letting them go. Why I still like them after this I dunno, most folks would've been trumatized by and event like this. But not me, I ain't right in the head.

It's not really a long story. This is mostly fluff as a matter of fact.

Everybody was doing something and I was alone in the living room just playing with my turtles. I dunno why I desided to, but I tried to kiss the turtle on the head. It didn't work, when I kissed it it bite me on the tong. And it latched on and didn't let go. Now with me being little I naturally went beserk screaming. I don't know how long it took, but eventually my mom and step dad came running. My mom even called 911,cuz when a turtle bits it doesn't let go till thunder strikes or that's how the tall tale goes. Anyways in the end we had to use a of pliers to break its jaw and remove it from my tong.

The worse pArt? My mom was laughing the whole time.

Well i have a story a love story gone wrong

Well this was back in highschool of course and i decided to take guitar class so i met this chick who was weird but i like wierd so its ok. anyway me being me i happend to fall in love with her (after like 2 days) she was weird because she belive it or not had a religon where she belived in a flying spagtti monster. no joke but it gets better she had to wear a pirate costume every friday again this is not a joke and i dont really know any specifics of the religon other than that.

anyway i didnt care about that at the time nor do i now but after the second day i kinda aske her to me my girlfriend luckily she said yes even though she told me it was kinda wierd but i was happy that she said yes so you know we dated for about a week before we broke up before she kinda told me that she tried to like me but she just wasn' into men that much *sigh* and so there you have it and all of it true btw

Ouch man, that sucks. Although that spaghetti and wearing pirate costume....
She was a member of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster or Pastafarianism
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