The Drivel Thread

Mozmar

Well-Known Member
Spiked Orange Juice

One night, at the Carousel strip club in Oshawa, Ontario, someone spiked my drink. I was in my motel room, which was in the same building as the club, and I was asleep in bed. I was awoken by the sound of the doorknob being fiddled with.

That wasn't what most alarmed me though. What did frighten me more than someone trying to get into my room, was that I found myself paralyzed. I couldn't even open my eyes, though I was aware, sober, and could feel my heart racing. I told myself to just let go, and accept whatever was about to happen, so that my heart would calm down. My greatest fear became having a heart attack from fright.

So I did calm down, and fell back to sleep, only to be woken again by the rattling of the back doorknob leading to the parking lot. Again I could not move a muscle, and again I told myself to accept fate, to calm my heart. I fell back to sleep.

The next time I woke, I could move, immediately seized the phone, called my boyfriend in Montreal, and sobbed. I vaguely remember reading in the local news that a stripper had been taken from the Carousel, gang raped and killed in the woods. But what happened to me is crystal clear. I never went to the police. It never even occurred to me at the time. I don't remember what I did, the following morning. High tailed it back to Montreal probably. Did I imagine the newspaper article about the murder? I didn't imagine my drink having been spiked.

I don't remember if something I witnessed fit the timeline of the spiking, but it was a man in the club while it was flooded with men, and he passed my fellow stripper, and said to her "But I don't love YOU!", spitefully. Was she killed? Was he one of the killers? I didn't even know her name. I'm going to Google about that newspaper article I think I read.
:eyes: 🔎
 

Surface

Vegan Cro’s parents regret the condom splitting
Spiked Orange Juice

One night, at the Carousel strip club in Oshawa, Ontario, someone spiked my drink. I was in my motel room, which was in the same building as the club, and I was asleep in bed. I was awoken by the sound of the doorknob being fiddled with.

That wasn't what most alarmed me though. What did frighten me more than someone trying to get into my room, was that I found myself paralyzed. I couldn't even open my eyes, though I was aware, sober, and could feel my heart racing. I told myself to just let go, and accept whatever was about to happen, so that my heart would calm down. My greatest fear became having a heart attack from fright.

So I did calm down, and fell back to sleep, only to be woken again by the rattling of the back doorknob leading to the parking lot. Again I could not move a muscle, and again I told myself to accept fate, to calm my heart. I fell back to sleep.

The next time I woke, I could move, immediately seized the phone, called my boyfriend in Montreal, and sobbed. I vaguely remember reading in the local news that a stripper had been taken from the Carousel, gang raped and killed in the woods. But what happened to me is crystal clear. I never went to the police. It never even occurred to me at the time. I don't remember what I did, the following morning. High tailed it back to Montreal probably. Did I imagine the newspaper article about the murder? I didn't imagine my drink having been spiked.

I don't remember if something I witnessed fit the timeline of the spiking, but it was a man in the club while it was flooded with men, and he passed my fellow stripper, and said to her "But I don't love YOU!", spitefully. Was she killed? Was he one of the killers? I didn't even know her name. I'm going to Google about that newspaper article I think I read.

Was it Brandon Flowers?
 

rifke

bodhisattva
What a pack of lies
 

Light Housework

useless eater
Jim was physically gentle, and generally kind. He thought I worked out just to boost my sex appeal though, so he didn't want to work out with me. This was in Toronto. He lived in a disused canteen truck he had a parking spot for, in a gravel parking lot behind a huge liquor store. I forget how I met him, but he was short, cuddly, clean, neat, and he didn't recoil when I told him I had herpes. I never had an outbreak other than the two times I was freshly infected, with two different strains, from two different men. But at the time, I believed it was only a matter of time before I got an outbreak. Turned out not to be true.

I was living in a homeless shelter, and would drop in on Jim. Sometimes he wasn't home, and I would eat his vegan dry food, and wouldn't be able to stop. Raw almonds, dates. Once I went up onto the canteen's roof, and handed almonds to a family of raccoons that would climb onto the roof from the overhanging trees. I used to read his books on fasting, mucous free diet, etc.

When I asked him to come work out with me up on the train tracks, he declared that I only did it for superficial reasons. He'll never know how hurt I was by that statement, because I wasn't very verbal at the time. I was like a wild animal. I used to get high from running on the tracks in the dark, with Echo and the Bunnymen on my Walkman. I don't know how I never tripped. I would run to the canteen. I loved Jim. But I could sense his guilty feelings about me seducing him. That was emotionally off putting, because it painted me out to be a corrupting influence on him. Big turn off. It made me want to avoid him.

So one day I was in the canteen alone, and his friend Peter shows up. He invites me to the forest nearby. I take him up on it, and we work out in a playground. I admire his build, and healthy drive to work out. He takes me to his apartment, near the top of a high rise. The place is completely cluttered. I help him clean it up. Then we go to bed, and he says he has to smoke pot before having sex. I figured being seduced by another man would relieve Jim of my bad influence, so here I was, plunging in. I don't remember if we actually ended up having sex or not. If we did, it must have been hum drum.

I moved in with Peter, and started working temporary jobs in factories. One day, I rearranged the contents of the fridge, and when Peter saw, he was incensed, and demanded I go through the courtyard to the all night supermarket and buy fresh eggs, because now that I'd rearranged the eggs in the fridge, he didn't know which ones were stale. It was 2am, but I went, and instead of taking the elevator back up, I decided to get some exercise and climb the stairs. I come out of the stairwell, and guess who's sitting in the common hall sulkily glaring at me? He says "You took the stairs? I'm waiting for you and you take the stairs?"

He grabs the dozen eggs and flings them against the wall. We ended up cleaning it that night, before anyone saw. He threatened to throw my clothes out the window. When a friend of his showed up the next day, I announced I was leaving. The friend called me a Princess Dianna. I felt sorry for him, having Peter as a friend. Peter surprised me, by giving me $25 to ease my transition. I went to a women's shelter.

Another time I was with Jim, my ex boyfriend Charlie showed up, while I was going to school and living in a house owned by the school. The ex pushed seduction on me though I made it clear I wanted to stay monogamous with Jim. After having sex with him, he bugged me to pose naked for him to take pictures. He'd tell me how to pose, insisting that he knew what men wanted to see. It just felt awkward, and when I saw the developed photos, I wasn't impressed. I looked unhappy and enslaved, and not well treated. Neglected. Dismissed. Laughed at. A doormat. Is that what men want? Apparently some think they do.

I think I saw Jim ride by Charlie and I on his bicycle. I felt it was a shame that Charlie had come and surprised me from Montreal, and clearly I had trouble standing up to him. I'm confused about the timeline, but I guess I went crawling back to Jim when Charlie left to go back to Montreal. I can't remember the timeline.
 

The.Truth.

about Ruth
Jim was physically gentle, and generally kind. He thought I worked out just to boost my sex appeal though, so he didn't want to work out with me. This was in Toronto. He lived in a disused canteen truck he had a parking spot for, in a gravel parking lot behind a huge liquor store. I forget how I met him, but he was short, cuddly, clean, neat, and he didn't recoil when I told him I had herpes. I never had an outbreak other than the two times I was freshly infected, with two different strains, from two different men. But at the time, I believed it was only a matter of time before I got an outbreak. Turned out not to be true.

I was living in a homeless shelter, and would drop in on Jim. Sometimes he wasn't home, and I would eat his vegan dry food, and wouldn't be able to stop. Raw almonds, dates. Once I went up onto the canteen's roof, and handed almonds to a family of raccoons that would climb onto the roof from the overhanging trees. I used to read his books on fasting, mucous free diet, etc.

When I asked him to come work out with me up on the train tracks, he declared that I only did it for superficial reasons. He'll never know how hurt I was by that statement, because I wasn't very verbal at the time. I was like a wild animal. I used to get high from running on the tracks in the dark, with Echo and the Bunnymen on my Walkman. I don't know how I never tripped. I would run to the canteen. I loved Jim. But I could sense his guilty feelings about me seducing him. That was emotionally off putting, because it painted me out to be a corrupting influence on him. Big turn off. It made me want to avoid him.

So one day I was in the canteen alone, and his friend Peter shows up. He invites me to the forest nearby. I take him up on it, and we work out in a playground. I admire his build, and healthy drive to work out. He takes me to his apartment, near the top of a high rise. The place is completely cluttered. I help him clean it up. Then we go to bed, and he says he has to smoke pot before having sex. I figured being seduced by another man would relieve Jim of my bad influence, so here I was, plunging in. I don't remember if we actually ended up having sex or not. If we did, it must have been hum drum.

I moved in with Peter, and started working temporary jobs in factories. One day, I rearranged the contents of the fridge, and when Peter saw, he was incensed, and demanded I go through the courtyard to the all night supermarket and buy fresh eggs, because now that I'd rearranged the eggs in the fridge, he didn't know which ones were stale. It was 2am, but I went, and instead of taking the elevator back up, I decided to get some exercise and climb the stairs. I come out of the stairwell, and guess who's sitting in the common hall sulkily glaring at me? He says "You took the stairs? I'm waiting for you and you take the stairs?"

He grabs the dozen eggs and flings them against the wall. We ended up cleaning it that night, before anyone saw. He threatened to throw my clothes out the window. When a friend of his showed up the next day, I announced I was leaving. The friend called me a Princess Dianna. I felt sorry for him, having Peter as a friend. Peter surprised me, by giving me $25 to ease my transition. I went to a women's shelter.

Another time I was with Jim, my ex boyfriend Charlie showed up, while I was going to school and living in a house owned by the school. The ex pushed seduction on me though I made it clear I wanted to stay monogamous with Jim. After having sex with him, he bugged me to pose naked for him to take pictures. He'd tell me how to pose, insisting that he knew what men wanted to see. It just felt awkward, and when I saw the developed photos, I wasn't impressed. I looked unhappy and enslaved, and not well treated. Neglected. Dismissed. Laughed at. A doormat. Is that what men want? Apparently some think they do.

I think I saw Jim ride by Charlie and I on his bicycle. I felt it was a shame that Charlie had come and surprised me from Montreal, and clearly I had trouble standing up to him. I'm confused about the timeline, but I guess I went crawling back to Jim when Charlie left to go back to Montreal. I can't remember the timeline.
Charlie Manson?
 

Light Housework

useless eater
Charlie chased me around the block in his wheelchair, and I in my pajamas. He had the most infuriated red face all the while. I checked myself into a battered women's shelter. He started calling the shelter for me. He abused me down the phone. I'd hang up and he'd call back.

The next day I went to get some clothes from Charlie's apartment. I made sure he was on his bed, so I'd have time to outrun him should he come after me. As I was packing, he talked. I'd listen to a couple of words here and there, and it dawned on me that his threats of suicide were genuine. I asked him a few questions to be sure, and decided by his answers that he was being peaceful and genuine about intending to kill himself.

I felt it was safe to sit on the bed with him, and I asked him if he was sure there's nothing he would miss, and he said no. I promised not to call the authorities on him, and vowed to return in the morning to collect his dog, as Charlie would be dead. Also, I said I would look for a sign, that he wanted to live, if he were still alive.

I got back late to the shelter, and was told I could sleep there that night, but that I'd lost my bed afterward, due to my lateness. I explained that my boyfriend was suicidal and I had felt it was important to talk with him about it, which caused me to be late, that it had been an emergency. But no, I lost my bed as of the next morning.

First thing in the morning, I went to check on Charlie, hoping for his sake he'd succeeded in offing himself. I found him leaning back in his wheelchair, unconscious. I lifted his eyelids and spoke to him. I thought he was brain dead though he was still breathing. I'd promised to let him go, so took his dog and left.

As I was walking with the dog, toward what was supposed to be my first appointment with a therapist, my tears were like a river, and I rushed back to Charlie's apartment for a towel to sop up the water pouring down my face. Luke, Charlie's neighbor, was in the hall and said Charlie had been knocking on doors during the night, asking for help, and that I needed to call an ambulance.

I told Luke that I'd given Charlie my word, that I wouldn't stop his exit from his misery, but Luke insisted, and the paramedics came, and saved him as I told them to let him go. He stayed comatose in hospital several days, with what looked like coat hangers skewered through his right hand. It turned out his circulation had been cut off and his hand had exploded or something, so they wired the bones. I let out a silent scream. I didn't want to bother the attendant by piercing his ears. My mouth and eyes opened wide but no sound came out. The attendant observed this.

I was just starting to listen to cassette tapes of Charlie's last words he'd recorded for me, when a gang of Charlie's so called friends broke in, held my hands behind my back and demanded the cassettes. Afterward they would call, and tell me I was dead meat, and I'd get a hot poker shoved up my c***.

One friend of his, Stephan, and his girlfriend Liz, came by and took me to Stephan's apartment to take refuge from the gang. At one point, when Liz wasn't there, Stephan used his right middle finger on my clitorus, seamlessly. No kissing, no hugging, no reciprocation. Out of the blue. No words. No romance. Just as natural as having a dump. Maybe I should have returned the favor, but it happened so slickly. Reciprocating didn't feel natural at the time.

One of Stephan's neighbors had a party, and I was nursing a beer, when my eyes ran up the slit of the dress a transvestite was wearing. Then we made eye contact, and he said, with his eyes, that there was the issue of the guy next to me, a very young man who was clinging to me. So I left to go back to Stephan's. In the morning though, we gathered, a bunch of people in their day attire. The transvestite was now dressed as a male.

We walked to a cafe, and as I was lagging behind, the man, Francois, took my hand. In the cafe, our language barrier tripped me up. Him French, me English, but both having eyes, we marvelled at an exhibitionist type guy, and I took it the wrong way. I thought he meant he was sorry, but he fancied men, not me, so I prowled around for a heterosexual man who'd find me attractive. I found no takers, so I left the cafe, with Francois looking at me stunned.

I went stripping for a week, and when I returned, I called Stephan, and he said I couldn't come over, because Francois had trashed his place, and was having a nervous breakdown.

Charlie woke up, and his phoney friends stopped harassing me when he told them what happened.
 

The.Truth.

about Ruth
I made a really long vocaroo and then found that the microphone started making noise about halfway through so it's trash. I have better microphones but it doesn't feel natural to set them up and speak into them.
 
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