Walmart d-day

Part 1 // Part 2
I paced my bedroom floor wondering what I should do next. I’d already placed the leg back in the gun safe, then searched the entirety of my house looking for something Christian to place on top of it. It seemed to work in the movies and I didn’t really have any idea what else to do. I couldn’t find any religious paraphernalia of any kind, so I ended up fashioning a small crucifix out of two large carrots and hot glue with a little Jesus made out of raisins.
I needed a plan! I was thinking about who might know more information about the artifact I’d come into possession of, then it hit me – all of my competitors!
Surely not all of them were fakes like me!
One by one, I called them up and set up meetings for that afternoon – staggered appointments of course.
The first one to show up was a woman named Destiny. I sent her home immediately after she tracked dog shit into my house from the bottom of her shoes. I will not work with someone who is not only rude but completely oblivious.
The second one was a guy named Tiger, which I thought was a badass name and he was a pretty cool guy. Too bad he failed every test I threw at him. I sent him home, but kept his number in case I wanted to try to connect with him sometime to hangout.
The third psychic was a total nutcase named Psycho Jimmy. I’m honestly not even sure if he was a medium or if google search just lumped the words ‘Psychic’ and ‘Psycho’ into the same page due to a lack of results.
He didn’t say a word to me the entire time. He came into my house, drank a glass of water, walked a lap around the living room, stared directly into my eyes, unblinking, for a solid thirty seconds, then simply left. Total fucking psycho indeed. And yes, I did upgrade my security system shortly after meeting him.
Out of options I reluctantly called Destiny back, even if she did smell like dog poop.
To my surprise, she didn’t smell like shit when she showed back up to my house. She explained to me that it wasn’t her that smelled but it was, in fact, the ghost of her dead dog, Hercules, that followed her around. She further explained that last winter, her dog passed away peacefully in his sleep. She was distraught, but thought it would be in bad taste to leave a dead dog lying on her living room floor, so she loaded the carcass up into a cardboard box along with his favorite blanket and a few toys. Then she sealed the top of the box with packing tape so animals couldn’t get in, and left the box out on her front porch where the cold December weather would keep him fresh for a day until she could gather herself long enough to make arrangements.
Porch pirates showed up not an hour later and stole the box off of her porch thinking they just scored a nice heavy Amazon delivery. I can’t imagine how they must have felt to open it up and find a dead dog.
Now Hercules walks the Earth as a ghost, unable to rest until he has his revenge against those that stole his bones away from his loving mother.
“Uh, okay, that’s…” I had no idea what to say in response to hearing such an insane story, “Well, can you have Hercules stay outside please?”
“Yeah, no problem,” She replied before bending at the waist to pet an invisible dog and whisper loving comments into its ears before following me into my kitchen.
“So how do I know you’re legit?” Was the first question I asked her when we were both seated at the table.
“Because I can see the ghost that is standing in your bedroom door,” She replied calmly.
I spun around in my chair towards my bedroom door just in time to watch it violently slam itself shut.
“You’re hired!”
I re-capped the entire situation to Destiny, who asked to see the leg.
She recoiled as soon as I placed it on the table in front of her, “You didn’t tell me it’s upholstered in human flesh” she said, “Pretty big detail to leave out”
“It is?” I asked.
She pointed to a pinkish brown blemish on the leather that covered the back thigh of the leg, “There is literally a nipple on it”
Closer inspection showed that she was right. The leg did indeed have a nipple on it.
“And here is a tattoo,” she said pointing at a heart shaped blemish. If you looked closely, you could just barely make out the words, “Mommy’s Home”. “Look I don’t know what this leg is, but I know a professor at my old college who might know,” Destiny said, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the nipple. “He specializes in ancient pagan literature and has several books bound with human skin in his collection. If anyone knows anything about this, it has to be him.”
With no other avenues to go down, I agreed a talk with this professor would be a good place to start.
Destiny left my house promising to call me tomorrow to let me know if her old professor had replied to her request to meet. Once again, I was alone with the leg.
Looking at the leg filled me with a strange sort of terror that I hadn’t felt since I was kid. The kind of helplessness you would feel as a child when you lost your mom in the mall, or when you were so sure that the shadow in the corner of your bedroom was a monster lying in wait until the moment you cross from wakefulness into sleep.
I brought the leg back to the gun safe and locked it away before leaving my house for the day. I didn’t have much in the way of errands, but I didn’t even want to be in the same building as the leg.
I wasted the day trying to get my mind off the absolute shit storm of a week I’d had so far. Ghosts, monsters, demons and God knows what else is real. How is someone supposed to just accept that and move forward with their lives? What else might be out there? Is God real? If so, that might be the scariest thing of all.
I went to the movies, but couldn’t pay attention. I went to my favorite restaurant, but didn’t have an appetite. I tried to go go-karting, but couldn’t get over how strange it was to go go-karting by myself. I spent the entire day thinking about how my inbox was full of things I’d thought were fake but now would never fully get over.
Eventually the sun fell and I found myself standing on my front porch trying to come up with any excuse to go and spend money on a hotel room. I almost did, but realized I was too broke to get one even if I wanted to.
A creeping dread wormed its way up my back as I walked through the dark house flipping lights on as went. I checked each room to make sure nothing had moved the positions I had left them in that morning. Looking back, I’m not sure if at that point I was more afraid of a ghost or demon or Psycho Jimmy in my house. Everything seemed to check out.
Feeling slightly better, but still a bit anxious I went to bed.
I woke up in total darkness, in the early morning. I could hear the wind in the trees. I turned over to squint at my alarm clock when the sound of my bedroom door unlatching made my stomach drop. In a flash I shot up in bed and tried to flip on the lamp on my nightstand only to find the light bulb had been removed.
I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight and directed the light at the door. The door was, indeed, unlatched and cracked open just a sliver. I sat in total silence, watching the small black crack between the door and the door frame, my ears strained to pick up any noise other than the wind outside.
My jaw dropped as the door slowly creaked forward, opening itself just wide enough for a head to peek into the room, but no one was there, just the empty blackness of the dark hallway beyond. My hands shook as I stared at the doorway, hoping something would come through, anything – a monster, a zombie, Psycho Jimmy. Anything would be better than the dread of sitting there in anticipation, my imagination conjuring up the worst. My heart was pounding against my ribcage and my mouth went dry. I gripped my phone with two hands to try to steady the shaking, but still they trembled, sending shadows dancing across my bedroom walls.
Then the door closed, just as slowly as it had opened, the door pulled itself back into its frame and latched itself closed.
Realizing I had forgotten to breathe, I sucked in air like a dying fish. I licked my lips and loosened my grip on my phone but my hands were still trembling and I dropped it. The phone bounced off the corner of my nightstand, hit the carpeted floor and bounced again under my bed.
A whole new set of shadows filled the room as the bright, fluorescent white light of the iPhone flashlight emanated from under my dirty bed.
It might sound weird, but this was almost as bad as the door opening by itself. The loss of control was devastating in the moment and I lunged over the side of the bed and blindly flailed my arm around searching for the phone.
My thrashing arm sent a wholly new set of shadows dancing around my room pushing my pulse even higher.
I’d never regretted not cleaning my room harder. I was wildly grabbing things and flinging them out from under the bed as soon as I confirmed they weren’t a cell phone. Magazines, old electronics and a few rock-hard socks flew across the room as I shoveled them out from under the bed. I continued to grasp blindly when my hand came across something I didn’t immediately recognize. It was a mess of tangled stringy material that seemed to grab at my hand as I brushed past it. I gripped and tugged hard to bring it out onto my bedroom floor, but encountered resistance as whatever it was seemed to cling to its secret refuge under my bed. I reestablished my grip on the object and pulled again, harder this time. I engaged the muscles in my stomach and back and just as it seemed the object would never relent a loud POP! echoed through the room as the object came free in my hand.
Startled and thrown off balance, I fell off my bed and sprawled onto the carpet below with the object still in my hand. I looked down at it and my blood turned to ice as I realized I was holding a woman’s head, her face frozen in surprise, her mouth a wide ‘O”.
I dropped the head and scrambled backwards on my butt until my back hit the opposite wall. It was only then I realized it was the head of a sex doll I had ordered 4 years ago, but never used. (It was too weird. Maybe guys who like sex dolls, would also like fucking dead bodies. Not for me!). Her name was Cynthia. I had hidden her under my bed in shame shortly after bringing her home and had forgotten about her. It’s not like a life-size doll is something you can easily throw away without the neighbors asking questions.
I relaxed at that moment. A wave of relief and amusement washed over me and I made a vow to get rid of Cynthia that weekend. Even if that meant I had to cut her into pieces and dispose of her in separate trash bags thrown into separate dumpsters like some sort of mannequin serial killer.
I started to get back up on my feet when the shadows danced around the room again. I glanced toward the space under the bed and saw the light was moving. Something under my bed had control of my phone.
Blinded by the light which was now pointed directly at me, I squinted my eyes to try to make out what fresh new terror was about to befall me. Slowly a form came into shape. A contorted silhouette that writhed in the confined space. It banged against the bed frame above it as it tried to right itself. The light moved, left, right, up, down as the dark shape twisted violently, but it always pointed the light directly into my eyes without fail.
For a moment, the noises below the bed stopped and the light remained still. The only noises audible were my own breathing and the wind that continued to whip the trees outside. I used my hand to shield my eyes from the now stable point of light and the shape solidified into a new form. It was a person crouched low. A Headless person. It was Cynthia.
She began to slowly crawl towards me. My heart skipped a beat as fear paralyzed me for a half second. Cynthia moved closer, moving in a jerky, unnatural motion because I hadn’t opted for the RealGirl™ realistic joint package.
My heart skipped another beat as curiosity paralyzed me for another half a second. Would it really be so bad to let her get to me? What would she do? Fuck me to death? Then I remembered she had fully articulated hands and a skeleton made out of titanium which snapped me out of it pretty quickly.
Cynthia dragged herself along, now halfway out from under the bed, my cellphone in hand.
I leapt into action. I sprang to my feet, took a few steps towards her and kicked at her. Unfortunately, it was dark and I aimed where a head would have been had this been a real person, or a fully-functional sex doll, and broke a toe on my metal bed frame.
Cynthia grabbed for me, but I quickly took a step back and she narrowly missed, her silicone fingers just brushing the skin of my leg. I tried another kick and this time aimed for my cellphone. I connected and sent the phone sliding across the bedroom carpet where it collided with the wall with such force that it flipped itself over landing the flashlight side-down.
The room plunged into darkness with the exception of the small light of my iPhone lock screen. I needed to get to the phone before the lock screen went dark in about 10 seconds, otherwise I would probably never find it.
I made a dash for the phone, but Cynthia caught my ankle sending me crashing to the floor. I couldn’t look back. I needed that phone, that light. Even if it was only so I could see how I was going to die I needed it. Worst case scenario, if I decided I didn’t like what I was seeing, I could always just turn the light off.
Not even wasting the time to stand back up, I crawled for my phone. I could hear the joints in Cynthia’s arms and legs squeak as she emerged from the bed behind me and stood herself up. (When I ordered her, they said the squeaking would fade with use, but like I said, I never used her, I want to make that very clear!) Still, I didn’t look back, I crawled forward, not paying attention to the rug burn on my knees or the pain that radiated up my leg from my broken toe or the 6 foot (tall girls, call me!) murderous sex bot that was standing itself up a mere few feet behind me. I need that phone.
I slammed my hand on the phone just as the light from the home screen faded away and I turned and pointed the flashlight at Cynthia.
She stood tall on her two feet, wearing a tattered and dusty school girl outfit (I’m different now), one large pendulous breast hung outside of her brassiere.
I was done for. Toast. Stick a fork in me. I was lying on my back, looking up at a killer dominatrix with a titanium skeleton, no head and zero pain receptors. All she had to do was fall forward and she’d be on top of me, strangling me with her delicate, perfectly formed and articulated fingers. Maybe, if I was lucky, her other breast would fall out of her shirt in the fall – you know, at least give me something to look at as life drained from me. Fortunately for me, that isn’t what she did.
The killer doll took one-step towards me and faltered.
The thing about sex dolls is that they are mainly designed to sit in chairs, pose on all fours and do a lot of lying on their backs. No one buys a sex doll to have it stand around. That’s like buying a dildo to use as a Christmas tree ornament. Sure, maybe with a little practice and a couple hidden supports you could have it stand around your house like some sort of fucked up anime wax museum, but that’s just not what it is designed to do. Especially if you didn’t spring for the RealGirl™ realistic joint package. I honestly doubt a real human woman would be able to stand unassisted if you gave them the strange cartoony proportions most of these dolls have.
So, Cynthia took a step towards me, wobbled, top heavy. Tried to over-correct, then fell backwards onto my night stand and started squirming to get back on her feet.
I took the opportunity to run.
I got back to my feet and found the bedroom door. My hand hesitated on the knob for a millisecond as I considered what else there might be hiding behind this door, then I opened it anyway. I rushed out of my bedroom and sprinted down the hallway, hearing moans and clicking and growling from behind the doors of the bathroom and second bedroom as I rushed past. I came to the end of the hallway to the main living area and kitchen and turned to head towards the door when I took one last look down the dark hallway towards my bedroom.
Just barely visible through the darkness was Cynthia, crawling on all fours out of the bedroom. Her head was now re-attached but backwards so she faced the ceiling as she crawled forward, her nails making a click-clack sound as she crossed from the carpeted bedroom to the hardwood floor of the hallway.
I shuddered and made for the door.
My plan was to get in the car and drive away, but I left my car keys inside. Instead, I walked to Walmart, the one place on earth where you can walk around in boxers and a white t-shirt and no one bats an eye.
For the second time in 12 hours, I was trying to distract myself to take my mind off of the horrors the lifting of the veil had shown me and this time I was stuck in a Walmart - the epicenter of human horror.
It actually wasn’t too bad; I only had a few hours to kill before the sun came up. At that point, I’d head back to my place, get some clothes and catch up with Destiny to see if she had scheduled a meeting with her old professor yet. I supposed I’d be expecting a call from Pedro at some point as well, I did promise him an internship. I just hoped I could run faster than him.

UPDATE: AITA for sleeping top naked in my room?
Original Here
Hi everyone! I wanted to give an update on the situation since a lot of people were really concerned for me.
After the whole debacle, I did purchase a wedge for under my door from Walmart . It worked, and I didn’t have anymore issues with waking up to people in my face. I used the excuse that it was to keep our cat from opening my door at night and my mom seemed fine with that.
While E was here and even after he was gone my mom seemed detached and sort of out of it. I asked if everything was okay and she said she needed to sort out some feelings first but she promised we’d talk when she was better. I said okay and left it at that.
Couple days later, E came back for another weekend stay. The day after he came they had an at home date night with drinks and fancy takeout, and that night I woke up to my door being messed with. I call out to see if it’s my mom, and got no response. I pulled on a t-shirt n shorts and pull the door wedge out to check, and E is standing at my door. He was drunk, and I was a bit panicked because I thought something had happened to my mom and he needed help, but he just stood there for a few seconds without saying anything. He didn’t seem to be sleepwalking or in peril so I said “I’m uncomfortable, I’m closing my door.”
Before I could close the door all the way, my mom flew out her room, saw him, and started cussing and screaming and telling him he needed to leave. They argued back and forth for a while but eventually she got him out the door. After calming her down I took her to her room and we had a talk.
It turns out, the day she had came into my room, she had been on his phone and saw he was talking to his brother in law about me in very disgusting ways, talking about how I was growing up to be very shapely and mature, and that he couldn’t wait until I moved out so he could dump my mother for me. He said far more explicit things that were all extremely worrying, especially since we’ve known him since I was 11. My mom had came to tell me to be careful around him while she thought of a way to break it off safely, but when she saw my state she had some misplaced anger. He’s out of our lives now, thankfully.
TL;DR: boyfriend was actually a creep, mom had misplaced anger.
I wanna say thanks to everyone for all the suggestions and recommendations, and even those who suggested my mom could be abusive (I plan to talk to her about her other ideals/behaviors soon). Sarcastic thanks and genuinely big “fuck you”s to those who sent me crude messages. I’m just glad the situation is over.

Trip review (without budget; Budget report lower down in the post)
Fly in Sunday April 28, fly out Saturday Saturday May 4; Disneyland and DCA Monday-Friday park hopper tickets; Party: 2 families of 4 with neurodivergent children who qualified for DAS (kids ages: 3, 6, 6, 13). One support worker from Sunday-Wednesday. Had Genie+ on two of the adult tickets. Stayed in two rooms (Parlour A and C) at Anaheim Desert Inn and Suites. My mom (grandma) was supposed to come but she had some medical issues arise right before the trip. My mom kindly pixie dusted my sister’s regular support worker with her hotel room, flight and park ticket and we then paid her food and wages. She was a great asset for us and if you have multiple neurodivergent and/or disabled kids with differing needs, I recommend a higher adult to child ratio.
Flew Air Canada YVR to SNA. I enjoyed flying here instead of LAX. I didn’t notice the harsh/quick landing that others have mentioned.
Transportation from SNA to Anaheim Desert Inn and Suites. We scheduled EVE for 12:30 pm pickup and bought tickets. The app kept changing the pickup time and pushing it further out. By 1:15 pm the 4 kids were done (and so were all the adults). It was too late to wait even 5 minutes for an Uber so we got 3 taxis to transport everyone and their luggage. We could have fit in 2 taxis but one of the kids needed their own space at this stage. The dysregulation was high! We brought car seats for the kids. I am not at all happy about EVE and now have unused tickets and it certainly put a damper on the start of the trip. If we ever do another trip we plan to get taxis right away.
Motel: Anaheim Desert Inn and Suites. Our rooms were not ready early, so they stored our luggage while we walked down the street for food. We had Walmart grocery deliver some food to the hotel. The rooms were plain but worked for us. The beds were firm but not as hard as some I’ve experienced. One of my kiddos used the pull-out couch and slept well. We brought out rain makers for sleep, so the outside noise wasn’t too bad (except the fireworks were very loud). The windows have slats, not curtains so light filtered in easily. It was dark enough at night, but naps were more challenging for settling my youngest. Each day our support worker gathered some basic foods from the breakfast buffet for us for the following morning, so our kids didn’t have the extra transition to the buffet room. One issue for us is that the food kept changing (the oatmeal flavour), cereal type, which we were relying on as a safe food for our kids. We had even called ahead to ask detailed questions about the food, and it was different than what we were told. Had I had the correct information I would have been able to adjust my Walmart order. The bread was stale which unfortunately was a no-go for one of my kids. So, if you have sensory eaters this buffet is not reliable. It also doesn’t start until 7 am but we always wanted to be walking out the door by 7 am for rope drop.
Parks: We switched parks after our mid-day motel break on a couple of the days (star wars nites). Even with 5 days we couldn’t get everything we wanted done. My kids could rope drop but our mid day breaks were long from 12-4ish and then my kids couldn’t really make it past about 7 pm in the park so it was more like “half” days worth of activities in the park. The kids were ride-focused and didn’t seem interested in environment entertainment. Our last day we all enjoyed the Magic Happens parade at 5:30 pm. We sat on the ground at about 5:05 pm near small world and ate dinner while waiting. I think you could have arrived at 5:15 and still found seats for a small group. Favourite ride for the kids in Disneyland was Big Thunder Mountain and Radiator Springs Racers in DCA. My partner and I had to pay the ILL for Rise of the Resistance. I wore ear plugs and my kids wore noise defenders most of the time in the parks. We mobile ordered most of the time. On our last day we had breakfast with Minnie at the Plaza Inn at 10:20 am. The best thing at that breakfast is the waffles with bananas foster on top. I want to reproduce that at home! My kids really enjoyed the characters and shocking us all my little one asked for a hug from Tigger after Pooh gave him the best hug. I wish that Minnie circulated at the tables with the photographer. Her interaction was the poorest because it was so quick, and my kids were still getting warmed up to the environment. My 3-year-old decided to start potty training the week before we went on the trip and insisted on going to the bathroom SO MANY TIMES. And of course, the kids could not seem to coordinate their bathroom breaks so I think I spent half my time in all the bathrooms in the parks! Definitely something I hadn’t considered when I was organizing this trip.
Highlights for me: my 3-year-old squealing with joy riding Big Thunder. My 6 year old telling me this was the best vacation ever but also that she knows I love her and I don’t need to pay for things to show her my love (that was said about the character breakfast) but also she wants an Olaf bubble wand. LOL. My favourite ride is Indy and it didn’t disappoint me. I was proud of myself for suggesting the Chewy mode on Smuggler’s Run to a group of strangers (I was single rider with social anxiety), and they all agreed though I’m not sure they had the best time. I loved it! My partner did not think he’d like Disney that much, but he made many surprising comments about how great everything is. He loved Galaxy’s Edge and got really into the story of ROR. Overall, it was a successful Disneyland trip and I sure hope I get to do it again someday.
Ideas for neurodivergent kids/adults: ear plugs, sun hats, portable personal fan, airtags (we used ankle straps to secure the airtag over the sock so the strap didn’t touch the kid’s skin – sensory nightmare!)/tile on kids, parent contact info on a sticker mailing label stuck to the back of the kid’s shirts, leash/strap for elopers, mid-day hotel breaks/naps/screens, pack or buy safe foods. Unfortunately, even foods that are “safe” at home in Canada didn’t translate to the Walmart order with US brands. My biggest struggle on the trip was trying to keep the kids fed. If I did it again, I might bring a suitcase full of food! If you qualify for DAS, this allowed us to access attractions that we otherwise couldn’t. Rope dropping was a must for the kids to get on rides without the DAS. I found the park to be much louder than I remember from 15 years ago. I think there are numerous places that Disney could reduce the volume to give us sensitive auditory processors more of a break. Even with noise protection, my kids could not sit at the Fantasyland Theatre while the Pixar Fest photo op was going on. The music was deafening. I think the volume could be significantly reduced across the park without harm to neurotypical auditory processors and allow a much more accessible experience for neurodivergent auditory processors. The oldest kiddo eloped at one point through the park and her dad followed at a distance using the airtag. However, we all discovered that the airtag is not real-time enough to actually find a person at Disneyland. When Dad talked to Security they recommended the Tile for providing more real-time location data.
Ideas for Canadians/International guests: We used the Wise visa debit card with 0.5% currency exchange fee (this is compared to the typical 2.5% exchange fee on most credit cards). The Wise worked well for all purchases in and out of the park. My husband only had one situation where tapping with his phone Wallet didn’t work and he had to use the physical Wise card for the purchase. I purchased a 7-day 1GB data only US plan esim from Airalo that worked perfectly on my Google pixel phone for our trip. For the Walmart Grocery order we used the hotel as the billing address since it doesn’t accept Canadian addresses. My sister’s credit card was rejected (even though it worked in the parks) and I think she would have needed to call her bank and approve the US funds before putting in the Walmart order. Instead, we just used our Wise card for the order and it was accepted.
​
Trip Budget Review: April 28-May 4, 2024
This is a follow up post to my trip review post from earlier. This is our vacation cost for our family of 4 (2 adults, 2 kids), 6 nights at Anaheim Desert Inn and Suites. Flights from Vancouver Canada to SNA. 5-day tickets, park hopper and Genie+ on the two adult tickets only. Tickets were purchased from Undercover Tourist. Hotel and flights were booked direct. I’ll report subtotals in USD and total trip cost in both USD and CAD. Costs do not include my sister’s family and the support worker fees.
I used ChatGPT prior to the trip to help estimate costs. ChatGPT (with a 10% increase for inflation and low food cost estimates) gave an estimate of $10 000 CAD.
From my previous post, we did have a support worker for some of the time and my mom ended up gifting her flight, hotel and ticket to said worker and I have not included any of her costs in this budget review.
Anaheim Desert Inn and Suites, Parlour A room, 6 nights (Sun-Sat): $1404
Tickets: 5 day, park hopper, 2 adults, 2 kids, Genie+ on adult tickets only. Purchased from Undercover Tourist: $2312
Transportation including flights YVR-SNA and taxis to and from airport on both ends of the trip: $1542 (flight only was $1152). Note: we brought our own car seat and booster on the flights and installed in taxis.
Mobile esim for data only US plan, purchased from Airalo: $4.50
Grocery delivery from Walmart: $132
Character Dining Breakfast with Minnie at Plaza Inn: $157
Souvenirs (kids were allowed to pick one item on the last day; adults did not buy anything): $78
Individual Lightning Lane for Rise for 2 people: $52
Food including airports, Harbour Blvd, Downtown Disney and in the Parks: $839
Total cost of trip for our family of 4: $6521 USD ($8761 CAD)
Happy to answer any questions :)

To my utter surprise I got a notification that Walmart is filling my 2.5 and 5 today 😳 for reference, I was sitting 3rd in line for a week (to the day) until the 5 was filled. The 2.5s have been regularly stocked.
I’m doing okay-ish with 2.5 but the food noise and hunger is loud and I’m really anxious to move up to 5.
The only thing holding me back is the fear of supply. I plan to pick up both the 2.5 and 5, but I’m not sure if I should stay on 2.5 for another month and then try to get another box of 5 to make sure I at least have a month buffer? Thoughts?
[Update 1]
Well this might be all for nothing anyway. My 5 was supposed to be ready at 11am and my 2.5 ready tomorrow at 11am. I checked the queue to see if the 5 was ready for pickup and noticed that it was pushed to tomorrow, then showing up as out of stock, and my 2.5 dropped off the queue all together.
I called to check and was super nice to the pharmacist and said my dr called in 2.5 and 5 but I didn’t see it in the queue and she just said, “Well which do you want?” And I said preferably the 5. She said they did get some 5s in but she didn’t know yet how many and if I’d get one.
I was supposed to be 3rd in line but my dr accidentally cancelled my prescription for the 5 yesterday when she sent in a 2.5 as a backup. She resent the 5 this morning and I saw it in the queue, so I’m hoping I didn’t lose my spot all together. The pharmacist said I wouldn’t but who knows.
[Update 2]
After a roller coaster of a morning (and the 5 even showing up as out of stock in my queue at one point), the 5 is officially filled and is ready for pick up! Unfortunately the tech put my 2.5 back since the 5 was ready. Ideally I would’ve liked to have the 2.5 to buffer but didn’t want to push my luck. So my original question is now moot but very happy to have the 5.

tldr; The Maglite mini could focus into a very tight beam at a high CRI. If their specs are to be believed, it's 2000+cd. Unless I want to flood, use a low-CRI LED, or get a light with a chungus-sized reflector, there is still no alternative.
Picture this: It's 1999 - the peak of human civilization. You're going for a night-walk after putting out your fire at a campground. Of course, it's a mini maglite, the most compact size that can still output well enough with a good enough runtime. With 14 lumens and 2300cd, you sometimes twist the light between almost a tight beam and the tightest beam. Because no one uses the horriblly inconsistent beam that comes with the flood setting. You rotate it in your hands as you go, keeping the flared side of the artifacty beam in the direction that triggers your OCD the least. You walk by other tents and trailers near the path, keeping your light pointed at the ground and frown in disapproval at the kids who recklessly shine their lights around, occasionally hitting a tent with their beams.
You return to your tent a bit later. Unscrewing the mini-maglite's top all the way, you set it as its base on a flat surface you scrounge up from your pack. The dim 14lm shines in all directions and is exactly what you need to get ready and perhaps read for a bit. You settle in, and screw the light off as you zip up your sleeping bag for the night.
Modern lights are certainly more efficient, smooth and bright. However, the beam pattern of the mini maglite has not been replicated. I've seen a few comments around where people have mentioned we don't "need" the tight focus anymore because lights are brighter, implying no one wants this. I would say this is untrue, as evidenced by the popularity of the W1/W2 and the W1 Amber as of late.
Now, I don't have one of these myself, nor a DD 519a, but I can say that at 16ft, the beam is about 7-9." I have a cheap yellow 2xAA Garrity with a secondary momentary switch that has an even tighter centre beam. From the beamshots I've seen online, the W1 is probably the same (at like-for-like lumens, obviously) but there is no high-CRI <4000K version. The 519a DD / 719a seem to be the closest replacement, but even beamshots from a D1/KR1 don't look as throwy.
It's not just the mini maglite, either. The Garrity I mentioned used a rather large central bulb and a reflector yet the diameter is the same as the KR4, accounting for the thicker-than-normal plastic around the rim. The mini-mag is the same diameter as the D3aa - much smaller than the D1/KR1. I think my point here, though is that the mini-mag is a AA sized light with a D3aa sized head while managing to have better throw than a D1/KR1 and being adjustable.
Obviously, an LED torch cannot be designed like the old torches. But it definitely seems to me like it's possible to have a throwier LED torch, and possibly an adjustable one that's not walmart garbage. The incan maglite solitaire is 2 lumens and seems to have slightly less throw/lm than the mini-mag. It has better throw than my pineapple mini and my C01S, while being thinner than both, and shorter than the pineapple mini.
I'm not saying it should be the standard, nor even that I would buy one (I think the C01S has the best tradeoff flood/throw for a AAA light. Alas it's discontinued). But it seems to me AA and AAA sized throwers are an untapped market and more specifically for that size, in circumstances where cd is needed without flood, there is room to open up more runtime for these little guys by lowering the lumens but keeping it bright by way of a nice tight beam.
Afterward: I wrote this mainly because I have different nostalgia regarding maglites than other posters I've seen here. Most seem to have appreciated only the D-battery sized mags. While I did have one (I believe a 2D), the majority of my maglites were on the smaller side - mostly the solitaire and the mini maglite (the old belt holsters for the mini were high quality back in the day, too. Maglite still has kits supposedly with them but I don't trust it's up to date, considering they don't sell it separately). Picking up a few recently out of the drawer, I realized the one thing they could do that none of my modern lights can - high CRI laser beam, albeit capping out at 14 lumens (supposedly) with a rough beam.

People say that college isn't for everyone which is true, but I firmly believe that going to college is infinitely better than not.
I have no ambition, no major, no idea what I wanna be, I grew up in a middle class house hold, I'm not a first generation both of my parents went to college, and I took advantage of my easy life I barely learned in school, I am aware I am not as smart as the average human being believe me, I don't know most of basic history or math, my friends make fun of me for it as they Should I realize how important learning was after graduating hs.
I fucked up so badly ever since I was child. I only did enough to pass, sure I got A's, b's, mostly C's, sometimes never but rarely D's, but never f's until college, but now I am aware of how serious it is to become something in life, we as humans have made it a fundamental need to become something in life.
Sure the college dropouts that made it in life are thriving but be realistic. I know myself I know I'm not gonna be rich or become a fucking famous YouTuber I have become more realistic and more humble than I was before I started college.
But I know I will not be happy, I know I will live a life as a man in a struggling environment, I know I will heavily disappoint my parents and my siblings and friends, they are in college wanting to be something and I know all of the good times and the life that I wanted will not happen.
I genuinely want to cry when people ask me what's my major I've been in college for three years doing nothing with only one class of something that I am failing I hate how fucking stupid I am, I can't do adulting I just can't do this. I'm still a boy not a man.
I can't do this anymore, I don't wanna live in a life where I know I won't be happy in. My gym teacher once said, someone has to be the iceream man, someone has to be the hotdog stand guy, someone has to be the person working at Walmart. He wasn't saying that to me at the time, I wasn't kid whose act up in class nor was I a popular kid, I was just an average teenager who made some friends in HS that's all.
I don't know what I want to be, I flunked out and lost my scholarship I cried for the first time in years because I knew I would be in a life of early mornings for a job that barely gets me through a month, I wish to God my parents manipulated me as a kid to become something, it is so important to know what you wanna do, I don't even wanna have kids, and ruin the cycle.
Our cycle was fixed, I pray to God that NOBODY in life and my siblings will lose their happiness and their ambition it is so important to go to school and become something I honestly don't care what anyone has to say, I am a failure to everyone when they ask me about school I still don't even know how to drive but I have my permit, I am also a failure to most people in my community, all of the old adults talking to me saying I speak well, and I am different kids that want to skip class, I smile and conversate tell them what they wanna hear and they say they look at me and see a man whose knows what he wants, i want to break down and tell them what my situation is but I don't. I have before but most times they say the same stuff I have heard and normally don't know what to tell me and it hurt cause now I don't think there's a solution to my problem I truly think some people are meant to not succeed in life just by chance. I just wish I wasn't so fucking aware of it, and how much the stakes really are in terms of succeeding in life.
Sure people will still say but you can still be successful but look at how fucking hard you have to work without college, I couldn't give a shit about the debt at least you have a degree at least you did something at you have a fucking talent, it pisses me off when people degrade other people's degree or talk shut on their own degrees, like do you realize how fucking hard you have to work just to succeed in college I would be praising and waking up early in the morning with a smile on my face saying that I did it even if I had the world's worst college degree. So fucking own it once you graduate.
People have something to fall back on at least you can say you went to school at least you can make more money, at least you can definitely have the life you want, I wanted to drop out I told my mom this multiple times she did not take it well breaking down crying in public at the college during registration, in front of everyone, my dad is fine with me dropping surprisingly but I know he shouldn't, but my mom no she says i will keep going to college until I want to be something. She literally fucking forcing me. I have been even more depressed ever since, I want to cry Everytime I go to class cause I know I'm s failure and I can't learn.
The emotions are building up I cannot man up any longer, I am considering running away and dying somewhere in the wild I do not give a fuck anymore, I truly wish I was one of you reading this right now who are still in college for sure knowing what they want to do for the rest of their life.
My friend says then "do something about it", nothing can top that statement in being the perfect example of easier said then done. Some of my other friends have sympathy the others truly cannot understand how stupid some people are and why they don't know most of common knowledge. They are right for the insults Andi have myself to blame, they are right. But they don't understand is that it's just hard to get sit or learn sometimes it's always has, I hated school my whole life it was always so fucking hard to get an A . Then again my highschool wasn't the best. It a low testing rate but it very school has they're shinners. I remember looking at the insanely smart kids, I had so much respect for them but most didn't want to be friends with my understably cuz I'd somewhat try to match, learn, or copy from them. They often kept to themselves so I left them alone, but some smart kids that I am still friends with I am proud of them and I think to myself what life what truly be like if I had their intelligence. Most of my friends are the opposite funny enough they come from terrible living conditions working their way up to be first generation students while I'm the opposite, and it's fucking killing me, I'm happy for them but I a really a pethetic though. I just don't know what to do anymore.
To those in college I hope you live your live and have what you want trust me it's better to be something than nothing. The counselor was nice she convinced me to stay in school on the day my mom broke down in front of everyone but I only chose one class cause the other classes she was suggesting were stuff that I struggled a lot with in back in hs
I will say though I am aware of how my life was supposed to go. My childhood and teenage life was absolutely amazing I was actually so happy until I turned 18 I understand that now. And I am not happy for it, I wish I had the ambition to be a fuckin doctor a lawyer a computer scientist, fucking anything a ballerina. I wish I had a photographic memory I wish I was smart. I wish I didn't have to ask the teacher to repeat what they said all he time I wish when after I studied I didn't forget I wish I didn't get so bored in class so easily I wish I could be the guy people wanted me to be. I wish I could make my community proud I can't though I cannot. I have tried tried and trued and it's headache inducing. I just wish I could know what it's like to have to confidence to pass a test.
I don't care I truly wish there was something I can care about or put my mind towards, even then there is stuff that every human wants to be but that stuff is too high for the average person to reach like being an astronaut or a voice actor. I wonder if we'll even have an astronaut thats born in 2000. And I want to be a voice actor buts unrealistic like making it as a NBA player or something like that.
I'm just ranting and I don't give a shit about how stupid this sounds or how many run on sentences I have. I just need to say this I fucked up my life there's still so much more to tell. And I want to stop living but I don't want to commit suicide but I also don't want to live the life that I know that's set for me. I wanted a family a wife and kids, and secure future I wanted to be able to take of my mother, but what man would I be if I bring people I love into this life of failure.
I wouldn't be able to have a woman as a unambitious broke man, I wouldn't be able to support another life by working at fucking McDonald's for the rest of my life. I get so jealous and happy wherever I hear my coworkers talk about school, sometimes I tear up. Secretly cause I think about my life. I wish them the best and I truly pray to God that they stick to their ambition to the end.
I'll just end up as a nothing but another statistic if I bring anyone too close. I've tried pushing people away so that they won't be as disappointed or sad when they realize how much of a failure I'll be in the future. I know I can't just marry a woman who makes more than me because my mother said shed disown me if Im not a provider or a real man. I don't want them to see me like that. I try to compensate for my shitty future by working out because truthfully I know I'll only have myself. So I mind as well look good going down.
I only have one class and it's a class of a major I am fucking shit in and don't enjoy, school is so hard I cannot do this. How are people just so smart I genuinely struggle no matter how hard I try. I go after school meet with professors and my friends tell me that they can just be told information and just remember it. It makes me cry, I ask God why was I born why. Why Give me a life of luxury for only 18 years. There's no point in living.
I won't repeat the cycle by bringing people into my life or a kid into my life, I will be the dead branch that falls off. I would never set myself up for a woman only for her to see I am a disappointment going nowhere, I will never set myself up to have a kid only to realize his father cannot give him a secure life. I will never break my family's cycle of going to college being successful and taking care of the parents, I will die off. It's the only way that I see is a fitting end, a more pg way of natural selection for me.
To those that are reading this
Please if you ever consider having a child this is your one chance to set them up, manipulate them just a little bit to become something, put them in clubs, sports, make them learn how to play piano make them have some sort of skill my parents only did that with me once with basketball but I broke my leg as a kid and never did basketball again, my father didn't want me to do other sports like football or something else even though I was potentially built for it as I am a big person. My mother on the other hand never really offered to put me in anything else. And me as a child after basketball i never went anywhere and was just existing, I also turned down a lot of offers by my parents when I was little but I wish they ignored me saying no to boy scouts or whatever and just forced me in. It would've done me some good.
My older brother and older sister just miraculously wanted to be something in life but they did join clubs and programs during school, my older brother works for NASA now, while my older sister is a therapist. My little sister she is still in college but I am not sure for what but when she was little she joined many clubs and did many childhood things in programs. My little brother he did as well, and it's what kicked off his talent, I am so grateful that he has a talent he wants to be a drummer musician, as he knows how to play the drums.
And you already know about me, I am right in the middle, I have nothing and am nothing and I hate how my friends talk about the future together as if I could be able to afford it. I wish I was never born I truly do. I sometimes wonder if suicide isn't as bad as they say. If there's anything out there for me that can secure me financially for a future I would drop everything and take it in a heartbeat.
I remember my HS history teacher asked me what talent I had when everyone in class were sharing what they are good at and I said nothing and it was true and honest, and I thought it was ok. He looked at me right in the eyes and said out loud in front of the whole class that I was pathetic, and started questioning me about my parents and my life. Non of the answers were satisfactory to him.
I hate school I hate myself I hate the future I gotten to myself, only one life and I choose this it's my fault I have no one else to blame but myself. I want to die but at the same time I don't. I wonder if there was even a purpose to me being born I wonder if I did something in a past life to have earned a life like this. I'm stuck in the middle no motivation or likeness for anything while also wasting time and just existing why God why me why did I have to be a nobody, I don't want this I don't love this life, I truly don't know what to do, I wish whole heartily that I was never born, I hope I die without knowing oneday, so then I wouldn't be burden with the anxiety of my failure of a future knowing that there's nothing for me. why did I have to be human why not a mindless animal with no worries or responsibilities. Death is a better alternative than doing nothing with my life.

Great feedback history so buy with confidence. Now through Tuesday, May 7, 8PM PDT / 11PM EDT only take an extra $5 off a total of $50 or more of items, $10 off $100 or more, $15 off $200 or more and $20 off $250 or more on top of already great prices (excluding the binoculars). You can also combine with items from the 48 Hour Sale Part II.
Ship to lower 48 states (open to shipping internationally and to AK & HI, please ask). Paypal Friends & Family preferred or add 3% for the Paypal Goods & Services fee. Just let me know which items you’d like and I’ll check the least expensive UPS and USPS tracked shipping. All sales are final. Thanks for looking!
1) Liteway Pyraomm Duo Tarp 2P Pyramid, Stealth Olive (just like MLD Duomid) + Liteway Pyraomm Mesh Half Inner, New (set up only once), $349 (Regularly $475 = Tarp $281 + Inner $194. Equivalent to MLD Duomid Tarp and Solomid XL mesh inner which sell for $470 = $290 + $180). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/Tq5mtRP - Extremely well-made pyramid shelter and generous half mesh inner - use the tarp alone, or the mesh alone on nice nights for stargazing, or both together for an ultralight double wall shelter. Fantastic bomber solo shelter, and the tarp works for two, but I’m always going on trips with my partner and we use a wider inner. Sheds wind far better than double trekking pole shelters. https://liteway.equipment/pyraomm-duo/pyraomm-duo-tarp https://liteway.equipment/pyraomm-duo-half-mesh
2) Hanchor Marl Large Backpack, 19-21 in. Torso, New, $239 (regularly $250 + $20 international shipping. Blows away Hyperlite Mountain Gear packs) - Top backpacking guide and author Andrew Skurka has praised the Hanchor Marl for its excellent construction, strong waterproof materials and light weight and has carried one on many trips. The Hanchor Marl blows away similar volume HMG packs for carrying capability, comfort and construction (incredible stitching), and at a much better price. Aluminum stays can also be shaped to exactly fit the curve of your back. The load lifters work great to keep weight off your shoulders. Bright interior makes it easy to find gear. Convenient hip pockets with waterproof zips. Clean, simple design is a pleasure to use, with everything you need and nothing you don’t. Large size typically fits 19-21 in. torsos (removable aluminum stays are 23.5 in long). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/fxTthYj
3) Ultimate Direction Fastpackher 30L, M/L, New, $139 (regularly $179.95 + tax) - Women's version of the above. Size goes by measurement around the widest part of the chest, the range is 36 in. to 48 in. and the pack is highly adjustable so you can dial it right in. The women's backpanel is only 1/2 in. narrower than the men's, so will fit men too. Just go to this link and click on "Sizing": https://ultimatedirection.com/fastpackher-30-2-0/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/ZfY5IB4
4) Celestron TrailSeeker ED 8 x 42 Top-Rated Waterproof Binoculars, New, $289 (regularly $379.95 + tax) - Top rated for its class by Cornell Ornithology’s Binocular Buying Guide: “Our overall top pick for image quality and comfort among binoculars under $650.” Ideal for birding, hunting and sporting events. And 8 x 42 is the ideal size for varied light conditions as it gives you much better light gathering and a brighter image than smaller 8 x 25 binoculars. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/celestron-trailseeker-ed-8x42-binoculars-our-review/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/Qda4Pvc
5) * SOLD \* Gossamer Gear Mariposa Ultralight Backpack, RegulaMedium Torso (18-20 in), New - Ultralight yet durable and feature-rich backpack with storage up to 60L for longer sections and a solid track record of performance on major trails. It’s a thru-hiking classic. Lots of volume available at such low weight for big food loads between resupplies or for winter backpacking when you may have bulkier insulation, yet cinches down really well for when you don’t need as much space. This 2023 pack is functionally the same as the 2024 (the 2024 has a slightly different frame stay which functionally makes little to no difference - save over $125 with this one). Hip belt fits a very wide range from 30"-57.5" Photos: https://imgur.com/a/jbUMoct
6) Hennessy Hammock 4 Season Expedition with XXL Snake Skins, New, $245 (regularly $309.90 = $289.95 + $19.95 for the XXL Snakeskins). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/LZN8HI8 Not only is the HH Expedition one of the best, most comfortable and durable 4 season hammocks you can get, it’s also popular for summer use in areas of high bug pressure as the double bottom is impervious to the worst mosquitoes (mosquitoes can bite through single layer hammocks). Many militaries rely on HH hammocks for good reason. Comes with attached mosquito netting, detachable Hex rain fly, support ropes, compression sack with set up instructions on back, complimentary standard 42" / 107 cm long "Tree Hugger" webbing straps to protect tree bark, and an oversized open-cell foam pad. HH asymmetrical design is very comfortable compared to more classic hammock designs.
7) Granite Gear Blaze 60L Backpack Women’s Fit, Highly Adjustable Regular Frame (18-21 in. torso), Black, New, only $189 (regularly $299.94 + Tax). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/SF9XV3r One of the most adjustable and comfortable lightweight load haulers. The capacity and generous extendable collar are great for longer trips or trips with heavier gear or a big water carry, yet easily cinch down for shorter trips. Women’s specific fit and frame is highly adjustable (also works great for men with narrower shoulder width). Makes a great winter pack too, with durable material and many lashing points.
8) Hillsound Weatherproof Packstack Pro Storage Sack, 40L Tall, New, $25 (regularly $35) weatherproof storage sack that made Outside Magazine's Gear Guide Editor's Choice Award. https://hillsound.com/products/packstackpro Photos: https://imgur.com/a/7wlWcDr
9) Hillsound Weatherproof Packstack Pro Storage Sack, 40L Short, New, $24 (regularly $34) - weatherproof storage sack that made Outside Magazine's Gear Guide Editor's Choice Award. https://hillsound.com/products/packstackpro Photos: https://imgur.com/a/7wlWcDr
10) COAST Dual LED Multi Tool, New, $30 (Regularly $49.99 + tax) - The LED150 Multi-Tool comes packed with 13 tools that can help you master any task or job. Tools: Spring-loaded pliers with wire cutter, 3.0 in. Blade, two built-in LEDs, Phillips (1) and flathead (3) screwdriver tips, bottle opener, wire stripper, can opener. 2 x CR1616 batteries included. With Coast’s commitment to quality, the LED150 Multi-Tool is backed by Coast’s lifetime warranty against defects in materials and workmanship. 4 in length closed. Never opened clear blister case has some small cracks in the back around the sheath. https://coastportland.com/products/led150 Photos: https://imgur.com/a/VryHhPy
11) COAST FDX300 Double Lock One-Handed Open Stainless Steel Folding Knife, 3 in. blade, New in package, 2 available, $45 for both (regularly each $30 + tax) - One-handed opening, double lock system for double safety, stainless steel handle, partially-serrated and partially-straight blade, ambidextrous opening, 3-position pocket clip, 7Cr17 stainless steel (also known as 68Cr17, a modified version of 440A steel, with more vanadium elements added to give it extra strength, increase toughness and wear resistance). Lifetime warranty. It’s the drop point version of this $29 COAST partially-serrated tanto: https://coastportland.com/collections/cutting-tools/products/fdx306 Photos: https://imgur.com/a/yxS7uno
12) Squeeze Water Filters & Water Pouches - Photos: https://imgur.com/a/EyGwPih
a) Squeeze 34 Oz. Personal Water Filtration Bottle SP140 with self-contained filter, New, $35 (regularly $50) - Just scoop water into the bottle and drink. Filters up to 100,000 gallons. Highest level of filtration at 0.1 micron absolute. https://www.amazon.com/Sawyer-Products-SP140-Personal-34-Ounce/dp/B005SO8VAE
b) * SOLD \* Sawyer Squeeze Water Filtration System SP131, New - Highest level filtration to 0.1 micron absolute. With Squeeze Filter with Push/Pull Cap, 16 ounce Collapsible Pouch, Two ounce Collapsible Pouch, Backwashing Plunger, Cleaning Coupling, Inline Adapters, Drinking Straw or Gravity Tube, Mesh Carrying Pouch (can also be used to create gravity water filtration system). Identical filter to below c) SP129. https://www.sawyereurope.com/water-filtration/sawyer-sp131-squeeze-water-filter-system
c) Sawyer Squeeze Water Filtration System SP129, New $34 (Regularly $46 + tax) - Highest level filtration to 0.1 micron absolute. Identical filter to above b) SP131. Includes Two Reusable 32-Oz, Bpa-Free Collapsible Pouches That Roll Up Tightly For Easy Packing, Drinking Straw, One Set Of Sawyer Inline Hydration Pack Adapters For Filter, And Mesh Storage Bag. https://www.amazon.com/Sawyer-Products-SP129-Filtration-Squeezable/dp/B00B1OSU4W/ref=sr_1_3
d) * SOLD \* Sawyer All-In-One Water Filtration System SP181 for emergency use, remote cabins and campsites, New - Gives you the ability to use the filter attached to a squeeze pouch, attached to a standard 5 gallon bucket, or attached to your home faucet. The "build your own gravity system" can yield up to 540 gallons of clean water per day from any fresh water source. Kit includes: the Sawyer 0.1 Micron Absolute Micron Hollow Fiber Membrane Screw On/Off Filter, 32 oz Squeeze Pouch, 2 Pop-up Drinking Spouts, 1 bucket adapter kit, 1 faucet adapter, and 1 filter cleaner. Life Expectancy: 1 Million Gallons Guaranteed. https://www.walmart.com/ip/Sawyer-PointONE-All-in-One-Filte21811661 Photo of everything included: https://imgur.com/a/Ve8gn98
e) Sawyer Tap Filter for fast emergency water & for cabin use, New, $36 (Regularly $48 + tax) - Great for muddy tap water following pipeline work, use at a cabin or in an emergency. With tap filter, backwash adapter, threaded spigot adapter, dual threaded adapter, tap gauge and extension hose. Highest level filtration 0.1 micron absolute.
f1) Box of Two 64 oz Sawyer Squeeze Pouches, New, $10.50 (Regularly $14 + tax) - 1 left. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B005SO8SPC/ref=twister_B08NGGJMD6
f2) * SOLD \* Box of Three 32 oz Sawyer Squeeze Pouches https://www.amazon.com/dp/B005SO8RQM/ref=twister_B08NGGJMD6
f3) Box of Three 16 oz Sawyer Squeeze Pouches, New, $6.75 (regulary $9 + tax) - 2 boxes available. https://www.highwaterfilters.com/products/sp116-sawyer-5-l-16oz-squeezable-pouch-set-of-3

We’ve never had a good relationship. She’s also left a negative impact in my childhood. To preface this story my family history is pretty negative with lots of trauma as we are indigenous, it has resulted in generational trauma. My aunt hasn’t had the best upbringing and my grandmother did the best she could the past 8 years or so since my mom commit suicide when I was 11. My family hasn’t been the same since my mom passed and it left my grandmother in a state of worrying about her children and doing the best she can to help which is the normal response but it’s gotten to the point where she’ll coddle them and let them live with us despite how self destructive they’ve been and uncomfortable they’ve made me feel and the uncomfortable situations we’ve been put in and she’d rather let them continue their behavior and let them live with us rather than set boundaries. Back in August though my aunt and her abusive boyfriend left and hitchhiked to another province while still drunk, we are also from there and have family there but my aunt has been getting into some sticky dangerous situations including passing out in front of Walmart multiple times, getting hit by a car while running into traffic away from her boyfriend, almost dying from freezing outside, while all of this is alarming and I wish nothing but the best for her she’s made me extremely uncomfortable in the past and has gotten violent in front of me with other family members. She’s tried in the past to get close to me through smoking habits and activities when I’d move in and out of my grandmas and she’d be ready to use that in a argument, she’s also lived at my grandmas off and on. She also came with me and my uncle to a big city to help take care of me while I was in a psych ward for a month, that didn’t turn out well she and she left the last few days I was there and would hold it against me that she didn’t have to be there whenever we got into an argument. She’s tried before to be the best person she could be and help our family unpack our trauma and try to heal and become closer but it would end up never happening because she can’t accept that they aren’t ready to heal yet. All the arguments left a bad taste in my mouth and I don’t like her cause as I said she’s also abusive, she’s stabbed her ex boyfriend, didn’t let her ex see his mom or let him go her funeral, tried to beat my grandma up. And yeah she was never abusive to me she’d just be up in my space antagonizing me or crying about my mom to me while she was really drunk or high, throwing my food, stealing my things, let my cat out and he got mauled by dogs, and minor petty things like bleaching my clothes after an argument (I started it though i bleached her clothes before) I’ve left her behind ignore her sometimes, I’d often make sarcastic comments and jokes towards her and make fun of her abuse and belittle her, causing her to snap. I do care and worry about her but I don’t see her coming back and us having civil relationship, I’m already on my own path getting ready to unpack my own trauma and I don’t think I can have peace of mind when she comes back cause she eventually will she always does, and my grandma won’t turn her away but AITA for not being ready and not wanting her to comeback when she’s obviously putting herself at risk as a vulnerable indigenous women. I have been mean to her and she’s been mean to me and I’m not ready to get over it and have us living together again she needs to heal alone. Is it wrong to feel this way? And do I need to deal with my emotions towards her since she’s coming back eventually? How do I come to terms with the fact I should apologize too even though I’m not ready and still hold a grudge against her for the things she’s done to others and me? Is she the AH? Cause she’s grown almost 40 and im just 18f for context.

We see several Thunderstriders hanging around a comfortable home base. No Pain was sitting on a chair sipping some delicious in front of a nice well made hard wood table and Snail, Cloudy, and Indi would all be snuggled up on a giant bean bag occasionally kissing the other. Junk was currently eating a slice of cake left in the fridge just for him.
Suddenly without warning the lights would randomly shut off. Everyone was a bit confused but it was likely just a power outage or the generator acting up nothing that wouldn’t be easy to fix.
Snail stood up leaving Indi and Cloudy on the bean bag and No Pain fallowed suit.
No Pain: It’s dark. We should fix the generator immediately!
Snail: On it dad! You guys can hang out while I work on it!
No Pain turned on a lamp placed on the hard wood table and just sat back down leading to Indi and Cloudy to push the bean bag closer to No Pain.
Cloudy: Oi! No Pain! Tell me mate what are you even doing these days?
No Pain: Taking care of my family and friends and saving people. It’s just what I’ve always have.
Indi: BUUUTTTTTTTTT! I saw you at Walmart yesterday?!
No Pain: … and? I was-
Cloudy: Everyone knows normal people don’t go too Walmart!
Indi: So what are you really MR?!
No Pain: W-where did you get this absolutely ridiculous idea?
Cloudy: That one meme on Reddit said so!
No Pain: You shouldn’t use-
Cloudy: I’m telling Snail!
Cloudy would then roll off the bean bag over to where Snail went. Junk walked over finishing his cake he was eating he carelessly yeeted the plate and fork he ate them away before speaking extremely bored.
Junk: So mates tell me what y’all been up too?
No Pain: Well I’ve been trying to spend more time with family! Though strangely I’ve been speaking to Bread less and less…
Indi: I’ve been-
He freezes in place before looking at the floor dumbfounded. He seemed confused and began scratching his head as smoke came out his ears…
Junk: He over heating?
Indi: I can’t remember…
Snail: GUYS! GUYS!
Indi jumped and immediately ran to make sure Snail was ok fallowed by Junk and No Pain.
Indi: BABE?!
Indi shouted out as he slipped down an old dusty and shaky ladder. No Pain would grab Junk’s hand and instead float down rather than even touching that disgusting ladder. They see the basement was very dark only lit by a dim light blue glow from the generator… or more specifically the old timey box tv that was on top of it
Cloudy was poking at its knobs as Snail looked extremely confused while staring right into it.
No Pain: Snail…?
Snail: Dad when did we get a TV down-
TV?: And everyone… I’d like to welcome the star of our shows!
They all hear a small beep and immediately felt weak and began dropping onto the hard dusty floor one by one with No Pain being the last one standing to now see a glowing face on the tv screen.
No Pain: W-who are…
Before they could finish the sentence they would pass out on the floor

I am one of those people complaining about the point system (I don’t have any points btw, speaking from what I heard from friends and what I’ve read on this subreddit). I’m a very punctual person and almost never miss work except for health complications and educational events. I live 12 minutes from my Walmart and leave home 25-30 minutes before my shifts.
I used to work at Cub Foods up until a some months ago, and they handled it better; we had no point system. You just couldn’t clock in more than 10 minutes early/late - otherwise you’d have a manager override it and then go about your day and get your work done. If you were to have a future appointment or anything for any reason, just call in/let them know about a week or two ahead of time (schedules were made for 2 weeks of work, instead of Walmart’s 3 weeks), and all was good. With that people didn’t fear getting fired for missing work for things they couldn’t control (like Walmart’s 6 months attendance rollover period), and people were actually more punctual, knowing they had that leeway.
With all this said, is there anything we associates can do about it? Petition maybe? Anything at all?

I un-installed norton and restarted and now the screen in split down the middle and unaligned. How do I fix this?

Burner account cause I don’t want to risk her finding this but me and my gf started dating about a year and a half ago, WAYYY before the relationship started she started talking about her ex Carson(not his real name dw). She’d always be like “oh Carson left me for being immature” and “it took me years to get over Carson” When we started dating she would talk about how it’s Carson’s loss and she’s happy with me now but I slowly realized recently that she REALLY wanted Carson to see that fact We’d always go to the Walmart the dude works at holding hands and when he would be working she would do everything in her power to indirectly show me off to him. I never thought anything of it at the time and just thought it’s mostly a coincidence that he worked there but now I feel like I used to be an object that she has to date now to show that she’s “in a happy healthy relationship”
Another example is that Carson was at this fair that we went to on the 4th of July and it completely ruined the mood of the whole day where she had this attitude of “god I hope Carson sees this”
Maybe she thought it was okay cause I occasionally talk about an abusive relationship I used to be in and how it still affects me now…or maybe I’m overthinking everything haha
Edit: forgot to include this but she hasn’t really done the whole Walmart thing in about a year

I (26F) don't really date much. It's just never been my thing. But I'm doing well in most aspects of my life and I finally felt ready enough to actually put myself out there.
I started with a few "test" dates with some guys I met on Tinder and Bumble. Just a way for me to dip my toes in the dating pool without getting too serious too quickly. I was completely upfront about this with guys and a few of them were totally cool with it, which was nice.
Conversations and drinks flowed, and everything went well. Especially with one guy in particular. I hadn't thought anything of him initially. But he was kind and I loved the way he made me laugh. It also didn't hurt that he was very cute. We had gone on a few other dates after our initial one. And by our fourth, I felt safe enough to meet him at his place for a fifth date.
Johnny (not his real name) lived about thirty minutes away, so I had time to clear my head. And the weather was nice, which helped calm my nerves a bit. I hadn't been over to a guys house for a date since my freshman year in college. But by the time I was knocking at his door, my nerves had actually turned into excitement.
He opened the door and smiled at me, which made me more excited. There was just something about his crooked smile that made me adore him.
We stepped into his apartment and began our fifth and final date.
Inside, the room was mostly candle-lit, save for the kitchen. The overhead lights revealed a wide array of pots, plates, and food. Johnny popped open a bottle of wine and poured me a glass. I sat myself down at a nearby table. It was dressed with more candles, some flowers, and fancy silverware. If he wanted to impress me, it was working. I liked how much thought he put into everything.
Dinner went especially well. As always, he was great at conversations and flirting. Teasing him was fun too. And I could tell with every smile he'd flash me that he was enjoying it just as much as I was.
In all honesty, up until that point, it had been one of the best dates I'd been on. Johnny was incredible and I was ready to make things serious with him. But I felt it best to leave it for the next day since we were both full and tipsy.
We finished dinner with a slice of chocolate cake he'd picked up from a local bakery. The chocolate was rich, decadent, and fresh. But my God that cake was something else. So moist.
I decided to ask about why he'd decided on takeout for dessert. He immediately averted his eyes and started fiddling with his ring finger.
"Is everything okay?"
He stopped fiddling with his finger and pushed up his glasses. There was a crack in them, small enough that I hadn't noticed before. "Yeah it's just... well, it's complicated."
Those famous words. I’d heard them often enough in movies and books. And I knew where this conversation was heading. Or at least, I thought I did.
"I'm a widow," he continued. "My wife and I, well we loved baking together. It was her passion."
He started to touch his ring finger again. I wasn't sure what to say. He was my age, which meant they must have met young. The pain he must've felt with such a loss... I wasn't one to complicate things either. And I knew it was best that maybe we end things or at least take them slow.
"Are you sure you're-" my voice was cut off by a bang. I looked towards a darkened hallway.
He pushed his chair back and stood. "Excuse me."
I watched as he rushed down the hallway. Then I heard a door open and close hard.
Minutes passed and he hadn’t returned.
I thought about leaving, I felt uncomfortable. It was this weird feeling at first. As if I wasn’t alone. I checked the hallway, the living room, and the balcony.
As I was looking around, I noticed there were no pictures. Anywhere. The apartment, the silence, the emptiness of it all was startling. I hadn’t heard footsteps, or nearby neighbors talking.
Maybe I was scaring myself, but I suddenly felt as if I was being watched. Not from afar, but right across from me, from Johnny’s chair.
A part of me really believed there was someone there. That if I reached a hand out, I’d meet with some invisible force. I was tempted to, just to test out my theory. But I wasn’t insane enough.
I shifted in my chair, ready to run. But before I could leave, Johnny came back flushed. His face was red and wet with sweat. He took his seat across from mine. I had to keep myself from warning him to not sit down, that there was already someone there.
Ignoring my senses, I looked at Johnny and asked, "Are you okay?"
He took a quick glance at me then averted his eyes. "Sure, yeah."
"Look we can pick back up tomorrow if you'd like?"
Johnny nodded his head. "That'd be for the best."
As I stood from my chair, my stomach grumbled. Fuck. The wine, pasta, and cake were not mixing well. I was embarrassed but I knew I wouldn't make it to my apartment.
"Is it okay if I use your bathroom?"
"It's down the hall, to the left."
I hurried down the hall, found the door to my left, and entered. His bathroom was clean and God was I grateful for that. I tried to not take longer in his bathroom than I needed to, but something kept me from wanting to leave. I chalked it up to me being buzzed after so many glasses of wine.
Or maybe it was the incident with the chair. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As my mind wandered, I heard a faint noise. It was inaudible at first and then, as it grew louder, I realized it was crying, from a baby. It went on for a few seconds and then stopped.
Johnny hadn’t mentioned a child on his profile or in any of our conversations. But at this point, I was tired and creeped out. I wanted to go home.
I got up and washed my hands and face. But as I turned to the door, I heard a bang again. Like a door slamming shut.
I rushed out of the bathroom. A nearby door was wide open. I walked over and peeked inside. It was dark. "Johnny?"
Silence. There was that feeling again. Of someone's eyes being on me. But it was as if they were standing right in front of me. Staring right into my face.
The room light came on.
The room was full of shelves and in the center was a baby crib and rocking chair. I stepped backwards. The shelves were lined with baby dolls. But not the cheap kind you pick up from Walmart. They were the hyper-realistic kind. At least a hundred.
Some of their eyes were wide open, hands reaching up for invisible parents. Others had their eyes closed, hands tucked into their chest.
Rows and rows of them, just completely identical to each other. All of them were clothed. And all of them were male.
From the corner of my eye, I caught nearby closet doors opening slightly. And then I heard a baby crying again. I walked towards the crib and peeked inside. Thinking maybe, just in case, there was a real baby in there.
Instead, there was a doll inside and sitting next to it was a phone, playing a recording of a crying baby.
Out of some weird instinct, I stopped the recording.
The closet doors burst open, crashing against the walls. A woman dressed in a bloody hospital gown rushed out, her clawed hands reaching for me, screaming like a banshee. Her face was raw from scratch marks. "My baby!"
I fell backwards, hitting my head hard on the floor.
The woman turned to the crib and picked up the doll. She looked down and cooed at it. As she picked up her baby, she screamed. “¡Está muerto!.”
She threw the baby hard against the wall and turned to me. “What did you do to my baby?”
The woman moved towards me, tears running down her face, her screams raw.
I hate to admit it, but I fainted at that moment.
The next day, I woke up in my bed. Maybe Johnny had taken me home, or he called one of my roommates to pick me up. Regardless, I was happy to be home… and alive. He had sent a text, just saying “I’m so sorry.” But I didn’t bother replying. I deleted his number, my Tinder and Bumble profiles, and then the apps themselves.
Dating would be off the table for a long, long time.
I’ll admit, I’m not sure if anyone will believe me. I’m still having trouble believing it myself. And just making sense of everything that happened. But I needed to tell someone. Thankfully it's been cathartic for me writing about all of this. It’s strange but it’s helped. The only thing is, I still can’t shake this feeling that I’m being watched.

Great feedback history so buy with confidence. Now through Tuesday, May 7, 8PM PDT / 11PM EDT only take an extra $5 off a total of $50 or more of items, $10 off $100 or more, $15 off $200 or more and $20 off $250 or more on top of already great prices (excluding the binoculars). You can also combine with items from the 48 Hour Sale Part II.
Ship to lower 48 states (open to shipping internationally and to AK & HI, please ask). Paypal Friends & Family preferred or add 3% for the Paypal Goods & Services fee. Just let me know which items you’d like and I’ll check the least expensive UPS and USPS tracked shipping. All sales are final. Thanks for looking!
1) Liteway Pyraomm Duo Tarp 2P Pyramid, Stealth Olive (just like MLD Duomid) + Liteway Pyraomm Mesh Half Inner, New (set up only once), $349 (Regularly $475 = Tarp $281 + Inner $194. Equivalent to MLD Duomid Tarp and Solomid XL mesh inner which sell for $470 = $290 + $180). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/Tq5mtRP - Extremely well-made pyramid shelter and generous half mesh inner - use the tarp alone, or the mesh alone on nice nights for stargazing, or both together for an ultralight double wall shelter. Fantastic bomber solo shelter, and the tarp works for two, but I’m always going on trips with my partner and we use a wider inner. Sheds wind far better than double trekking pole shelters. https://liteway.equipment/pyraomm-duo/pyraomm-duo-tarp https://liteway.equipment/pyraomm-duo-half-mesh
2) Hanchor Marl Large Backpack, 19-21 in. Torso, New, $239 (regularly $250 + $20 international shipping. Blows away Hyperlite Mountain Gear packs) - Top backpacking guide and author Andrew Skurka has praised the Hanchor Marl for its excellent construction, strong waterproof materials and light weight and has carried one on many trips. The Hanchor Marl blows away similar volume HMG packs for carrying capability, comfort and construction (incredible stitching), and at a much better price. Aluminum stays can also be shaped to exactly fit the curve of your back. The load lifters work great to keep weight off your shoulders. Bright interior makes it easy to find gear. Convenient hip pockets with waterproof zips. Clean, simple design is a pleasure to use, with everything you need and nothing you don’t. Large size typically fits 19-21 in. torsos (removable aluminum stays are 23.5 in long). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/fxTthYj
3) Ultimate Direction Fastpackher 30L, M/L, New, $139 (regularly $179.95 + tax) - Women's version of the above. Size goes by measurement around the widest part of the chest, the range is 36 in. to 48 in. and the pack is highly adjustable so you can dial it right in. The women's backpanel is only 1/2 in. narrower than the men's, so will fit men too. Just go to this link and click on "Sizing": https://ultimatedirection.com/fastpackher-30-2-0/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/ZfY5IB4
4) Celestron TrailSeeker ED 8 x 42 Top-Rated Waterproof Binoculars, New, $289 (regularly $379.95 + tax) - Top rated for its class by Cornell Ornithology’s Binocular Buying Guide: “Our overall top pick for image quality and comfort among binoculars under $650.” Ideal for birding, hunting and sporting events. And 8 x 42 is the ideal size for varied light conditions as it gives you much better light gathering and a brighter image than smaller 8 x 25 binoculars. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/celestron-trailseeker-ed-8x42-binoculars-our-review/ Photos: https://imgur.com/a/Qda4Pvc
5) * SOLD \* Gossamer Gear Mariposa Ultralight Backpack, RegulaMedium Torso (18-20 in), New - Ultralight yet durable and feature-rich backpack with storage up to 60L for longer sections and a solid track record of performance on major trails. It’s a thru-hiking classic. Lots of volume available at such low weight for big food loads between resupplies or for winter backpacking when you may have bulkier insulation, yet cinches down really well for when you don’t need as much space. This 2023 pack is functionally the same as the 2024 (the 2024 has a slightly different frame stay which functionally makes little to no difference - save over $125 with this one). Hip belt fits a very wide range from 30"-57.5" Photos: https://imgur.com/a/jbUMoct
6) Hennessy Hammock 4 Season Expedition with XXL Snake Skins, New, $245 (regularly $309.90 = $289.95 + $19.95 for the XXL Snakeskins). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/LZN8HI8 Not only is the HH Expedition one of the best, most comfortable and durable 4 season hammocks you can get, it’s also popular for summer use in areas of high bug pressure as the double bottom is impervious to the worst mosquitoes (mosquitoes can bite through single layer hammocks). Many militaries rely on HH hammocks for good reason. Comes with attached mosquito netting, detachable Hex rain fly, support ropes, compression sack with set up instructions on back, complimentary standard 42" / 107 cm long "Tree Hugger" webbing straps to protect tree bark, and an oversized open-cell foam pad. HH asymmetrical design is very comfortable compared to more classic hammock designs.
7) Granite Gear Blaze 60L Backpack Women’s Fit, Highly Adjustable Regular Frame (18-21 in. torso), Black, New, only $189 (regularly $299.94 + Tax). Photos: https://imgur.com/a/SF9XV3rOne of the most adjustable and comfortable lightweight load haulers. The capacity and generous extendable collar are great for longer trips or trips with heavier gear or a big water carry, yet easily cinch down for shorter trips. Women’s specific fit and frame is highly adjustable (also works great for men with narrower shoulder width). Makes a great winter pack too, with durable material and many lashing points.
8) Hillsound Weatherproof Packstack Pro Storage Sack, 40L Tall, New, $25 (regularly $35) weatherproof storage sack that made Outside Magazine's Gear Guide Editor's Choice Award. https://hillsound.com/products/packstackpro Photos: https://imgur.com/a/7wlWcDr
9) Hillsound Weatherproof Packstack Pro Storage Sack, 40L Short, New, $24 (regularly $34) - weatherproof storage sack that made Outside Magazine's Gear Guide Editor's Choice Award. https://hillsound.com/products/packstackpro Photos: https://imgur.com/a/7wlWcDr
10) COAST Dual LED Multi Tool, New, $30 (Regularly $49.99 + tax) - The LED150 Multi-Tool comes packed with 13 tools that can help you master any task or job. Tools: Spring-loaded pliers with wire cutter, 3.0 in. Blade, two built-in LEDs, Phillips (1) and flathead (3) screwdriver tips, bottle opener, wire stripper, can opener. 2 x CR1616 batteries included. With Coast’s commitment to quality, the LED150 Multi-Tool is backed by Coast’s lifetime warranty against defects in materials and workmanship. 4 in length closed. Never opened clear blister case has some small cracks in the back around the sheath. https://coastportland.com/products/led150 Photos: https://imgur.com/a/VryHhPy
11) COAST FDX300 Double Lock One-Handed Open Stainless Steel Folding Knife, 3 in. blade, New in package, 2 available, $45 for both (regularly each $30 + tax) - One-handed opening, double lock system for double safety, stainless steel handle, partially-serrated and partially-straight blade, ambidextrous opening, 3-position pocket clip, 7Cr17 stainless steel (also known as 68Cr17, a modified version of 440A steel, with more vanadium elements added to give it extra strength, increase toughness and wear resistance). Lifetime warranty. It’s the drop point version of this $29 COAST partially-serrated tanto: https://coastportland.com/collections/cutting-tools/products/fdx306 Photos: https://imgur.com/a/yxS7uno
12) Squeeze Water Filters & Water Pouches - Photos: https://imgur.com/a/EyGwPih
a) Squeeze 34 Oz. Personal Water Filtration Bottle SP140 with self-contained filter, New, $35 (regularly $50) - Just scoop water into the bottle and drink. Filters up to 100,000 gallons. Highest level of filtration at 0.1 micron absolute. https://www.amazon.com/Sawyer-Products-SP140-Personal-34-Ounce/dp/B005SO8VAE
b) * SOLD \* Sawyer Squeeze Water Filtration System SP131, New - Highest level filtration to 0.1 micron absolute. With Squeeze Filter with Push/Pull Cap, 16 ounce Collapsible Pouch, Two ounce Collapsible Pouch, Backwashing Plunger, Cleaning Coupling, Inline Adapters, Drinking Straw or Gravity Tube, Mesh Carrying Pouch (can also be used to create gravity water filtration system). Identical filter to below c) SP129. https://www.sawyereurope.com/water-filtration/sawyer-sp131-squeeze-water-filter-system
c) Sawyer Squeeze Water Filtration System SP129, New $34 (Regularly $46 + tax) - Highest level filtration to 0.1 micron absolute. Identical filter to above b) SP131. Includes Two Reusable 32-Oz, Bpa-Free Collapsible Pouches That Roll Up Tightly For Easy Packing, Drinking Straw, One Set Of Sawyer Inline Hydration Pack Adapters For Filter, And Mesh Storage Bag. https://www.amazon.com/Sawyer-Products-SP129-Filtration-Squeezable/dp/B00B1OSU4W/ref=sr_1_3
d) * SOLD \* Sawyer All-In-One Water Filtration System SP181 for emergency use, remote cabins and campsites, New - Gives you the ability to use the filter attached to a squeeze pouch, attached to a standard 5 gallon bucket, or attached to your home faucet. The "build your own gravity system" can yield up to 540 gallons of clean water per day from any fresh water source. Kit includes: the Sawyer 0.1 Micron Absolute Micron Hollow Fiber Membrane Screw On/Off Filter, 32 oz Squeeze Pouch, 2 Pop-up Drinking Spouts, 1 bucket adapter kit, 1 faucet adapter, and 1 filter cleaner. Life Expectancy: 1 Million Gallons Guaranteed. https://www.walmart.com/ip/Sawyer-PointONE-All-in-One-Filte21811661 Photo of everything included: https://imgur.com/a/Ve8gn98
e) Sawyer Tap Filter for fast emergency water & for cabin use, New, $36 (Regularly $48 + tax) - Great for muddy tap water following pipeline work, use at a cabin or in an emergency. With tap filter, backwash adapter, threaded spigot adapter, dual threaded adapter, tap gauge and extension hose. Highest level filtration 0.1 micron absolute.
f1) Box of Two 64 oz Sawyer Squeeze Pouches, New, $10.50 (Regularly $14 + tax) - 1 left. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B005SO8SPC/ref=twister_B08NGGJMD6
f2) * SOLD \* Box of Three 32 oz Sawyer Squeeze Pouches https://www.amazon.com/dp/B005SO8RQM/ref=twister_B08NGGJMD6
f3) Box of Three 16 oz Sawyer Squeeze Pouches, New, $6.75 (regulary $9 + tax) - 2 boxes available. https://www.highwaterfilters.com/products/sp116-sawyer-5-l-16oz-squeezable-pouch-set-of-3

Good evening Appliances!
A few days ago I declined the services of an appliance technician and opted to repair the leak on my Frigidaire refrigerator as I did not trust his competency or integrity.
I installed a 'bullet piecing valve' on the brass piping and charged the unit with two whole cans of EZ Chill freon but my unit is still not cooling, leading me to believe that there is another issue with my units.
Against my better logical judgement I have attempted to get into contact with the appliance repair person who originally looked at my refrigerator but thus far he has not returned my calls, text, or emails. Liklely because he knows he did not have the ability to properly diagnose my refrigerator.
Any suggestions would be appreciated as myself and my partner have been surviving off of McChickens for over a week.

Trip review (without budget, will do a separate budget breakdown when I get all the costs organized)
Fly in Sunday April 28, fly out Saturday Saturday May 4; Disneyland and DCA Monday-Friday park hopper tickets; Party: 2 families of 4 with neurodivergent children who qualified for DAS (kids ages: 3, 6, 6, 13). One support worker from Sunday-Wednesday. Had Genie+ on two of the adult tickets. Stayed in two rooms (Parlour A and C) at Anaheim Dessert Inn and Suites. My mom (grandma) was supposed to come but she had some medical issues arise right before the trip. My mom kindly pixie dusted my sister’s regular support worker with her hotel room, flight and park ticket and we then paid her food and wages. She was a great asset for us and if you have multiple neurodivergent and/or disabled kids with differing needs, I recommend a higher adult to child ratio.
Flew Air Canada YVR to SNA. I enjoyed flying here instead of LAX. I didn’t notice the harsh/quick landing that others have mentioned.
Transportation from SNA to Anaheim Desert Inn and Suites. We scheduled EVE for 12:30 pm pickup and bought tickets. The app kept changing the pickup time and pushing it further out. By 1:15 pm the 4 kids were done (and so were all the adults). It was too late to wait even 5 minutes for an Uber so we got 3 taxis to transport everyone and their luggage. We could have fit in 2 taxis but one of the kids needed their own space at this stage. The dysregulation was high! We brought car seats for the kids. I am not at all happy about EVE and now have unused tickets and it certainly put a damper on the start of the trip. If we ever do another trip we plan to get taxis right away.
Motel: Anaheim Dessert Inn and Suites. Our rooms were not ready early, so they stored our luggage while we walked down the street for food. We had Walmart grocery deliver some food to the hotel. The rooms were plain but worked for us. The beds were firm but not as hard as some I’ve experienced. One of my kiddos used the pull-out couch and slept well. We brought out rain makers for sleep so the outside noise wasn’t too bad (except the fireworks were very loud). The windows have slats, not curtains so light filtered in easily. It was dark enough at night, but naps were more challenging for settling my youngest. Each day our support worker gathered some basic foods from the breakfast buffet for us for the following morning so our kids didn’t have the extra transition to the buffet room. One issue for us is that the food kept changing (the oatmeal flavour), cereal type, which we were relying on as a safe food for our kids. We had even called ahead to ask detailed questions about the food and it was different than what we were told. Had I had the correct information I would have been able to adjust my Walmart order. The bread was stale which unfortunately was a no-go for one of my kids. So, if you have sensory eaters this buffet is not reliable. It also doesn’t start until 7 am but we always wanted to be walking out the door by 7 am for rope drop.
Parks: We switched parks after our mid-day motel break on a couple of the days (star wars nites). Even with 5 days we couldn’t get everything we wanted done. My kids could rope drop but our mid day breaks were long from 12-4ish and then my kids couldn’t really make it past about 7 pm in the park so it was more like “half” days worth of activities in the park. The kids were ride-focused and didn’t seem interested in environment entertainment. Our last day we all enjoyed the Magic Happens parade at 5:30 pm. We sat on the ground at about 5:05 pm near small world and ate dinner while waiting. I think you could have arrived at 5:15 and still found seats for a small group. Favourite ride for the kids in Disneyland was Big Thunder Mountain and Radiator Springs Racers in DCA. My partner and I had to pay the ILL for Rise of the Resistance. I wore ear plugs and my kids wore noise defenders most of the time in the parks. We mobile ordered most of the time. On our last day we had breakfast with Minnie at the Plaza Inn at 10:20 am. My kids really enjoyed the characters and shocking us all my little one asked for a hug from Tigger after Pooh gave him the best hug. I wish that Minnie circulated at the tables with the photographer. Her interaction was the poorest because it was so quick and my kids were still getting warmed up to the environment. My 3 year old decided to start potty training the week before we went on the trip and insisted on going to the bathroom SO MANY TIMES. And of course, the kids could not seem to coordinate their bathroom breaks so I think I spent half my time in all the bathrooms in the parks! Definitely something I hadn’t considered when I was planning this trip.
Highlights for me: my 3 year old squealing with joy riding Big Thunder. My 6 year old telling me this was the best vacation ever but also that she knows I love her and I don’t need to pay for things to show her my love (that was said about the character breakfast) but also she wants an Olaf bubble wand. LOL. My favourite ride is Indy and it didn’t disappoint me. I was proud of myself for suggesting the Chewy mode on Smuggler’s Run to a group of strangers (I was single rider with social anxiety), and they all agreed though I’m not sure they had the best time. I loved it! My partner did not think he’d like Disney that much, but he made many surprising comments about how great everything is. Overall, it was a successful Disneyland trip and I sure hope I get to do it again someday.
Tips for neurodivergent kids/adults: ear plugs, sun hats, portable personal fan, airtags/tile on kids, parent contact info on a sticker mailing label stuck to the back of the kid’s shirts, leash/strap for elopers, mid-day hotel breaks/naps/screens, pack or buy safe foods. Unfortunately, even foods that are “safe” at home in Canada didn’t translate to the Walmart order with US brands. My biggest struggle on the trip was trying to keep the kids fed. If I did it again, I might bring a suitcase full of food! If you qualify for DAS, this allowed us to access attractions that we otherwise couldn’t. Rope dropping was a must for the kids to get on rides without the DAS. I found the park to be much louder than I remember from 15 years ago. I think there are numerous places that Disney could reduce the volume to give us sensitive auditory processors more of a break. Even with noise protection, my kids could not sit at the Fantasyland Theatre while the Pixar Fest photo op was going on. The music was deafening. I think the volume could be significantly reduced across the park without harm to neurotypical auditory processors and allow a much more accessible experience for neurodivergent auditory processors.
Tips for Canadians/International guests: We used the Wise visa debit card with 0.5% currency exchange fee (this is compared to the typical 2.5% exchange fee on most credit cards). The Wise worked well for all purchases in and out of the park. My husband only had one situation where tapping with his phone Wallet didn’t work and he had to use the physical Wise card for the purchase. We used the hotel address as the billing address for our Walmart order. Additionally, my sister's credit card was rejected likely because she had to call the bank and approve a US dollar cost. Instead we used our Wise card and it worked fine (with the hotel billing address).
Happy to answer any questions!

CondoMounts CLMTVA1044: The Ultimate TV Mount for Pillars
When it comes to optimizing your living space and enhancing your viewing experience, the right TV mount can make all the difference. Enter the CondoMounts CLMTVA1044, a game-changing solution for those seeking a sturdy, no-drill mounting option for their television. This innovative mount is designed specifically for pillars and columns, making it a perfect choice for homes with unique architectures, as well as outdoor areas like gazebos and patios.
Why the CondoMounts CLMTVA1044 Stands Out
The CondoMounts CLMTVA1044 offers several distinctive features that set it apart from traditional wall mounts:

1. No-Drill Installation: This mount’s unique design allows you to secure your TV to any pillar or column without the need for drilling, preserving the integrity of your structures and eliminating the hassle of permanent alterations.
   
2. Full Motion Flexibility: Enjoy the freedom to tilt, swivel, and rotate your TV. Whether you're combating glare during the day or adjusting the angle for a more comfortable view, the CLMTVA1044 accommodates your every need.
   
3. Universal Compatibility: Designed to fit televisions from 32 to 70 inches and capable of supporting up to 80 lbs, this mount is versatile enough to hold most TV models securely.
   
4. Easy Setup and High Durability: The quality materials and thoughtful design ensure that installation is straightforward and that your mount stands the test of time, even in outdoor settings.
   

Where to Find the CondoMounts CLMTVA1044
To make this innovative TV mount a part of your home or outdoor space, you can easily purchase it through various platforms:

• Directly from the CondoMounts website]https://condomounts.com/products/column-tv-mount)** for detailed product information and support.
  
• On Amazon Canada. — https://amzn.to/4dqTmg8
  

Amazon USA — https://amzn.to/44Ax0oA
Amazon Australia — https://amzn.asia/d/1k2crI9
Amazon UK — https://amzn.eu/d/6pbMAsL
for convenient shipping options across the globe.

• Available at Best Buy Canada https://www.bestbuy.ca/en-ca/product/condomounts-full-motion-large-pillar-tv-mount-column-tv-mount-round-square-tv-post-mount-no-drill-holds-80lbs-fits-32-70-tvs-fits-pillars-8-in-wider-white-strap/17223036 , offering local pickup and quick delivery.
  
• Check out Wayfair
  

https://www.wayfair.ca/Condo-Mounts--CondoMounts-NO-Drill-Full-Motion-Pillar-TV-Mount-Holds-80lbs-Fits-8-and-Wider-CLMTVA1044-L1562-K~CEDO1011.html for reviews and competitive pricing.

• Or explore options at Walmart https://www.walmart.com/ip/CondoMounts-Full-Motion-SMALL-Pillar-TV-Mount-Gazebo-Round-Square-Post-NO-Drill-Holds-80lbs-Fits-32-70-4-12-White-Strap/1402148818 , where affordability meets variety.

The CondoMounts CLMTVA1044 is more than just a TV mount; it's a practical, stylish, and innovative solution for those who want to maximize their space and enhance their viewing experience without compromising the aesthetics or integrity of their home’s structural elements. Whether it’s for indoor ambiance or outdoor reliability, this mount is sure to elevate your entertainment setup. Join the revolution in home entertainment mounting solutions – choose CondoMounts CLMTVA1044 and see the difference for yourself!

I hope to live a long life with my kids. I would never do anything. I’m saying that this feels like death living this way. I’d do anything in the world to get better. If I woke up tomorrow and they told me they have treatment I’d be the first one.
It’s so terrible and inhuman knowing you’re dying and your body is shutting down. I live my life everyday making sure my kids have what they need and I make it special daily. Even if it’s they want a slush, then we get it. If they want to buy something I usually say yes as long as it’s not excessive. Making good lunches with surprises at school, buying clothes my daughter likes if I have the money, I just want them to remeber good things and nostalgia with me. Not remember the suffering I am going through. If that means buying my son a monster truck at Walmart then that’s what I’ll do.
I want them to remember memories. My life was taken from me in 2022 and I was never the same and they lost their amazing mother two year ago. Their lives have drastically changed but I continue to do my best to make sure they live a good life while I’m alive.
I know slowly I am losing my memory and ability to remember what I am doing in the moment and remeber my kids births and lives but I don’t let them know this. I fake it all day while i suffer physically and mentally. They have no idea I don’t remeber who they are or don’t know who they look like and looking at their names.
I am making sure I do my best to keep our memories alive while I’m alive. I want them to remeber good things not the misery since 2022.

Mr. Faskell has cut my hair since I moved to the city about three years ago.
He’s an older guy, maybe fifties or sixties, and he possesses that look and drawl that makes me think he's from up North somewhere. He could be from New York, Maine, or even the Great Lakes area, but I never asked him where. He’s not a big guy, maybe a buck twenty in the rain, and he cuts my hair just the way I like it. High and tight on the sides, leave some on top so whoever I’m sleeping with has something to play with, and neaten up my sideburns. I can’t grow a real beard or he’d probably trim that for me too.
The best part is that he does it all for free!
Hard to believe, I know, but it seems there was a cost after all.
Our relationship started easily enough. I had an interview with the city, Maintenance and Custodial, and I wanted to look sharp and make a good impression. Everything other than that paid nothing or barely nothing, and I really wanted to lock this job down. I had a nice set of interview clothes, some comfortable business shoes, and a winning smile, and I needed a sharp haircut to seal the deal.
That is where the problem lies.
My hair grows abnormally fast. It always has, and when I was a kid my Dad used to bemoan the fact. He made jokes about going to barber school or buying stock in Master Cuts, but he always understood that when it was time for a cut, it was TIME for a CUT. If you let it go longer than two weeks without a cut, it just turns into a shapeless mass. By the end of week three, I looked like a sheepdog and Dad would look over his paper and sigh before saying he would take me to the barber.
Faskel’s Hair and Beards was about a block from my house, and when I stuck my head in to see their prices, Mr. Faskell looked up and smiled at me over the pile of hair he was sweeping up.
Then, suddenly, he took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again I asked if everything was okay.
“Just fine, young man. Say, you look like a man in need of a haircut, am I right?”
I told him he sure was and he invited me in and told me to have a seat. He had about a million questions on that first visit. No, I didn’t usually let it get this long. I liked it this way but a little long on top. No, I didn’t use any special shampoo, just dandruff shampoo from the Dollar General. No, I wasn’t really prone to dry scalp, but a fella can never be too careful. On and on and on and on until, finally, it was done. He had cut it just right, the perfect length, the perfect fade, everything. I asked him what I owed him, and he told me it was free.
“Come on,” I’d said, “You gotta charge me something.”
“I let my customers pay what they can afford,” he said, “So whatever you can afford is fine with me. Think of it as a tip.”
I was okay with that and walked out with a free haircut while Mr. Faskell waved me out with a ten-dollar tip.
I left with a spring in my step. I felt like a new man, and I was ready for that job interview. I went home, got a shower, and when I looked in the mirror, I knew I had this.
The next time I went to see Mr. Faskell, I left him a twenty-dollar tip and told him it was all thanks to him that I had gotten my awesome new job. For the next couple of years, I always went to Mr. Faskell when I needed a cut. If I had a date coming up, I went to Faskells. Promotion interview at work? Faskells. I told friends about his shop. I went there just to get a touch-up and talk with the old fella. In no time at all, Mr, Faskell and I were friends. He liked the same sports team I did, watched a lot of the same movies and TV shows I did, and even liked a lot of the same classic rock that I did.
It was great, and I always looked forward to my bimonthly haircut. Then, about two months ago, it all changed.
I had come in to get my bimonthly cut, telling Mr. Faskell about the previous week as he cut and styled my hair. He was always meticulous, getting everything just right as he cut and trimmed, and when he turned me around to look into the mirror, it was the same way I had gotten it for the last three years. I thanked him, handed him ten bucks, and told him I’d see him soon.
“Of course,” Mr. Faskell said, sweeping up the hair, “Come back anytime.”
I was leaving, almost a block up the street, when I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses. They were my brand new Oakleys and they had cost quite a bit of cash. I remembered having them when I came up, taking them off my head, and setting them down at the station Mr. Faskell used. No problem, I thought, I’ll just go back and get them.
I stepped in, saying I had forgotten my sunglasses and was just gonna grab them, and that's when I saw him.
Mr. Faskell was looking up guiltily, his eyes panicked.
He was down on all fours, eating the hair he had swept up off the ground like he was a cow in the field. When he turned, I could see pieces of hair sticking to his lip like accusations. He stood up, whipping himself off, brushing at his mouth as he tried to explain.
“I know how this looks, and I’ll admit that yes, I was eating your hair. But, you have to understand, your hair is what I look forward to. I don’t eat just anyone's hair, well, I used to. Now I can’t wait to see you come in so I can eat something good. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not crazy. I’M NOT CRAZY!” he shouted, getting up as he stalked toward me.
He seemed to realize that saying that made him sound crazy, so he switched gears.
“Haven’t I always done good work for you? There's nowhere in this town that you would get a haircut for less than twenty-five dollars. I cut your hair for tips. I’ve cut your hair for the dollars in your pocket. I’ve been good to you, and you’ve been a good customer. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay? Let’s just go back to,” but I didn’t hear the rest.
I snatched up my sunglasses and was out the door before he could say another word.
I spent a while thinking about that, and the more I processed it, the worse it seemed to get. It began to haunt my dreams, seeing him bent over and eating the hair straight off the floor, looking back at me and grinning with my hair in his teeth, and I would wake up in a cold sweat. I know, it's not a particularly scary thing, but it freaked the hell out of me. I don’t really like it when people put hair in their mouths. I had a girl in elementary school who used to chew her pigtails and it bred a lifetime phobia in me. Just the thought of wet hair in someone's mouth makes me want to puke, and I can’t even touch someone's hair without cringing if they have a wig.
A weird collection of phobias, but they’re mine.
It only took a couple of weeks before I started seeing new growth. My hair just grows too fast, and after three weeks my boss commented that I was looking shabby. He handed me a twenty out of his own wallet and told me to get a trim over lunch. I took it and started looking for somewhere to get a trim. The city had quite a few shops, but it seemed like whenever I was in one, I caught someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. It was never anything I could prove, just a feeling, and when I looked up, I could almost catch a glimpse of Mr. Faskell. He was gone when I looked, but it made me extremely paranoid.
I became aware of more than a glimpse as the weeks went on. When I rode the bus to work, I caught the familiar deep inhale of someone smelling my hair. When I was standing in a lunch line, I felt my hair move as someone inhaled. When I was at Walmart buying groceries, someone actually touched my hair, but they were gone when I turned around. It led me to become something of a recluse, and I only left the house to go to work.
Over time, my hair grew out and I decided I would have to get another cut. I went to bed, setting my alarm so I could get up early enough to get to the Master Cuts down on Bonnie. It was Saturday, I had the day off, and I had chores to do before I got to the business of relaxing. As I slipped off to sleep, I fell into a familiar dream, a dream that had plagued me for weeks. I was sitting in the barber chair at Mr. Faskell’s, the cape falling around me like a spider web, and the old man asking me if it was too tight. I didn’t say anything, I was too scared to speak, and as the scissors began to clip, I trembled in fear. I didn’t dare look back at the old man. I just knew his real face would be replaced by a monstrous visage and I would wake up panting and looking around for nothing at all.
When the alarm went off, I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and start the shower.
My bare shoulder itched, and when I went to wipe it off, I noticed there was hair clinging to my sweaty hand.
Not a lot, just leavings.
Like the leavings you find after a haircut.
I ran to the bathroom and found that my hair was cut just the way I liked it. The sides were high and tight, the top was manageable but still thick, and my bangs were perfect. Everything was just as it usually was, and I felt a cold chill run through me that had nothing to do with air conditioning. I called the landlord, had the locks changed, and reported to the police that someone had broken into my house and cut my hair.
The police didn’t really take it seriously. They made jokes about a “Midnight Barber” and asked if I’d left a tip under my pillow. I told them about Mr. Faskell, but when I gave them the address, they just shook their heads and walked away. They thought I was joking with them, they didn’t believe a word of what I’d told them, and as I ran the shower, I remember sitting under the water for a very long time and just letting it run over me.
The bits of hair flowing down the drain felt like a betrayal.
Two weeks later, I woke up with another fresh haircut.
I called the police but they rolled their eyes and told me to calm down. I told them it was hard for me to calm down when someone was breaking into my house and cutting my hair. I demanded they go check on Mr. Faskell, and told them right where his shop was, but they looked less amused this time at the suggestion. I asked if they had been to talk to him yet, and told them he had been there for three years, but they just told me it hadn’t been funny the first time and it wasn’t funny now.
“Why would it be funny?” I asked, having to stop myself from grabbing one of them.
“Because Faskells has never been open. It was a prop for the city's revitalization project, like Coolie Flowers across the street from it or Green Butcher beside it. It’s set dressing, it’s never open. Mr. Faskell was a guy who owned a barber shop in the twenties. He’s dead, there is no Faskell who cuts hair.”
They left, and that left me very rattled.
Mr. Faskell isn’t a ghost, I know that. I have friends who go to him. I have felt him touch me. He’s flesh and blood, just like I am, I’m sure of it! The fact that he eats hair is incidental. The man is real. But if he isn’t Mr. Faskell, then who is he? How does he keep breaking into my house? I have a window in my room, but it's barred with a piece of broom handle and I live on the third floor!
I changed the locks again, I wedged a chair under my door, and when I finally made myself calm down enough to sleep, I hoped it would end.
I woke up completely bald.
Not buzzed, not at a zero guard, but bald. Like, someone shaved my head in my sleep and took the hair. They got my eyebrows too, my five o’clock shadow, and my thick sideburns. I was as smooth and hairless as a newborn baby. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the cops, they won’t believe me. I can’t call the landlord, he’s replaced the locks twice now and is getting angry about it. I can’t afford to move, I can’t leave my job, I’m stuck.
What I did find, however, was a message left on my nightstand. I’m sure the cops will say that I wrote it, but I know I didn’t. There’s hair on it and it's written in a heavy hand like a kid's scribblings. It’s done on the back of an ad for Faskell’s Hair and Beards, and the implication was pretty obvious.
“Come see me when it grows back. If you don’t, it makes no difference. I know where to find you.”

Mr. Faskell has cut my hair since I moved to the city about three years ago.
He’s an older guy, maybe fifties or sixties, and he possesses that look and drawl that makes me think he's from up North somewhere. He could be from New York, Maine, or even the Great Lakes area, but I never asked him where. He’s not a big guy, maybe a buck twenty in the rain, and he cuts my hair just the way I like it. High and tight on the sides, leave some on top so whoever I’m sleeping with has something to play with, and neaten up my sideburns. I can’t grow a real beard or he’d probably trim that for me too.
The best part is that he does it all for free!
Hard to believe, I know, but it seems there was a cost after all.
Our relationship started easily enough. I had an interview with the city, Maintenance and Custodial, and I wanted to look sharp and make a good impression. Everything other than that paid nothing or barely nothing, and I really wanted to lock this job down. I had a nice set of interview clothes, some comfortable business shoes, and a winning smile, and I needed a sharp haircut to seal the deal.
That is where the problem lies.
My hair grows abnormally fast. It always has, and when I was a kid my Dad used to bemoan the fact. He made jokes about going to barber school or buying stock in Master Cuts, but he always understood that when it was time for a cut, it was TIME for a CUT. If you let it go longer than two weeks without a cut, it just turns into a shapeless mass. By the end of week three, I looked like a sheepdog and Dad would look over his paper and sigh before saying he would take me to the barber.
Faskel’s Hair and Beards was about a block from my house, and when I stuck my head in to see their prices, Mr. Faskell looked up and smiled at me over the pile of hair he was sweeping up.
Then, suddenly, he took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again I asked if everything was okay.
“Just fine, young man. Say, you look like a man in need of a haircut, am I right?”
I told him he sure was and he invited me in and told me to have a seat.
He had about a million questions on that first visit. No, I didn’t usually let it get this long. I liked it this way but a little long on top. No, I didn’t use any special shampoo, just dandruff shampoo from the Dollar General. No, I wasn’t really prone to dry scalp, but a fella can never be too careful. On and on and on and on until, finally, it was done. He had cut it just right, the perfect length, the perfect fade, everything. I asked him what I owed him, and he told me it was free.
“Come on,” I’d said, “You gotta charge me something.”
“I let my customers pay what they can afford,” he said, “So whatever you can afford is fine with me. Think of it as a tip.”
I was okay with that and walked out with a free haircut while Mr. Faskell waved me out with a ten-dollar tip.
I left with a spring in my step. I felt like a new man, and I was ready for that job interview. I went home, got a shower, and when I looked in the mirror, I knew I had this.
The next time I went to see Mr. Faskell, I left him a twenty-dollar tip and told him it was all thanks to him that I had gotten my awesome new job.
For the next couple of years, I always went to Mr. Faskell when I needed a cut. If I had a date coming up, I went to Faskells. Promotion interview at work? Faskells. I told friends about his shop. I went there just to get a touch-up and talk with the old fella. In no time at all, Mr, Faskell and I were friends. He liked the same sports team I did, watched a lot of the same movies and TV shows I did, and even liked a lot of the same classic rock that I did.
It was great, and I always looked forward to my bimonthly haircut.
Then, about two months ago, it all changed.
I had come in to get my bimonthly cut, telling Mr. Faskell about the previous week as he cut and styled my hair. He was always meticulous, getting everything just right as he cut and trimmed, and when he turned me around to look into the mirror, it was the same way I had gotten it for the last three years. I thanked him, handed him ten bucks, and told him I’d see him soon.
“Of course,” Mr. Faskell said, sweeping up the hair, “Come back anytime.”
I was leaving, almost a block up the street, when I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses. They were my brand new Oakleys and they had cost quite a bit of cash. I remembered having them when I came up, taking them off my head, and setting them down at the station Mr. Faskell used. No problem, I thought, I’ll just go back and get them.
I stepped in, saying I had forgotten my sunglasses and was just gonna grab them, and that's when I saw him.
Mr. Faskell was looking up guiltily, his eyes panicked.
He was down on all fours, eating the hair he had swept up off the ground like he was a cow in the field. When he turned, I could see pieces of hair sticking to his lip like accusations. He stood up, whipping himself off, brushing at his mouth as he tried to explain.
“I know how this looks, and I’ll admit that yes, I was eating your hair. But, you have to understand, your hair is what I look forward to. I don’t eat just anyone's hair, well, I used to. Now I can’t wait to see you come in so I can eat something good. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not crazy. I’M NOT CRAZY!” he shouted, getting up as he stalked toward me.
He seemed to realize that saying that made him sound crazy, so he switched gears.
“Haven’t I always done good work for you? There's nowhere in this town that you would get a haircut for less than twenty-five dollars. I cut your hair for tips. I’ve cut your hair for the dollars in your pocket. I’ve been good to you, and you’ve been a good customer. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay? Let’s just go back to,” but I didn’t hear the rest.
I snatched up my sunglasses and was out the door before he could say another word.
I spent a while thinking about that, and the more I processed it, the worse it seemed to get. It began to haunt my dreams, seeing him bent over and eating the hair straight off the floor, looking back at me and grinning with my hair in his teeth, and I would wake up in a cold sweat. I know, it's not a particularly scary thing, but it freaked the hell out of me. I don’t really like it when people put hair in their mouths. I had a girl in elementary school who used to chew her pigtails and it bred a lifetime phobia in me. Just the thought of wet hair in someone's mouth makes me want to puke, and I can’t even touch someone's hair without cringing if they have a wig.
A weird collection of phobias, but they’re mine.
It only took a couple of weeks before I started seeing new growth. My hair just grows too fast, and after three weeks my boss commented that I was looking shabby. He handed me a twenty out of his own wallet and told me to get a trim over lunch. I took it and started looking for somewhere to get a trim. The city had quite a few shops, but it seemed like whenever I was in one, I caught someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. It was never anything I could prove, just a feeling, and when I looked up, I could almost catch a glimpse of Mr. Faskell. He was gone when I looked, but it made me extremely paranoid.
I became aware of more than a glimpse as the weeks went on. When I rode the bus to work, I caught the familiar deep inhale of someone smelling my hair. When I was standing in a lunch line, I felt my hair move as someone inhaled. When I was at Walmart buying groceries, someone actually touched my hair, but they were gone when I turned around. It led me to become something of a recluse, and I only left the house to go to work.
Over time, my hair grew out and I decided I would have to get another cut.
I went to bed, setting my alarm so I could get up early enough to get to the Master Cuts down on Bonnie. It was Saturday, I had the day off, and I had chores to do before I got to the business of relaxing. As I slipped off to sleep, I fell into a familiar dream, a dream that had plagued me for weeks. I was sitting in the barber chair at Mr. Faskell’s, the cape falling around me like a spider web, and the old man asking me if it was too tight. I didn’t say anything, I was too scared to speak, and as the scissors began to clip, I trembled in fear. I didn’t dare look back at the old man. I just knew his real face would be replaced by a monstrous visage and I would wake up panting and looking around for nothing at all.
When the alarm went off, I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and start the shower.
My bare shoulder itched, and when I went to wipe it off, I noticed there was hair clinging to my sweaty hand.
Not a lot, just leavings.
Like the leavings you find after a haircut.
I ran to the bathroom and found that my hair was cut just the way I liked it. The sides were high and tight, the top was manageable but still thick, and my bangs were perfect. Everything was just as it usually was, and I felt a cold chill run through me that had nothing to do with air conditioning.
I called the landlord, had the locks changed, and reported to the police that someone had broken into my house and cut my hair.
The police didn’t really take it seriously. They made jokes about a “Midnight Barber” and asked if I’d left a tip under my pillow. I told them about Mr. Faskell, but when I gave them the address, they just shook their heads and walked away. They thought I was joking with them, they didn’t believe a word of what I’d told them, and as I ran the shower, I remember sitting under the water for a very long time and just letting it run over me.
The bits of hair flowing down the drain felt like a betrayal.
Two weeks later, I woke up with another fresh haircut.
I called the police but they rolled their eyes and told me to calm down. I told them it was hard for me to calm down when someone was breaking into my house and cutting my hair. I demanded they go check on Mr. Faskell, and told them right where his shop was, but they looked less amused this time at the suggestion. I asked if they had been to talk to him yet, and told them he had been there for three years, but they just told me it hadn’t been funny the first time and it wasn’t funny now.
“Why would it be funny?” I asked, having to stop myself from grabbing one of them.
“Because Faskells has never been open. It was a prop for the city's revitalization project, like Coolie Flowers across the street from it or Green Butcher beside it. It’s set dressing, it’s never open. Mr. Faskell was a guy who owned a barber shop in the twenties. He’s dead, there is no Faskell who cuts hair.”
They left, and that left me very rattled.
Mr. Faskell isn’t a ghost, I know that. I have friends who go to him. I have felt him touch me. He’s flesh and blood, just like I am, I’m sure of it! The fact that he eats hair is incidental. The man is real. But if he isn’t Mr. Faskell, then who is he? How does he keep breaking into my house? I have a window in my room, but it's barred with a piece of broom handle and I live on the third floor!
I changed the locks again, I wedged a chair under my door, and when I finally made myself calm down enough to sleep, I hoped it would end.
I woke up completely bald.
Not buzzed, not at a zero guard, but bald. Like, someone shaved my head in my sleep and took the hair. They got my eyebrows too, my five o’clock shadow, and my thick sideburns. I was as smooth and hairless as a newborn baby. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the cops, they won’t believe me. I can’t call the landlord, he’s replaced the locks twice now and is getting angry about it. I can’t afford to move, I can’t leave my job, I’m stuck.
What I did find, however, was a message left on my nightstand. I’m sure the cops will say that I wrote it, but I know I didn’t. There’s hair on it and it's written in a heavy hand like a kid's scribblings. It’s done on the back of an ad for Faskell’s Hair and Beards, and the implication was pretty obvious.
“Come see me when it grows back. If you don’t, it makes no difference. I know where to find you.”

Mr. Faskell has cut my hair since I moved to the city about three years ago.
He’s an older guy, maybe fifties or sixties, and he possesses that look and drawl that makes me think he's from up North somewhere. He could be from New York, Maine, or even the Great Lakes area, but I never asked him where. He’s not a big guy, maybe a buck twenty in the rain, and he cuts my hair just the way I like it. High and tight on the sides, leave some on top so whoever I’m sleeping with has something to play with, and neaten up my sideburns. I can’t grow a real beard or he’d probably trim that for me too.
The best part is that he does it all for free!
Hard to believe, I know, but it seems there was a cost after all.
Our relationship started easily enough. I had an interview with the city, Maintenance and Custodial, and I wanted to look sharp and make a good impression. Everything other than that paid nothing or barely nothing, and I really wanted to lock this job down. I had a nice set of interview clothes, some comfortable business shoes, and a winning smile, and I needed a sharp haircut to seal the deal.
That is where the problem lies.
My hair grows abnormally fast. It always has, and when I was a kid my Dad used to bemoan the fact. He made jokes about going to barber school or buying stock in Master Cuts, but he always understood that when it was time for a cut, it was TIME for a CUT. If you let it go longer than two weeks without a cut, it just turns into a shapeless mass. By the end of week three, I looked like a sheepdog and Dad would look over his paper and sigh before saying he would take me to the barber.
Faskel’s Hair and Beards was about a block from my house, and when I stuck my head in to see their prices, Mr. Faskell looked up and smiled at me over the pile of hair he was sweeping up.
Then, suddenly, he took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again I asked if everything was okay.
“Just fine, young man. Say, you look like a man in need of a haircut, am I right?”
I told him he sure was and he invited me in and told me to have a seat.
He had about a million questions on that first visit. No, I didn’t usually let it get this long. I liked it this way but a little long on top. No, I didn’t use any special shampoo, just dandruff shampoo from the Dollar General. No, I wasn’t really prone to dry scalp, but a fella can never be too careful. On and on and on and on until, finally, it was done. He had cut it just right, the perfect length, the perfect fade, everything. I asked him what I owed him, and he told me it was free.
“Come on,” I’d said, “You gotta charge me something.”
“I let my customers pay what they can afford,” he said, “So whatever you can afford is fine with me. Think of it as a tip.”
I was okay with that and walked out with a free haircut while Mr. Faskell waved me out with a ten-dollar tip.
I left with a spring in my step. I felt like a new man, and I was ready for that job interview. I went home, got a shower, and when I looked in the mirror, I knew I had this.
The next time I went to see Mr. Faskell, I left him a twenty-dollar tip and told him it was all thanks to him that I had gotten my awesome new job.
For the next couple of years, I always went to Mr. Faskell when I needed a cut. If I had a date coming up, I went to Faskells. Promotion interview at work? Faskells. I told friends about his shop. I went there just to get a touch-up and talk with the old fella. In no time at all, Mr, Faskell and I were friends. He liked the same sports team I did, watched a lot of the same movies and TV shows I did, and even liked a lot of the same classic rock that I did.
It was great, and I always looked forward to my bimonthly haircut.
Then, about two months ago, it all changed.
I had come in to get my bimonthly cut, telling Mr. Faskell about the previous week as he cut and styled my hair. He was always meticulous, getting everything just right as he cut and trimmed, and when he turned me around to look into the mirror, it was the same way I had gotten it for the last three years. I thanked him, handed him ten bucks, and told him I’d see him soon.
“Of course,” Mr. Faskell said, sweeping up the hair, “Come back anytime.”
I was leaving, almost a block up the street, when I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses. They were my brand new Oakleys and they had cost quite a bit of cash. I remembered having them when I came up, taking them off my head, and setting them down at the station Mr. Faskell used. No problem, I thought, I’ll just go back and get them.
I stepped in, saying I had forgotten my sunglasses and was just gonna grab them, and that's when I saw him.
Mr. Faskell was looking up guiltily, his eyes panicked.
He was down on all fours, eating the hair he had swept up off the ground like he was a cow in the field. When he turned, I could see pieces of hair sticking to his lip like accusations. He stood up, whipping himself off, brushing at his mouth as he tried to explain.
“I know how this looks, and I’ll admit that yes, I was eating your hair. But, you have to understand, your hair is what I look forward to. I don’t eat just anyone's hair, well, I used to. Now I can’t wait to see you come in so I can eat something good. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not crazy. I’M NOT CRAZY!” he shouted, getting up as he stalked toward me.
He seemed to realize that saying that made him sound crazy, so he switched gears.
“Haven’t I always done good work for you? There's nowhere in this town that you would get a haircut for less than twenty-five dollars. I cut your hair for tips. I’ve cut your hair for the dollars in your pocket. I’ve been good to you, and you’ve been a good customer. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay? Let’s just go back to,” but I didn’t hear the rest.
I snatched up my sunglasses and was out the door before he could say another word.
I spent a while thinking about that, and the more I processed it, the worse it seemed to get. It began to haunt my dreams, seeing him bent over and eating the hair straight off the floor, looking back at me and grinning with my hair in his teeth, and I would wake up in a cold sweat. I know, it's not a particularly scary thing, but it freaked the hell out of me. I don’t really like it when people put hair in their mouths. I had a girl in elementary school who used to chew her pigtails and it bred a lifetime phobia in me. Just the thought of wet hair in someone's mouth makes me want to puke, and I can’t even touch someone's hair without cringing if they have a wig.
A weird collection of phobias, but they’re mine.
It only took a couple of weeks before I started seeing new growth. My hair just grows too fast, and after three weeks my boss commented that I was looking shabby. He handed me a twenty out of his own wallet and told me to get a trim over lunch. I took it and started looking for somewhere to get a trim. The city had quite a few shops, but it seemed like whenever I was in one, I caught someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. It was never anything I could prove, just a feeling, and when I looked up, I could almost catch a glimpse of Mr. Faskell. He was gone when I looked, but it made me extremely paranoid.
I became aware of more than a glimpse as the weeks went on. When I rode the bus to work, I caught the familiar deep inhale of someone smelling my hair. When I was standing in a lunch line, I felt my hair move as someone inhaled. When I was at Walmart buying groceries, someone actually touched my hair, but they were gone when I turned around. It led me to become something of a recluse, and I only left the house to go to work.
Over time, my hair grew out and I decided I would have to get another cut.
I went to bed, setting my alarm so I could get up early enough to get to the Master Cuts down on Bonnie. It was Saturday, I had the day off, and I had chores to do before I got to the business of relaxing. As I slipped off to sleep, I fell into a familiar dream, a dream that had plagued me for weeks. I was sitting in the barber chair at Mr. Faskell’s, the cape falling around me like a spider web, and the old man asking me if it was too tight. I didn’t say anything, I was too scared to speak, and as the scissors began to clip, I trembled in fear. I didn’t dare look back at the old man. I just knew his real face would be replaced by a monstrous visage and I would wake up panting and looking around for nothing at all.
When the alarm went off, I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and start the shower.
My bare shoulder itched, and when I went to wipe it off, I noticed there was hair clinging to my sweaty hand.
Not a lot, just leavings.
Like the leavings you find after a haircut.
I ran to the bathroom and found that my hair was cut just the way I liked it. The sides were high and tight, the top was manageable but still thick, and my bangs were perfect. Everything was just as it usually was, and I felt a cold chill run through me that had nothing to do with air conditioning.
I called the landlord, had the locks changed, and reported to the police that someone had broken into my house and cut my hair.
The police didn’t really take it seriously. They made jokes about a “Midnight Barber” and asked if I’d left a tip under my pillow. I told them about Mr. Faskell, but when I gave them the address, they just shook their heads and walked away. They thought I was joking with them, they didn’t believe a word of what I’d told them, and as I ran the shower, I remember sitting under the water for a very long time and just letting it run over me.
The bits of hair flowing down the drain felt like a betrayal.
Two weeks later, I woke up with another fresh haircut.
I called the police but they rolled their eyes and told me to calm down. I told them it was hard for me to calm down when someone was breaking into my house and cutting my hair. I demanded they go check on Mr. Faskell, and told them right where his shop was, but they looked less amused this time at the suggestion. I asked if they had been to talk to him yet, and told them he had been there for three years, but they just told me it hadn’t been funny the first time and it wasn’t funny now.
“Why would it be funny?” I asked, having to stop myself from grabbing one of them.
“Because Faskells has never been open. It was a prop for the city's revitalization project, like Coolie Flowers across the street from it or Green Butcher beside it. It’s set dressing, it’s never open. Mr. Faskell was a guy who owned a barber shop in the twenties. He’s dead, there is no Faskell who cuts hair.”
They left, and that left me very rattled.
Mr. Faskell isn’t a ghost, I know that. I have friends who go to him. I have felt him touch me. He’s flesh and blood, just like I am, I’m sure of it! The fact that he eats hair is incidental. The man is real. But if he isn’t Mr. Faskell, then who is he? How does he keep breaking into my house? I have a window in my room, but it's barred with a piece of broom handle and I live on the third floor!
I changed the locks again, I wedged a chair under my door, and when I finally made myself calm down enough to sleep, I hoped it would end.
I woke up completely bald.
Not buzzed, not at a zero guard, but bald. Like, someone shaved my head in my sleep and took the hair. They got my eyebrows too, my five o’clock shadow, and my thick sideburns. I was as smooth and hairless as a newborn baby. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the cops, they won’t believe me. I can’t call the landlord, he’s replaced the locks twice now and is getting angry about it. I can’t afford to move, I can’t leave my job, I’m stuck.
What I did find, however, was a message left on my nightstand. I’m sure the cops will say that I wrote it, but I know I didn’t. There’s hair on it and it's written in a heavy hand like a kid's scribblings. It’s done on the back of an ad for Faskell’s Hair and Beards, and the implication was pretty obvious.
“Come see me when it grows back. If you don’t, it makes no difference. I know where to find you.”

Mr. Faskell has cut my hair since I moved to the city about three years ago.
He’s an older guy, maybe fifties or sixties, and he possesses that look and drawl that makes me think he's from up North somewhere. He could be from New York, Maine, or even the Great Lakes area, but I never asked him where. He’s not a big guy, maybe a buck twenty in the rain, and he cuts my hair just the way I like it. High and tight on the sides, leave some on top so whoever I’m sleeping with has something to play with, and neaten up my sideburns. I can’t grow a real beard or he’d probably trim that for me too.
The best part is that he does it all for free!
Hard to believe, I know, but it seems there was a cost after all.
Our relationship started easily enough. I had an interview with the city, Maintenance and Custodial, and I wanted to look sharp and make a good impression. Everything other than that paid nothing or barely nothing, and I really wanted to lock this job down. I had a nice set of interview clothes, some comfortable business shoes, and a winning smile, and I needed a sharp haircut to seal the deal.
That is where the problem lies.
My hair grows abnormally fast. It always has, and when I was a kid my Dad used to bemoan the fact. He made jokes about going to barber school or buying stock in Master Cuts, but he always understood that when it was time for a cut, it was TIME for a CUT. If you let it go longer than two weeks without a cut, it just turns into a shapeless mass. By the end of week three, I looked like a sheepdog and Dad would look over his paper and sigh before saying he would take me to the barber.
Faskel’s Hair and Beards was about a block from my house, and when I stuck my head in to see their prices, Mr. Faskell looked up and smiled at me over the pile of hair he was sweeping up.
Then, suddenly, he took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again I asked if everything was okay.
“Just fine, young man. Say, you look like a man in need of a haircut, am I right?”
I told him he sure was and he invited me in and told me to have a seat.
He had about a million questions on that first visit. No, I didn’t usually let it get this long. I liked it this way but a little long on top. No, I didn’t use any special shampoo, just dandruff shampoo from the Dollar General. No, I wasn’t really prone to dry scalp, but a fella can never be too careful. On and on and on and on until, finally, it was done. He had cut it just right, the perfect length, the perfect fade, everything. I asked him what I owed him, and he told me it was free.
“Come on,” I’d said, “You gotta charge me something.”
“I let my customers pay what they can afford,” he said, “So whatever you can afford is fine with me. Think of it as a tip.”
I was okay with that and walked out with a free haircut while Mr. Faskell waved me out with a ten-dollar tip.
I left with a spring in my step. I felt like a new man, and I was ready for that job interview. I went home, got a shower, and when I looked in the mirror, I knew I had this.
The next time I went to see Mr. Faskell, I left him a twenty-dollar tip and told him it was all thanks to him that I had gotten my awesome new job.
For the next couple of years, I always went to Mr. Faskell when I needed a cut. If I had a date coming up, I went to Faskells. Promotion interview at work? Faskells. I told friends about his shop. I went there just to get a touch-up and talk with the old fella. In no time at all, Mr, Faskell and I were friends. He liked the same sports team I did, watched a lot of the same movies and TV shows I did, and even liked a lot of the same classic rock that I did.
It was great, and I always looked forward to my bimonthly haircut.
Then, about two months ago, it all changed.
I had come in to get my bimonthly cut, telling Mr. Faskell about the previous week as he cut and styled my hair. He was always meticulous, getting everything just right as he cut and trimmed, and when he turned me around to look into the mirror, it was the same way I had gotten it for the last three years. I thanked him, handed him ten bucks, and told him I’d see him soon.
“Of course,” Mr. Faskell said, sweeping up the hair, “Come back anytime.”
I was leaving, almost a block up the street, when I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses. They were my brand new Oakleys and they had cost quite a bit of cash. I remembered having them when I came up, taking them off my head, and setting them down at the station Mr. Faskell used. No problem, I thought, I’ll just go back and get them.
I stepped in, saying I had forgotten my sunglasses and was just gonna grab them, and that's when I saw him.
Mr. Faskell was looking up guiltily, his eyes panicked.
He was down on all fours, eating the hair he had swept up off the ground like he was a cow in the field. When he turned, I could see pieces of hair sticking to his lip like accusations. He stood up, whipping himself off, brushing at his mouth as he tried to explain.
“I know how this looks, and I’ll admit that yes, I was eating your hair. But, you have to understand, your hair is what I look forward to. I don’t eat just anyone's hair, well, I used to. Now I can’t wait to see you come in so I can eat something good. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not crazy. I’M NOT CRAZY!” he shouted, getting up as he stalked toward me.
He seemed to realize that saying that made him sound crazy, so he switched gears.
“Haven’t I always done good work for you? There's nowhere in this town that you would get a haircut for less than twenty-five dollars. I cut your hair for tips. I’ve cut your hair for the dollars in your pocket. I’ve been good to you, and you’ve been a good customer. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay? Let’s just go back to,” but I didn’t hear the rest.
I snatched up my sunglasses and was out the door before he could say another word.
I spent a while thinking about that, and the more I processed it, the worse it seemed to get. It began to haunt my dreams, seeing him bent over and eating the hair straight off the floor, looking back at me and grinning with my hair in his teeth, and I would wake up in a cold sweat. I know, it's not a particularly scary thing, but it freaked the hell out of me. I don’t really like it when people put hair in their mouths. I had a girl in elementary school who used to chew her pigtails and it bred a lifetime phobia in me. Just the thought of wet hair in someone's mouth makes me want to puke, and I can’t even touch someone's hair without cringing if they have a wig.
A weird collection of phobias, but they’re mine.
It only took a couple of weeks before I started seeing new growth. My hair just grows too fast, and after three weeks my boss commented that I was looking shabby. He handed me a twenty out of his own wallet and told me to get a trim over lunch. I took it and started looking for somewhere to get a trim. The city had quite a few shops, but it seemed like whenever I was in one, I caught someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. It was never anything I could prove, just a feeling, and when I looked up, I could almost catch a glimpse of Mr. Faskell. He was gone when I looked, but it made me extremely paranoid.
I became aware of more than a glimpse as the weeks went on. When I rode the bus to work, I caught the familiar deep inhale of someone smelling my hair. When I was standing in a lunch line, I felt my hair move as someone inhaled. When I was at Walmart buying groceries, someone actually touched my hair, but they were gone when I turned around. It led me to become something of a recluse, and I only left the house to go to work.
Over time, my hair grew out and I decided I would have to get another cut.
I went to bed, setting my alarm so I could get up early enough to get to the Master Cuts down on Bonnie. It was Saturday, I had the day off, and I had chores to do before I got to the business of relaxing. As I slipped off to sleep, I fell into a familiar dream, a dream that had plagued me for weeks. I was sitting in the barber chair at Mr. Faskell’s, the cape falling around me like a spider web, and the old man asking me if it was too tight. I didn’t say anything, I was too scared to speak, and as the scissors began to clip, I trembled in fear. I didn’t dare look back at the old man. I just knew his real face would be replaced by a monstrous visage and I would wake up panting and looking around for nothing at all.
When the alarm went off, I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and start the shower.
My bare shoulder itched, and when I went to wipe it off, I noticed there was hair clinging to my sweaty hand.
Not a lot, just leavings.
Like the leavings you find after a haircut.
I ran to the bathroom and found that my hair was cut just the way I liked it. The sides were high and tight, the top was manageable but still thick, and my bangs were perfect. Everything was just as it usually was, and I felt a cold chill run through me that had nothing to do with air conditioning.
I called the landlord, had the locks changed, and reported to the police that someone had broken into my house and cut my hair.
The police didn’t really take it seriously. They made jokes about a “Midnight Barber” and asked if I’d left a tip under my pillow. I told them about Mr. Faskell, but when I gave them the address, they just shook their heads and walked away. They thought I was joking with them, they didn’t believe a word of what I’d told them, and as I ran the shower, I remember sitting under the water for a very long time and just letting it run over me.
The bits of hair flowing down the drain felt like a betrayal.
Two weeks later, I woke up with another fresh haircut.
I called the police but they rolled their eyes and told me to calm down. I told them it was hard for me to calm down when someone was breaking into my house and cutting my hair. I demanded they go check on Mr. Faskell, and told them right where his shop was, but they looked less amused this time at the suggestion. I asked if they had been to talk to him yet, and told them he had been there for three years, but they just told me it hadn’t been funny the first time and it wasn’t funny now.
“Why would it be funny?” I asked, having to stop myself from grabbing one of them.
“Because Faskells has never been open. It was a prop for the city's revitalization project, like Coolie Flowers across the street from it or Green Butcher beside it. It’s set dressing, it’s never open. Mr. Faskell was a guy who owned a barber shop in the twenties. He’s dead, there is no Faskell who cuts hair.”
They left, and that left me very rattled.
Mr. Faskell isn’t a ghost, I know that. I have friends who go to him. I have felt him touch me. He’s flesh and blood, just like I am, I’m sure of it! The fact that he eats hair is incidental. The man is real. But if he isn’t Mr. Faskell, then who is he? How does he keep breaking into my house? I have a window in my room, but it's barred with a piece of broom handle and I live on the third floor!
I changed the locks again, I wedged a chair under my door, and when I finally made myself calm down enough to sleep, I hoped it would end.
I woke up completely bald.
Not buzzed, not at a zero guard, but bald. Like, someone shaved my head in my sleep and took the hair. They got my eyebrows too, my five o’clock shadow, and my thick sideburns. I was as smooth and hairless as a newborn baby. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the cops, they won’t believe me. I can’t call the landlord, he’s replaced the locks twice now and is getting angry about it. I can’t afford to move, I can’t leave my job, I’m stuck.
What I did find, however, was a message left on my nightstand. I’m sure the cops will say that I wrote it, but I know I didn’t. There’s hair on it and it's written in a heavy hand like a kid's scribblings. It’s done on the back of an ad for Faskell’s Hair and Beards, and the implication was pretty obvious.
“Come see me when it grows back. If you don’t, it makes no difference. I know where to find you.”