Short Scary Stories Mini Volume 8: Screwed Over Edition

==13 Seconds 'Till Hell==
It was a stormy Friday the 13th night. So much rain poured from the sky as I went 80 mph on a 50 mph road. I took a swing of my 40 in my right hand as I drove. I was super drunk. I didn't even mean for this to happen. I blame this cursed day on my drunkenness and the weather conditions. I kept chugging and chugging on the bottle, all while I could hardly see a thing as rain pounded the windshield. To make matters worse, my vision was getting blurrier and I felt dizzy. Suddenly, bright headlights appeared in front me and got closer and closer. I know it's God ready to take me.
CREEEESH!
I blacked out for a few minutes. I regained consciousness in a confused, drunken state. It felt like I was upside down... Because I was! My vehicle was flipped over on its head. I slumped my back on the roof of the car and crawled out through the broken glass. I peered my head up and saw an old looking car with its front completely smashed in. A huge, bright fire emitted from the hood as well. "Oh no... What have I done?!" I questioned myself. A rush of dizziness hit me as I got up, causing me to vomit on the grass. I then approached the car I had crashed into. Strangely, I didn't see anyone inside. How could that be? I began to ponder, until a cold chill touched my right shoulder.
I spun around and saw a tall, dark figure in a black cloak with large wings. Its hands were all bone, but I could not see its face. "You are a pathetic, man, Dravis." the ghostly figure spoke coldly. "Who are you?!" I asked frightened. "The 13th Angel from Hell." it said, sending a chill down my spine. "Every Friday the 13th I give a poor soul the chance to live or come with me in Hell." it further explained. I stood there in shock, my mouth agape. I wanted to speak, but my mind was blank. "It's either your life... Or her's." the figure said, pointing at a woman on the ground in the ditch covered in blood. Shaking in my boots, all I could say was "I-I'm such a fool!" "Enough. One of you is going to live, the other is going to die and burn in Hell. You have 13 seconds. Choose wisely, mortal." the figure demanded.
I looked at the badly injured woman laying on the side of the road. She was still breathing, but was soaked in blood. I'm the reason she got like that. I can't live with myself anymore. "Time is up." the figure said. "I... I..." I stammered before pausing. "H-her! Take her to Hell! She's gonna die anyway!" I blurted out. "Very well. You will continue living as a mortal. But your fate will be stoked in the flames of Hell." the figure said before vanishing in front of my eyes. I rushed over to the woman and saw she stopped breathing. Her soul's been taken to Hell. I'm just glad I'm still alive, so I have a chance to improve my life. HONK! HOOOONK! I quickly jolted my head up and saw a large truck heading straight for me. I closed my eyes as I felt my skull crush against the truck and my soul exit my body.
13 seconds later, I could hear the sounds of a billion souls screaming. "Welcome to Hell, Dravis."
==Turkey Raiser==
I just pulled up to the dollar store and was shocked to find the door was locked. The internet lied to me, it said they were open till 5 PM yet it was 3 PM. It's Thanksgiving. I badly need a turkey or else this family holiday is ruined! As I heading back towards my car, a frail voice of an elderly woman called out my name. My nerves sparked and I turned around. She was standing there in the parking lot in a black robe and was holding a basket. Before I could ask how she knew my name, she spoke.
"I've got a gift for you. Come closer." she demanded. She reached out the basket, signaling me to grab it. "Uh... What's inside?" I questioned. "Happy Thanksgiving." she said with a wrinkly smile. A large gust of win then suddenly blew, followed by a loud pop sound behind me. I spun around, then back towards the old lady. She was no longer there... but her basket was on the ground. I stood there for a minute contemplating what just happened. I peaked inside a the basket and saw a beautiful pre-coooked turkey... just what I needed.
Since I worked for poison control, I took the turkey home and did various tests on it. All the tests came back negative for anything deadly. That was by far the strangest moment of my life, but I'm not gonna let it enjoy my Thanksgiving. I got out the turkey and slid it in the oven. Just when I was about to relax, my nerves shot to hell again. "Help... me..." I heard a voice call from the oven. Shocked, I quickly opened the oven and saw the cooked turkey squirming around in the pan. "Please... You've got to help me!" the roasting cried out. Nope, nope, nope. I took the turkey pan out the oven and dropped it on the floor. I was shaking like crazy. The turkey had grown a neck and burnt turkey-like face, along with stubs for arms.
"What the hell do you want?!" I exclaimed in distraught. "P-please! H-hurry! I... It's... EURGH!" the turkey groaned in pain. Suddenly, two very long bones with joints in the middle sprouted out from its stubs, and it nubs for hands placed on the floor. It's cooked body was shaking rapidly, its neck grew longer, its face forming into a more human like appearance. It literally looked like a cooked turkey trying morph into an adult human. I was frozen the whole time, but suddenly a burst of rage entered my body, and I tossed the turkey pan back in the oven, burning the turkey-human hybrid alive. My mouth was dry. I was sweating like crazy. I felt sick. I then collapsed to the floor.
Hours later I woke up at the dinner table. My family had prop'd me up on a chair in the dining room hoping I'd wake up. They figured I passed out from the heat in the kitchen, and they laughed at the bizarre turkey I had in the oven. "What? No... Please don't tell me you served it!" I cried to my aunt. She giggled then lifted pan cover up, revealing the badly burnt corpse of the human-turkey hybrid. Right before anyone could dig into its flesh, its arms and neck flailed up and it yelled "Please help me!!"
==Snob Strike==
I work at a homeless shelter and the conditions are pretty bad. Most of the food is expired, all the furniture is used, and there's rats and roaches everywhere. And today our guys picked up a mattress off the side of the road with a note attached, saying "unspeakable things" have been performed on it. It's a living hell being in this place.
My boss barged in the storage room where I was, sorting cans of expired beans. "Will you get that damn mattress out of here already?" Mr. Snobs demanded. He's very overweight, has a thick neck, and wears round glasses. "Sorry sir, no one's told me where to put it yet." I responded. "Well figure it out. Gosh, I'm already having a bad day and the last thing I want to do is deal with this filthy, blood-stained mattress." Snobs vented. He's having relationship troubles with his wife, which is none of my business. But he's always unhappy, complaining, and works in one of the most depressing, unkempt places you could imagine.
"Did you see the note?" I asked, holding it. "Screw the damn notw, I wipe my ass with it. I haven't done unspeakable things on a mattress with my wife in a long time. Damn her to hell!" Snobs vented some more. I'm afraid he's going to snap one of these days, and it won't be pretty. I continued sorting expired food and then cleaned out the waste buckets (we're too cheap to afford toilets and good plumbing). By then, it was ready for me to clock out. 9 PM on a wet, soggy winter day. I couldn't ask for a miserable time. Not only that, I heard a group of eight or so homeless men talk about "going on strike", whatever that means.
I went in storage to grab my keys. But I stopped to listen to to Snobs in his office yelling at his soon to be ex-wife over the phone. I just heard it. She's asking for a divorce. He barged out of the office, flailing his other arm in the air like a mad man. His face was hot red and drenched in sweat. I slowly backed away when I noticed his flailing arm was equipped with a small hand gun. "Go to Hell!" his wife yelled from the phone. "FINE! I WILL!" Mr. Snobs screamed before sitting on the mattress and plopping the gun in his mouth and blowing his brains out. A mixture of blood and brain matter splattered on my face. In shock, I tried running out the door, but the homeless were blocking it from the outside. "We're hungry! We demand better!" they protested. Oh no, it must be the strike!
I hid behind a shelf as the homeless men broke down the door and began to attack Snob's fresh corpse. One of them ripped off his finger and set it on fire with a lighter and smoked it. I watched in horror as they began tearing chunks out of his brain out and throwing them at the wall like mud. "Stop this!!" I cried. "I watched my friend die of an overdose today, you don't care about us!" one of them yelled at me. They then began to stomp on Snob's face until it was nothing but mush. There was even a man eating pieces of the brain. The men then grabbed the gun and passed it around, taking turns killing themselves until no one was left. I'll never be the same after this, so I picked up the gun and did the same thing.
Respect the homeless.
==Grandma's Onions==
I was in bed trying to sleep but the smell of the rancid odor emitting from the onions was too much. I'm staying at my grandma's for the week out in this strange rural village that feels like its right out of the stone age. She swears up and down there are vampires that lurk at night, so in order to keep them away she scatters freshly cut onions throughout the house every night. She's so paranoid over it she installed padded locks on all the doors in the house. Including mine, which means I have to wait for her to unlock it in the morning. The paranoid elderly are something else, let me tell you...
I wiped the onion tears from my eyes and turned over. I tried closing my eyes, but something else prevented me from falling asleep. I heard taps at the window. I turned back around and saw a black, shadowy figure peering inside. I gasped and quickly turned on my side. That's either a creeping villager or a vampire. I'm thinking the former, but I'm still horrified. I turned back to face the window. It was still there. Looks like the onions aren't working as intended. Thanks, Grandma. I launched out of bed and pounded on my door. "Grandma! Let me out! Hurry!" I begged and pleaded, but the old hag couldn't hear me. Honestly the sent of the onion makes me want to leave the room more than the creepy figure peaking in.
After a minute of crying for help, I gave up. That dammed figure was still peering in. What if the onion doesn't keep it away? What if it wants the onion? My grandma is never wise, so this has to be the case. I picked up the odor veggie, clutching it in my bare palms. "You want it? Have it!" I exclaimed before throwing the onion through the window like I was pitching a baseball. The window shattered and the cool night breeze filled the room. The smell of the onion was significantly less stronger, however, the figure was still there... now free to enter!
I screamed and pounded on my door some more, but still no luck! I turned back around and saw the figure was slowly fading away, as was the odor. When the scent dissipated entirely, the figure did as well. Wait... Was the smell of onion causing these shadowy figures to spawn this whole time? I stood there for a few seconds, baffled, but smiled, because I had my answer. Also that was a windy tree branch tapping my window, not a vampire. These poor onions have been terrorizing my grandmother for far too long. It's time I get rid of them!
After exiting via the broken window and getting in the house a different way, I grabbed all the dreadful onions and tossed them in the garbage. The last ones left are in granny's room. I tried the door knob, and surprising it was unlocked. I picked up all the onions while using the moonlight as a light source. That's when grandma unexpectedly rose out of bed and gasped. I stood there frozen, caught in the act. "You let them in!" she ominously exclaimed. "Who?!" I questioned in fear. That's when I heard a very strange moaning sound from behind. Ghostly figures with glowing white eyes grabbed me and my grandmother and dragged us into the darkness, never for us to see light again.
Grandma is always right.
==How My Christmas Got Canceled==
After shoveling out some snow in the driveway, I came back inside only to find Cooking With Christmas was still on the TV. I shook my head in anger as I undid my scarf. I've always hated that show. It airs once a year around Christmas-time and the host, 'Christmas Christine', shows the viewer how to cook "delicious" Christmas-inspired treats. They all look unappetizing and disgusting, and signifies every problem I have with the modern world. I wish they would just cancel this stupid show already! 
"We're getting ready to take Holiday calls, so if you want to call-in, do it now!" Christmas Christine said on the television. I grabbed my phone and instantly dialed the number on screen. I was expecting my call not to go through, but then it happened. "Hello, caller! You're live on air!" Christmas said. "Hi Christine, I just wanted to call-in and say your show sucks and needs to be canceled. I'm sick of seeing it every darn Christmas!" I spoke with visible anger in my voice. Christmas Christine began laughing hysterically. I hate this woman! "I take it you've been a naughty boy this year?" Christmas said, patronizing me. "I hate you and your stupid stupid voice and fake gold hair. After I get done with this call I'm gonna start a petition to get your bastardization of food off the air! You're canceled!" I said angrily. "No, you're canceled." she said before hanging up. 
I clutched the phone in my hands and threw it against the wall. I might just pull an Elvis and shoot the dang TV - I don't care anymore! Before I could grab my gun, I froze in place staring at the TV. There was a phone number displayed on screen that seemed horribly familiar. It... it was my phone number! The next text that appeared on screen was my home address. Cooking With Christmas is trying to cancel me! I quickly opened up a popular online bulletin board and saw dozens of people posting my information, followed by a brigade of reaction emojis. Her insane fans are gonna ruin my life!
I spent the next few hours rigging my home up with traps, Home Alone style. I then strapped on my grandfather's helmet from the Vietnam war and had my shotgun locked and loaded. I'm not gonna let Cooking With Christmas fans ruin my Christmas! I then heard pounding at the door. The mob... they're here! I opened the door, ready to blast the zealots to bits. But at the door was someone who did blast zealots to bits "What you did on Cooking With Christmas was disgraceful. I want my helmet back!" my wartime veteran grandfather demanded. "Grandpa, not you too!" I cried in horror. "You're trying to cancel a Christmas tradition. Santa is pissed." my grandfather, who is friends with Santa, said.
A police officer then stopped by and put me on house arrest, followed by my landlord revoking my home ownership. So according to law, I don't own the property anymore, but I can't leave it until my house arrest is over. This means Cooking With Christmas fans can raid my house and do whatever to it and I can't escape it. The next day, I woke up to my not-home in ruins, with Christmas Christine outside in front of it recording a new episode of Cooking with Christmas. They thought I tried to cancel Christmas... But they canceled my Christmas instead.
Don't mess with Christmas... Christine.
Category:Friday the 13th
Category:Hell
Category:Vehicles
Category:Thanksgiving
Category:Mutant Creatures
Category:Creepy Elders
Category:Suicide
Category:Food
Category:Paranormal
Category:Christmas