The Tale of the Cabin in the Woods

[Brill Weave]

Ah my friends. Seems it t'was only yesterday I recanted the tale of the Fall of the House of Al. But alas, upon gazing at my phone I realized that some time has past. You see my friends, with the snow swirling, the cold wind blowing, by good fortune, I found myself plunged into a world of magic and wonder. So my comrades, be comfortable, as I begin the retelling of the story of the cabin in the woods. A fair warning to you, gentle reader, this story has a much more dark and sinister feeling to it, and I shall spare no details, for good or ill.

Loyal comrades, it began on a cold January evening. I had just settled in and had begun my evening's respite in preparations for the long trek the next day. You see my friends, my beloved wife, had made the decision for us, and our dearest companions, to rent a rustic cabin in lovely Cook Forest. Naturally, my friends, trepidation filled my every thought. Surely this was some cruel jest. Only a madman would consider making the trip into a snow covered forest in the middle of January.

But it was not so. Perhaps it was some strange entity that had momentarily taken hold of my wife, that had caused her to make this decision. Naturally I expressed my concerns to my beloved wife. But, to know one's surprise my concerns fell upon deaf ears, as the arrangements had already been made.

You see my friends, not only did I have to attend, but I was also to drive two of our friends up with me as we could not be relieved of our duties at work early enough to depart with the first caravan. So as the day grew short, I departed and headed for home, to wait for Dan and Danielle to arrive.

Now gentle reader I must tell you that I am no nobleman. My tastes are simple. I drive a 2007 Chevrolet HHR. While no extravagant vehicle, it suits my needs and I enjoy driving it. While larger than a car, the storage capacity is arguably the same. So imagine my surprise as I am loading my noble chariot with Rock Band, when I see Dan walking up with two large suitcases. Amused, we discussed ways to accomodate these behemoths, to no avail. The suitcases left behind, their contents smashed under the back seat, we began our long, dangerous two hour trek to the dark cold forest.

I tell you my friends, it was if the world itself had aligned itself against us. My wife and my best of friends Brian and his wife, had all departed early in the morn to discover the wonders of the cabin and begin preparations for the feast we would be partaking in upon our arrival.

The sky grew dark as I began to have my doubts, my beloved wife had not called me yet. Had they made it alright? Would I arrive at the cabin to find their bent twisted bodies ravaged by some rustic madman? Nothing so serious children, you see the phone within the cabin could not make outgoing calls.

Now I am not one prone to undue excitement or panic, but as we entered the forest it was as if the night itself enveloped us. The canopy of trees blocked out what little light remained in the night sky as we sped along the lonely snow covered roads. But how far have we come? Should not the cabin be just up ahead? Doubt, like a small seed had been planted within us as we made that fateful turn into the Mason Jar's parking lot.

I tell you true my readers, as Dan and I entered that small hole in the wall, a wave on panic struck me. It was if they shared a hive mind, the locals turned and looked at us as one. No words were spoken, I felt Dan grasping the back of my jacket as the same panic filled Dan. Steely resolve came to me as I boldly spoke out loud, asking the location of River Road. No answer. Now I am by no means a fop. I know when I am being insulted. The panic was quickly replaced with irritation as I walked up to the closest local.

Lo and behold, this man, this country bumpkin, held in his small grubby hands, a Kirin Beer. Surely this man could recognize a kindred spirit? Sure enough, when spoken to, this man shunned his companions and lit the way for us.

Our spirits buoyed by this man, we turned around and went back the way we came. Sure enough in our confusion, we had managed to go past our turn. Our path led us even deeper into the forest, the sporadic headlights of the passing cars had been replaced by the blackness of the forest. No cars this way came. As the miles racked up, we had still not come across the cabin. The car was silent. No one spoke as the trees rolled past. My thoughts turning to the plethora of horror movies I had taken in in my reckless youth. I knew the rules. I didn't drink, I didn't skinny dip or do drugs, and I had partaken in no sexual escapades. I was safe. Further we drove, as our chances of being raped and murdered grew the further we went.

As my mind wandered, we saw a small light in the distance. Slowing down as we approached, I noticed my beloved wife's Honda up the driveway. We had found it. Hidden by the trees, this cabin was monolithic in proportion. Gentle readers, this cabin was beautiful. In every sense of the word.

Happily we unpacked the car, smelling the turkey that Cassie had spent all day preparing. As we all sat down to the cornucopia of food placed before us, I grew concerned as I prepared the turkey. Was meat supposed to be pink? Perhaps this was some new way of preparing turkey I was not aware. After Cassie's assurances, we sat down and ate, the night passing without event.

Upon waking up in the morning, I found my beloved wife gone. But a wonderful aroma wafted through the scenic cabin as I drudgingly got out of bed and walked into the main foyer. My beloved wife had made everyone breakfast. As we sat contentedly munching our breakfast, Brian expressed his interest in going sledding.

Being the adventurous sort I readily agreed as we near ran out of the house with our Spartan shield sleds. Surely this was not safe, I thought, the path we would be sledding upon led down between the trees with our trajectory leading us perilously close to the road. But in the spirit of good fun, I dismissed these large warnings to the pain that would befall me soon enough.

As we flew down the hill, we gathered an immense amount of speed, the snow had been covered over with a thin layer of ice. Before we had even cleared the treeline, we had both gained enough speed to cause concern. Upon hitting the driveway, we both rolled off the shields and collected ourselves to the best of our abilities and prepared to go again.

This was folly in the purest form.

I watched as Brian sped through the trees and down into the driveway before coming to rest in a snowdrift several feet from the road. Timidly I sat upon my shield and let go. But something was awry. True fear struck me my friends. My path, my horrible path was leading straight for the trees.

The emotions that ran through me were mixed. My friends, as I sped closer and closer to the trees, I realized I could kick off of it as I approached, thus saving me the monumental pain and possible injury of colliding with a tree. My confidence brimming over, I lifted my left leg in the preparation of the jarring impact that would occur. But it was not meant to be.

My shield sled had gone rogue.

A split second. A half a breath. A heartbeat. That is all it took for my shield to spin me slightly to my left. Mind numbing pain struck me as the outside of my right thigh collided full force with the tree. Laughter erupted from my companions as I heard my beloved wife yelling, her feet crunching in the snow as she rushed over to me. Still I lay, a shattered man.

Gentle readers, I believed in my heart of hearts that my leg had been shattered. My thoughts immiediately turned to what kind of hospital I would find in this rustic area as I lay writhing in the snow, unable to stand. The minutes that passed felt like hours as I slowly began to get feeling back. Attempting to stand I nearly collapsed again as Brian steadied my gait long enough to return me to this rustic house of death in the woods.

Laying in bed, I checked my leg, a foot long scratch was all that adorned my thigh. Saturday night was spent with me, unmoving and alone in this small bedroom.

My prison.

I could hear the merriment in the next room as Ramsey belted out Painkiller. The rhythmic tapping of the drums gentle lulling me to sleep. I barely woke when my beloved wife crawled into bed, the hot stink of liquour on her breath. I slumbered peacefully until the morning.

And that the weekend took a turn for the worse.

I shall not spare you the graphic details my flock. For, as your storyteller, it is my duty to repeat these events as they occured.

A sudden urge struck me as I hobbled quickly into the bathroom. A blast of fetid liquid waste unleashed, the bathroom would never be the same. I stumbled out of the comode, weak from exertion and gazed upon the clock, it was only six in the morning. My friends I tried to sleep, but every few minutes I would be ill again.

Cassie in her infinite wisdom, decided it was because I had injured my leg, completely ignoring the fact that Danielle was now struck down as I was. The hours seemed like days. Brian and Cassie kindly offered to drive my car back home since I could barely stand. Chills racking my every breath I waited for another six hours before we actually departed.

A sad sight I was my friends. So stricken with chills, my beloved wife covered me with layers of blankets. Supported by Brian, I was gently put into the car, the blankets filling the entire back seat, we began the long drive home.

I am not one prone to exaggeration. So know the truth of this when I say it, this two hour trip was the longest of my life. I had not eaten anything in nearly twelve hours, the mere thought of food causing me to retch. Even liquids brought no relief as I would immiediately expel them in one way or another. My water gone, I asked brian to stop at the next town.

A few minutes later I felt the car come to a stop. The now familiar sudden urge washed over me as I needed to find the closest bathroom. And there it was. Greeting me. The rotten stench washing over me as I staggered under the assault upon my faculties. There in all it's hideous glory, was Burger King.

Nearly falling as I rose from the car, Brian again supported me as I entered the "restaurant." Shaking from the cold, my blankets discarded, I entered the frigid bathroom, but not before I asked Cassie to get me another water in the futile attempt to stay hydrated.

Stumbling back into the car, we continued on our journey. I asked for my water as I felt that I could no longer continue without something to drink. Upon my first sip I nearly gagged. This was no water. Had I been duped yet again? Nay my friends. Cassie, in her wisdom, felt that I needed something other than water and ordered me a sweet raspberry tea.

As we drove a horrid stench washed over me. Had I soiled myself unwittingly? Again gentle reader, the answer is no. Cassie decided that with a sick companion, one who couldn't stomach the sight of food, let alone the taste, I would be fine as she ate a whopper in the front seat.

My window completely down now to wash the scent away, we drove closer and closer to home. Familiar exit numbers happily showed me the way as I realized we approached home. One more stop remained. And for this I am truly sorry. As we pulled into the BP, I knew that this place would never again be the same. Falling out of the car, Brian helped me up as I entered the bathroom.

Confusion struck me. I couldn't decide which I could hold more. As I choked back the vomit, I handled my business as best I could. As I flushed I attempted to kneel down for another round. But my friends, my leg would not cooperate. Though I could limp on it and stand, I could not bend it.

My loyal comrades, I kid you not when I say there is nothing so horrid as being ill without being able to kneel. I tried my friends. I tried. But it is simple math. With the arc and the trajectory and the dispersion over space, I simply could not get it all in the toilet. I cared not, the raspberry tea would wait no longer.

I lost track of time as I retched. Remnants splashing upon the walls and the floor as I did my best to stop the flow. But the spice must flow. I stumbled out, ashen face and weak, the clerk looking at me with disgust. I spared him not even an apology. I was too close to home to care.

Finally, after an eternity, we pulled into the house. My own personal crying game had ended. I was home. Laying in bed for another few hours, my beloved wife finally arrived home after dropping off our remaining friends. As I lay whimpering, my beloved wife grew more and more concerned. I was unable to keep any liquids down, I could not eat, even Pedialyte offered me no respite.

Finally her concern grew to levels where she feared for my health. Getting dressed we departed for the emergency room. But this was no normal hospital. This hospital was where my father had passed away. How fitting that his son would soon follow.

Upon my admittance I was quickly taken into a room and immiediately put on an IV with the hopes of rehydrating me. As I lay on the gurney, my beloved wife's phone wouldn't stop it's incessant ringing. The callers you ask? Our companions from the trip.

One by one they were being struck down. Kevin, Laura, Dan, Danielle the list grew longer as the phone kept ringing. One by one they had succmbed to a most devious enemy, food poisoning.

You see my friends, as Cassie monitored the turkey, she repeatedly opened the oven door. And as anyone who cooks regularly can tell you, this is not conducive to the act of cooking. Every time yon door opens, it takes more than ten minutes to regain the heat it had lost.

Still Cassie bravely clinged to the sinking ship. Surely it was something else other than food poisoning. Surely it had not been her pink turkey that had so villainously raped her friends of their hydration.

But for me it was worse. As my fever climbed higher, so did my delirium. So far gone was I, that I actually laughed out loud while watching Dude, Where's My Car on the tv in the room. The doctor returned with grim news. Not only had your loyal storyteller been infected with food poisoning, but I had also managed to contract a rather potent strain of the flu.

My IV depleted, I was released once more into the wild. For two days I clung bravely to life, waiting, not knowing. The good news you ask? My leg was fine. In total ten brave souls entered that cabin.

Five of us will never be the same.

Always check yon turkey for pink meat.

[Takedown3]

tl;dr?

[Fhqwghads]

Ah my friends
My friends
You see my friends
Now my friends
I tell you my friends
I tell you true my friends
I shall not spare you the graphic details my friends
A sad sight I was my friends
My friends
I tried my friends.
You see my friends

Needs a better vocabulary.

[BerenTebogo]

Needs a better vocabulary.

MIRA MIS AMIGOS

[The_OG_Nelta]

in b4 in b4's

[Brill Weave]

Yeah when it's a longer story the whole friends thing gets repeated a lot. It's not that I don't notice it, it's just that I'm trying to churn it out as quick as I can since I do this at work lol.

[BerenTebogo]

Really need to stop writing these huge diatribes tbh.

Get a LJ or something.

[Brill Weave]

People ask, so I do it. If people don't ask, I would stop tbh. But let's face it, if I'm starting a topic in here not related to movies, zombies, or games, you guys can figure out it's probably going to be long and can avoid it.

[Jaybar]

Brill Weave = John Weave McCain?

[Vandalhart]

He must have contacts with McCain's speech writers

I'm always wary of pink meat of any kind.

[Mizango]

Uncle Weave rules. More stories about you being on the front lines of the Raptor war plz.

[Devolver]

People ask, so I do it.

And indeed you shall, for the greater good. People come to forums and complain about having to read? Makes sense to me.

[Kael]

Uncle Weave rules. More stories about you being on the front lines of the Raptor war plz.

Obligatory CHANGE HIS NAME TO BRILL WEAVE.


And yes, more Raptor War insider scoops prz.


Also, I like reading these tales. If you don't want to read. Don't. Simple right?

[Senji]

Should I read it?

[Apelila]

TL;DR version:

Wifes well intentioned weekend turns horrible when she undercooks a turkey and gives everyone food poisoning.

....my friends.

[Brill Weave]

Close. Best friend's wife actually. Not mine. She's not dumb when it comes to cooking.

[Jaybar]

You pick the winners.

[Seraph]

My friend...



you need new friends.

[Talus]

It could have been worse - it could have been trichinella if you had eaten undercooked pork instead of turkey. Why did I read all that (or most of it)?

[Kuya]

Compatriots, comrades, pals, etc.