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The /r/hockey Trade Deadline Game - Day 2 Thread
NOTE: This is FAKE HOCKEY. To talk about actual hockey, go to the latest Daily Discussion thread Trade Deadline Tonight will continue TONIGHT! The /hockey Trade Deadline Game is back for day 2! Starting today at 8:00 AM MT trading is officially open again. Trading will run until Thursday, January 30th at 6:00 PM MT. You are not late! You can still sign up at http://www.tdgdb.com When you are traded, change your flair on hockey-related subreddits and spend the week from January 31st through February 7th cheering for your new team. Here are this year's reporters, the people who will make things up break news of trade negotiations:
I don't know where to turn anymore. I'm scared. I can barely settle my mind to write anything. God. Am I going CRAZY? Are any of the stories on here REAL? Is there someone who can HELP me? I can't find any information about anything like this on any of the paranormal sites out there. I got so fucking desperate I went to the church, for Christ's sake! Okay. Here it is. I've been living in Clifton, Colorado for about three months now...my uncle Ross just died, and I got grandpa's house that grandpa had given to dad and that my dad had given to Ross in his will. Does that make sense? I got grandpa's house from Ross. Dad had made him promise. Jesus Christ. I don't think I've done anything to DERSERVE what's happening to me! I was a simple person before all this. I'M JUST A SIMPLE GUY! Before I moved out here I had a shitty apartment in Fort Collins. I had just failed out of CSU for the second time when I got the call from Dad's old lawyer that uncle Ross died of a stroke out on grandpa's front porch. Jake, my older brother, wanted nothing to do with this place, or with Ross, or with anybody on Dad's side of the family for that matter, so Vedapo and I took care of all the paperwork ourselves. Ross never had kids. I got everything after the attorney fees and funeral costs. Pretty lucky, right? One hundred and ninety three thousand dollars... I felt lucky. But about three weeks or so after I first got here, I was driving out to town to go to Sonic or something stupid like that. And I was blindly digging for my lighter in the center console, you know, so I could keep my eyes on the road. Well, I was digging around and I found a little hard spec that I soon realized was a TOOTH! A molar. I remember being stricken suddenly with a fevered panic and licking around the inside of my mouth, checking. And then feeling relieved by the knowledge that I was holding someone else's tooth. A tooth...I didn't forget about it, but I tried to put it out of my mind. I ate my cheeseburger. Another week went by without anything out of the ordinary happening. I'm not working at the moment, so I don't do a lot. For a while the the only time I got out of the house was to go drinking with the old farmers on Fridays. They're nice enough guys, but won't come around anymore. They're scared now, too. Anyway, a week went by after I found that tooth in my car, and I was unloading the dishwasher. It's an old 80's model that doesn't really do the greatest job. Usually I have to run it twice. The dishes looked clean enough, so I stacked the plates up, and the bowls, and the cups. Then I unloaded the silverware basket, right? Well, mixed in with my corn picks, I found three little teeth. Three. Little. Teeth. I rewashed every dish in the house. I was pretty flipped out then. I took the trio of teeth and I put them in a little jar by the sink. I was kind of fuming. I smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and shook my head thinking...who the hell would do something like this? That Friday, I brought the teeth over to Joe's house. He lives across the street...I've known him since before I could walk. We were drinking whiskey with the all the fellas from around the neighborhood. While we gathered around Joe's jukebox, I dropped the jar on the table and I said, "Who's the wiseguy? Who's the asshole that's been hiding teeth on my personal property?" Nobody owned up to it, and I guess, rightfully so. We ended up calling it an early night. When I woke up the next day, I found half a dozen teeth on the living room floor. I put gloves on, gathered the teeth up in the jar and drove them down to the police station on 32 Road. They said they were going to keep that handful of teeth to run tests or whatever. They said maybe they could find out where the teeth had come from, and they sent a pair of officers down to the house to check things out. They told me to keep the gate locked and to invest in a security system...which I did right away. I'll tell you now, though...these cameras have seen NOTHING. Another week went by without anything happening. I started to calm down a little. And then I was doing my laundry and I found thirty two perfectly formed human teeth mixed in with my bed sheets. I checked every camera twice, saw nothing, and then drove back out to the police station. To make a long story short, the Clifton police department thinks I'm desperate for attention. They told me they could lock me up if they found out where I was stealing the teeth. Over the next few days, I found teeth in my coffee can, in my shoes, in the tank of my toilet, in my salt shaker. I thought I was going to snap. I did. I had to get out of the house. I thought that if I disappeared, whoever was doing this would leave me alone. I decided to get a hotel out in Blackhawk, and figured I'd do some gambling, and some drinking, and some crying. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I just took off. Even then I was stressed to a level I didn't think possible. I brought my gun with me, I started carrying it everywhere. I stopped off at the first decent hotel I saw, the Reserve, I think it was. I got the key from the clerk, went out to the casino, and started drinking. About the time my face went numb, the slot machine lined up for me. I laughed out loud like a maniac. I was happy. I was a vicious kind of happy. I tipped my bottle up and swallowed the whole thing. Glug, glug, glug. And just when I sucked down the last gulp, I felt something slip out of the neck of the bottle and into my mouth. My tongue hit it and I knew right away. I spit it out, a black diseased tooth, and I left my winnings by the machine. I went out to my car and got my gun, went up to the hotel room, brushed my teeth, and brushed away the loose teeth someone left on my pillow case. I waited for two days to see if this perpetrator was going to come visit me. Forty Eight hours and Nothing happened. I didn't sleep. I didn't leave the room. I didn't eat. I refused housekeeping. All I did was call the front desk to make sure they knew I was staying a few more days. They said, Ok. I slept with my back to the door. When I woke up, it felt like everything in the room was still in it's right place. I took a shower. I shaved, and I brushed my teeth. God. My were teeth are okay for how much I smoke. They weren't crooked or anything. But when I put the pressure of the brush to them six of my front teeth slumped out of my gums and into my back of my mouth... Tell me. Am I going to die? MY FUCKING TEETH ARE FALLING OUT!!! I'm back in Clifton now. I'm thinking about pulling the rest of my teeth. I lost three more. I'm sure the rest will fall out on their own...I just... Has any experienced anything like this? Will it end if I just get rid of my teeth? Please. Anyone. Help me.
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