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Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

in case you missed story time last night (🧵 starts here: bsky.app/profile/anti...)

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

I remember thinking, “why does it smell like raw hamburger meat in here?” At which point a normal person might pause both their movie and their treadmill, but guess what

Reposted by Christ! A Skelemrgan!

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

Ok, here’s why I’ve only ever seen the first twenty minutes of Wim Wenders’ “Paris, Texas”:

waferbaby @wafer.baby · 6d

TELL THE RAT STORY

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Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

So was that the end of the treadmill? NOPE! I cleaned it up, and kept using it. Even hauled its heavy ass to Portland years later! I eventually sold it on Craigslist, after the belt ripped and I didn’t want to fix it.

But I never did finish watching Wim Wenders’ “Paris, Texas.”

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Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

And what was under there, as you’ll have guessed by now, was a rat, and its severed head.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

and eventually I convinced her to help me tip the treadmill up against the wall, in such a way that she wouldn’t have to look at whatever was under there. So, we did that.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

So it took some time to calm her down, which was kinda like soothing a skittish horse (I actually wouldn’t know, but that feels like the right comparison)

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

This was very unexpected. I’d always seen this girl as tough as nails, but it turns out that she was VERY upset about the mystery fluff and the blood on the treadmill belt.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

So I called her over, and asked her if she’d mind helping me lift the treadmill up for a minute so I could figure out where the blood was coming from, and she FREAKED OUT.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

Now, I mentioned this treadmill was HEAVY. It was. Heavy enough that I literally couldn’t lift it on my own. Fortunately, my badass friend Jessie was staying with me for a few weeks before the high camps opened in Yosemite and our summer jobs started

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

It was only when my foot slipped a little and I looked down to see ANOTHER lump of gray fluff and a smear of what looked alarmingly like blood that I did either of those things.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

I remember thinking, “why does it smell like raw hamburger meat in here?” At which point a normal person might pause both their movie and their treadmill, but guess what

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

I was pretty engrossed in the film at this point, so when I looked down and saw some gray fluffy stuff on the treadmill belt, I was like, “huh, that’s a big dust bunny” and kept jogging. Then I noticed the smell.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

So one rainy day when I was about twenty minutes into Wim Wenders’ “Paris, Texas,” I felt a little jerk and bump on the treadmill belt.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

It rains a lot in Arcata, CA, hence the treadmill (and as an artsy college kid, of course I went for the weirdest/cheapest possible treadmill). So I used to run and watch movies on rainy days.

Christ! A Skelemrgan! @antichrista.bsky.social · 5d

At the time, I liked to run (I was as yet unaware that it’s possible to rollerskate on ramps and in bowls, so running was the main exercise-y thing I did).