One time, about seven or eight years ago, my father and i went outside to smoke a cigarette and take our dogs out before retiring for the night.
We had rows of split and stacked firewood out back that ran parallel with the back wall of the house, between the house and our vegetable garden. When we went outside and walked out back, there was a green glow emanating from behind the furthest row of firewood. My dad just kinda said something to the effect of "what the hell is that?", and as he did, a green orb the size of a children's soccer ball rose up from behind the furthest row of firewood. I started to exclaim "The fuck IS THAT".
I was carrying a loaded pistol with a spare magazine any time i went outside the house back then, but when i woke up the following morning in my bed, my pistol wasn't on my nightstand. It was unloaded, with the full magazines and the previously chambered round next to it, was sitting on the kitchen table downstairs. The doors were all locked, too.
To this day telling the story raises every single hair on my body, and yet my father will not discuss the event. He'll immediately shut the conversation down, or just walk away.
So the thought that "aliens" would be thoughtful enough to return the Hills' keys isn't far-fetched in my mind.
One time, about seven or eight years ago, my father and i went outside to smoke a cigarette and take our dogs out before retiring for the night.
We had rows of split and stacked firewood out back that ran parallel with the back wall of the house, between the house and our vegetable garden. When we went outside and walked out back, there was a green glow emanating from behind the furthest row of firewood. My dad just kinda said something to the effect of "what the hell is that?", and as he did, a green orb the size of a children's soccer ball rose up from behind the furthest row of firewood. I started to exclaim "The fuck IS THAT".
I was carrying a loaded pistol with a spare magazine any time i went outside the house back then, but when i woke up the following morning in my bed, my pistol wasn't on my nightstand. It was unloaded, with the full magazines and the previously chambered round next to it, was sitting on the kitchen table downstairs. The doors were all locked, too.
To this day telling the story raises every single hair on my body, and yet my father will not discuss the event. He'll immediately shut the conversation down, or just walk away.
So the thought that "aliens" would be thoughtful enough to return the Hills' keys isn't far-fetched in my mind.
Catch and release…….that’s both horrific and funny…..
let's do a flyfishing session. #chaseentrout
they both need to stop talking over eachoter
talking to a movie legend about aliens lol love it