The night of the Benjo Wookie (a horror story) (325 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: second_entry
Rating: 1.4 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Swimmingbirdblue (View user info) at 2006-12-20 01:53:44 EST
It was a full moon that night. Normally I prefer that, as I work at night and every little bit of light out on the flight line helps. Even though the winter is setting in pretty hard here in Korea, I still prefer my night shift and wouldn't change it for the world. This, however, was not a work night. It was a Saturday night. I was off and it was a three day weekend for the whole base. As there's not much else to do on a Saturday night around here, I went out drinking. I started off the evening at the Maintenance Squadron's hooch. Gotta start there, gotta show squadron pride.
Once there, I met up with some buddies from various shops. Propulsion was there, Avionics, Armament, Ammo, and of course, my beloved crew chiefs. It was a full house for various reasons. First of all, as I previously mentioned, it was a holiday weekend. It was also a mid-month pay weekend. If you weren't up at Osan, you were spending your money in a hooch or sitting at home. Also, like I said before, it was a full moon. That brings out the best and worst in all God's creatures. Unfortunately, this story involves something not made by any divine power. The monstrosity I refer to can be only described as the Benjo Wookie.
What, you ask, is a Benjo Wookie? If you've been here, you've heard the tales. If not, listen closely children for here is a story that will curdle the very blood that beats in your little hearts.
So there I was (this is the way every good drinking story must start, and I am not one to break protocol), at the hooch. Last call had just been announced, and in honor of the holiday weekend, the closing time had been extended to 0300 hours. This meant that only the drunkest of the drunk were still at it. With a nearly full beer in hand, I rushed to the bar and asked for one more round for my boys and me. The barmaid popped open the three brews and handed them to me, suspiciously eyeing my nearly full beer that I already had.
"You sure that you fellas need another round? You just cracked into the one you've got," she said, with the tone of one who is really ready to get home for the night.
I don't rightly remember what I said, hopefully it was something witty and clever about working hard and playing hard, but I doubt somehow that it was anywhere near coherent. She ended up giving me the beers anyway, mostly to get me away from her bar.
After passing the fresh round out to my pals, we had to step out into the cold night air for a smoke. There is no smoking in any Air Force establishment, even if it's a condemned hangar converted into a bar.
As we're outside, we notice that the last of the dregs begin filing out of the bar as well. Everyone is taking cabs back to the dorms. They are cabbing it not because it's a long way back (a mile and a half, tops), but because it's about 25 degrees and the snow is coming down again. Erich, Kris, and I had spent the last of our ATM cash inside at the bar, so it looked like we'd either have to split a cab with slightly more prepared and more generous folks, or hump it back on foot, braving the cold. Since the aforementioned folks are also of the more sensible type, they had all left before the night had come to an end. This left us with no other option. We were taking the shoe leather express.
We began the erratic stumble back to our respective dormitories. After crossing the flight line checkpoint, it was about a mile back to the building. You know how they say most accidents happen within a mile from home? This was clearly no exception, although I don't know if it falls into the accident classification. Here's a mental picture for you. Although the moon is full, it's clouded over with snow clouds. We walked on the left side of the street so that we could see oncoming traffic if it came. There was a sidewalk there, but we didn't use it. First of all, as drunk as we were, I doubt we could have stayed on it. This was a danger because on the other side of the sidewalk was one of the larger Benjo ditches that we have here on base. A Benjo ditch is a strange and mysterious thing. It's a ditch that the septic and sewage systems run out into. There are pipes here and there throughout the ditches, but many places are just open for all to see and smell.
This stories of Benjo Wookies coming out and attacking are as old as can be. I imagine since there's been American forces in Korea, there's been Americans succumbing to the Wookie. This night would ultimately be just another story for the senior enlisted to tell to the junior enlisted to keep them good and scared.
Back to my point, we're stumbling past a part of the ditch where pipe ands and open sludge begins. One would think that even raw sewage would freeze in coldness like this, but it seemed as if the very snow itself was afraid to fall anywhere near it. My two buddies and I were doing our weaving in the street, far enough from the ditch not to fall in, but close enough to want to be back in our rooms away from the smell.
"Dude, let's walk faster," Erich said, "it's freakin' freezing out here."
Rather than speeding up, Kris stopped. "Hang on a sec, man. I'm about to puke."
I looked back at Kris, "Are you serious? Well, don't do it in the street. Go over there by the ditch. We're not gonna wait for you, so get it all out and catch the hell up."
Erich and I did walk a bit slower. We were drunk and wanting to get home, but we weren't about to leave a wingman behind. That's just bad form. Although perhaps had we waited for him altogether, none of this would have happened. There is something to be said about strength in numbers.
As we kept walking, we didn't look back at the sounds of Kris hurling. Why would we? We didn't look back at the odd noises that came later. Perhaps it was the alcohol. We only looked back when we heard the splash.
"Holy shit! He fell in!" Erich turned and walked toward the sound of the splash.
I turned with him and began laughing at the thought of Kris covered from head to toe in all that muck. We walked toward the sound, as it was difficult to see exactly where he had fallen in. Then we smelled it, an awful stench that made Erich and me vomit as well. We never made it over to the ditch though. We heard gurgling sounds, and then Kris screaming.
"Guys! Help! Something's got my leg! It's pulling me into the pi--"
He never finished his sentence. All I saw was a dark shadowy form being pulled beneath the surface. I heard bubbles rise to the surface and pop. They rose slowly, not like in water, but as if Kris were drowning in a pool of honey. Then it rose up from the surface. It was the Benjo Wookie. She was large and hairy and the stench coming from her gaping maw smelled like the rotting of Kimchee cabbage and rancid meat. She planted a bare and slimy foot onto the bank of the ditch, hoisting her immense girth up out of the ditch.
I had heard stories of how alligators wrestled their prey down to the bottom of the river and stored it for later eating. I shuddered at the thought of Kimmerle dying in such a horrible way. Suddenly I smelled fresh urine. I looked down (a bit too instinctively), and saw that it wasn't me. Erich must have pissed himself.
Clearly, the beast smelled it too. She turned to my other friend and grabbed him by his head. Erich was a small guy, and next to this monstrosity, he looked like a ragdoll as she broke his neck in one sickeningly clean snap.
"GIMME THAT SPAM!" The beast roared as she tossed my friend into the ditch to die. Then she turned to me. I did piss myself this time.
Not being the bravest of men, I did what any other self-respecting coward would do after seeing his two friends viciously killed by this abomination of nature. I turned and ran. No longer drunk, all I could think of was saving my own skin. I was not a fast runner, and I knew I was dead meat. I ran anyway. Instinct drives us in situations like that.
I could hear her breath as she pursued me. She was gaining easily. I began to cry as I ran. "Please don't kill me! I want to live!"
I felt a massive clawed hand grip my shoulder and turn me around. I knew this the end. This time I shit myself. I don't know if one can say this is what saved me or not. What happened next may have been even worse.
"YOU"RE SLEEPING WITH ME TONIGHT!" She leered at me with the gaze of an inhuman beast. Her foul breath spit particles of only God knows what onto me.
That was the last conscious thing I remember. I'm sure I blacked the rest out, as I still wake up from nightmares involving a dark shadowy form riding me while I weep loudly. I woke up 2 days later in the hospital. My flight chief was there, as well as my 2 buddies' supervisors.
"What happened?" I asked as I tried to sit up.
"We were hoping you could tell us," my commander said as she walked into the room. "We've got 2 missing Airmen, and one who just got out of critical condition. All we know is that it was an alcohol related incident, and that Kris and Erich were last seen leaving the hooch with you. Where are they?"
"Ma'am,", I began, "You're not going to believe this..."
User Reviews
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-12-20 22:58:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
JonnyX was killed yesterday when his hard drive exploded and he was buried underneath seven tons of untreated waste material he was planning to post next year.
In lieu of flowers, please donate here: http://216.220.97.17/
Submitted by swimmingbirdblue (user info) at 2006-12-20 17:59:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
The story is more an inside joke than anything. I know that inside jokes are really uncouth when they're told in front of folks that are not on the inside, but posting on Ubersite is part of the joke. Thanks for all the creative and constructive criticism. I'm still working on my technique.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2006-12-20 17:41:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-12-20 17:28:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Well, this seems like it took some effort and it wasn't bad. Couple things though:
1. Don't know that I'd call this horror as it didn't scare me. The wookie came and killed the friends too quickly. There wasn't enough buildup. Good horror stresses the buildup to a murder/killing over the actual act. See any Hitchcock movie.
2. The wookie was your title character, but you gave him/her almost no introduction. What were the legends? Why are people scared of it? Where did it come from, etc? All the bar details leading up to the walk home could have been distilled into a paragraph and the space filled with wookie lore.
My $0.02. It's a good start though, keep posting.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2006-12-20 07:28:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I scanned it and my eye settled on "GIMME THAT SPAM!"
These three words have never before been seen in this order. +1
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2006-12-20 06:11:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Cool. But 'Gimmee that spam'?