{Eyes Ellen suspiciously} You can’t fool me with that - I know better. “Let’s go to Maine - we’ll have a great time with all those lakes and stuff!” Sure, until the killing starts.
That mostly never happens “on the TR”. Mostly.
Better not see the movie–The Tingler is on your own spine!
I feel bland by comparison: Thanx to a glancing reference in Travels With Charlie, I still put eggshells in my coffee grounds.
I also do all sorts of crazy things because of Illuminatus!, though…
In '91, our honeymoon trip was to Maine (/Nova Scotia) and while we’re walking around Bar Harbor, my husband says, “Between Stephen King and Jessica Fletcher, I’m surprised there’s anyone left alive in Maine.”
Before Lethal Weapon 2, I never thought there could be a bomb in my toilet! But now I check every time.
This one’s become such a routine I almost forgot it: Whenever I walk on the treadmill at the gym, I set it for 4 mph, because that was the speed requirement for contestants in The Long Walk.
OOOoooooh - nice! I don’t do that (or walk on treadmills), but I definitely think about “The Long Walk” while I’m out on a nice, long walk (“Well, it’s been an hour and a half and I’m getting pretty tired - I don’t suppose I could do this for A WEEK!”).
That’s awesome.
Yeah, it’s a nice brisk pace…at the end of my twenty minutes, I’m about ready to collect my first warning!
TMI and I totally shouldn’t share this but… 
I was actually in handcuffs once and my partner – due to medical reasons – collapsed, mid-thrust. At least my hands were cuffed in front of me, so at least I could get the blindfold off to see that he needed medical attention immediately. But I didn’t want to call 911* nekkid in handcuffs, and my thighs were chained together, so I couldn’t have answered the door anyway. So yeah, the second thing I thought of (After, :eek: OMG, what am I going to do? How can I help him like this?) was Gerald’s Game. Damn you, Stephen King.
- I managed to get out of the chains, find the handcuff keys, get myself out, and help my partner. Administered first aid as needed, stayed with him to make sure he was okay. And lo and behold, wouldn’t you know it, a couple hours later, he was up and ready to finish what we’d started. Unchained/cuffed that time.
I did not have to gnaw my own hand off.
Thanks to The Birds, I still get creeped out by groups of birds. I thought I had overcome the fear, a couple of years ago when I bought a bird feeder,(to keep them happy), and started enjoying watching them.
Then I got sick and didn’t refill the feeder for a few days. When I went outside, they lined up on the fence, waiting while I filled it. I had to restrain myself from throwing the bag of seed down and running for my life.
I think there’s some money to be made in manufacturing treadmills that issue warnings if you drop below 4 mph. On your third and final warning, you’re tased until you void your bowels.
I think I read way too much King.
I just went to the doctor today for a cold that’s gone into bronchitis. Apparently something is going around, because the waiting room sounded like a TB ward. I will always, ALWAYS, think of the beginning of The Stand in these situations.
“Dont you want a balloon? THEY FLOAT!”
shudder
I think Stephen King did the world good by making a long television PSA warning a generation of children about the dangers of sewer-dwelling clowns offering balloons :eek:
You just bought yourself a ticket, cmyk.
Thanks to King, I no longer read King. I traumatized myself as a child.
No problem, I just have to go an hour without-- OW, A CHARLIE HORSE! IT’S NOT FAIR!!!
My husband and I both had the stupid coughing thing that was going around about a month ago, and at one point I said to him, “So, this is probably the Apocalyptic Plague, eh?”
I have the stoopid coughing/flu thing right now. If it’s not Captain Trips, it sure feels like it.
Perhaps The Best Christmas Pageant Ever? I remember in the book the Herdman kids used to shut the garage door on each other. They didn’t die, obviously, but it scared me nonetheless. Up until my late teens, I would activate the door closer from the garage wall then run away as fast as I could so the garage door would not close on me.
This wonderful book also taught me the horrors of not piercing my own ears with a needle and an ice cube.
On another trauma from childhood literature, I didn’t start fearing plane crashes until I read Flight #116 Is Down by Caroline B. Cooney.