I’m sure we’ve done this before, but I guess it’s time to do it again.
In Orwell’s *1984, *there’s a “Room 101,” which is a torture chamber. For each victim, the room contains the one thing that is his “worst nightmare.” For the book’s protagonist, the room contains rats.
For me, it would contain maggots . . . about five feet deep.
What’s in ***your ***Room 101?
Puke.
Either Liverpool fans, or spiders.
Maybe a room full of arachnophiles, with their pets, who support Liverpool.
Bikini girls with machine guns.
It’s not so bad.
Suffocation. Blindness.
Gagged and restrained.
For me, that’d be in a totally different room.
Chocolate. With caramel. Scary, scary stuff.
Oh, no, not room 101!
Eels.
Mold.
Spiders.
A real-life lotus boob. Just Google it if you don’t know. I can’t even look at the Google results without wanting to fling my laptop across the room.
For my wife, it would be worms, or slugs, or both.
For me, flying bugs - or cockroaches. I used to deliver and pick up furniture for a rental business. Cockroaches galore in some houses, especially in televisions and appliances. I hated those things.
Brendon Small
“I was bred and born in a briar patch!”
My room 101 would probably be loads of white grapes that had been stepped on. Or it would be big angry dogs.
Karaoke
A room with no light, mirrored walls, and a single, large spider.
Separately, the first two are no problem for me; however, putting me in a dark room with a mirror is pure torture. I have no clue why it bothers me so much, it just does. As for the spider, they just plain creep me out.
It’d leave me a gibbering mess in a matter of minutes.
Rodents, rednecks and dumb people.
Big, angry dogs. Or a fire.
A pool drain.
The tiny elevators that go up inside the Arch in St. Louis, with the others seats occupied by the faceless cat.