When was the last time you screamed like a little girl?

It happens to everyone from time to time, including you.

Mine was a couple weeks ago. My dog was outside tormenting chipmunks as usual, but he had apparently actually found one this time. I heard that stupid squeaking noise that chipmunks make, followed by my dog bonking his head against the stack of 2 x 4s the 'munk was hiding in, accompanied by more squeaks. I went outside to investigate, and call the dog off before he permanently traumatized the thing. I trot down the stairs, slip on some flip flops, open the slider door, and turn about 90 degrees to face the dog. I got about halfway through “Hey, whatcha doing…” when something small and furry took advantage of the dog’s temporary distraction to shoot out of the wood pile and run of the hills… on a path that took it right over the mostly-bare top of my foot.

I admit it, I screamed in a very high pitched fashion, jumped, and shook my foot compulsively (even though the chipmunk was probably in the next county by this point). After a few more high-pitched stuttering remarks, I ran back inside and slammed the door shut. The dog (never accused him of being bright), resumed head butting the woodpile that had just been vacated.

What’s your story?

We always seem to be in a rush in the mornings and making up the bed never gets done, so I tidy up the sheets and comforter before we crawl in for the night.

Just a few nights ago, I threw the comforter and flat sheet back as usual to give them a nice shake and a huge, nasty “wood” roach scurried across the bed!!!

I don’t know if wood roach is the proper term, but that’s what my parents have always called them. They are a much larger bug than a normal, run-of-the-mill cockroach and seem to come in from the outdoors - they’re frightening! Especially when confronted with one in your own bed.

I screamed and squirmed for a few seconds before forcing my husband off the Xbox to come and deal with the little bastard. He was very cunning, but eventually became a huge stain on the bottom of a shoe.

I’ve had severe trouble sleeping comfortably in bed ever since.

A spider ran out of the box I was moving at work. I shouted and nearly swore. But, as I work in a pediatricians’, that would a BAD IDEA ™ I was able to strangle that blue smoke cloud. I wanted to capture it but it got away. I have no idea where it went.

I don’t scream like a girl. My throat closes up and all you’ll get out of me is a “NNNNNNNNGHHGHGHGHGHGHGH!”

I can’t remember the last time I screamed, but today when I went to do my lunch dishes, I *did *say “Whoa!”, and was momentarily taken aback. This guy, seen here trapped and ready to transport, was in the sink. Here, it takes stockof its new surroundings as I release it. Sorry about the fuzzy shots, but here it is, back in the wild, where it blends in well and its existence doesn’t perturb me as much.

Last night, when I stretched out luxuriously in bed, and the cat decided that my little pink exposed toe looked just like a tasty mouse.

Yeeeaaaargh!

Jimminy Cricket, that’s a spider, 3 acres.

Me? Yesterday. I took possession of two Hallowe’en ghouls, and left them by my computer, on the floor, still in their boxes. The plan was to set one up and scare my husband.

Except my husband had his day off yesterday, and decided to vacuum. He found the boxes whilst clearing the floor areas, and… mischief occurred. He set one ghoul up in the main bathroom, and closed the door. He arranged the boxes so that it looked like they hadn’t been touched. It took me about half an hour after I arrived home to go to the bathroom. I pushed open the door, and there, standing in the shadows, was the ghoul.

I screamed so hard my throat was still sore an hour later. I may have had to change my panties too.

Then the bastard re-positioned the ghoul to lurk outside the bedroom door after my shower this morning. Second scream, pretty much like the first.

I will take my vengeance. Twice! He got me twice with my own used ghoul!

Damned thing is still making me start and squeak when I see it. I am NOT used to having a ghoul in the house.

Me, too, but with much kicking and flailing about. Pat McManus calls that a Modified Stationary Panic, and I am its Queen.

Last time was a tick on my jeans. Never touched my skin. My legs did the Russian squat-kick dance, while I sang NNNNNNNNGHHGHGHGHGHGHGHNNNNNNNNGHHGHGHGHGHGHGHNNNNNNNNGHHGHGHGHGHGHGH!!!eleventy!! (alto), franticly ripping off my clothing, and trying to slug a wee tiny little vampire.

The time before that was a damn racoon who decided to investigate my toothbrush breath. Russian squat kick dance, a low alto NNNNNNNNGHHGHGHGHGHGHGH, all while horizontal and trapped in a sleeping bag. I did eventually calm down enough to revert to obscenities, while trying to bitch-slap a critter who had left while I was still in the NNNNNNNNGHHGHGHGHGHGHGH stage.

The time before that was another freakin racoon, with a similar response.

The time before that, I was very young, and just a wee bit high-strung. That time, I went into what Mr McManus terms a Full Bore Linear Panic. That time, t’was a bear, snorfeling about the campsite. I bounced off rocks, trees and co-campers in my attempt to make a high-speed escape, without slowing down through the next three counties and the state line. However, I never made a sound. Took another full day for my vocal chords to respond, and what came out at that point could not be mistaken for any sound a stereotypical little girl might make.

Unfortunately, to the best of my knowledge, I have never screamed like a little girl, even when I was one.:smiley:

When I gave birth to one. She’s quite the healthy five year old now.

I don’t remember the last time I screamed like a little girl, but just about an hour ago I jumped out from behind a door and scared my son so bad he actually fell over backwards. I laughed until it hurt. So did he. It was great.

Last week, my two-year-old autistic client and I were going for a walk around the neighborhood when a huge, scary-sounding dog slammed its body into the fence we were passing. I screamed and grabbed the kiddo, but he did not react at all. After I recovered myself, I told him, “Whew, that scared me!”

All the way home, he kept repeating, “A scare me! A scare me!” and laughing.

I get really easily–and loudly–startled into a little-girl shriek sometimes, for something as innocuous as somebody tapping on my shoulder. I dunno what that says about me.

About a week ago when my new kitten bit my boob.

I have never screamed like a little girl…not even when I was a little girl. (Having only brothers will do that to you.) I just silently take action, like the day I slammed a door into a small child while trying to get away from one of these.

I did have a little start when I was working one day at my computer in the basement and a 3/4-inch-diameter black spider ran off of me and into my keyboard :eek:. It freaked me out so much that I reflexively submitted my document without making some rather substantial changes. It stayed in my keyboard for the rest of my shift (about 4 hours). I have no idea if it ever came out.

A few days ago I was laying on the couch with Zoe, our german shepherd/doberman mix, laying on top of me. My husband was sitting on the loveseat accross the room, and decided to offer Zoe a piece of the cheese he was eating. In her mad scramble to get to the cheese as quickly as doggily possible, she kicked me, hard, right in my hoo-hah. I said “YEEK!” very very loudly, then whimpered for a while. I’ve been told that when a guy gets kicked in the nads, it hurts a hell of a lot more than when a a girl gets kicked in the hoo-hah. You have my sympathies, guys.

Centipede crawling across my arm at around 12:30 in the morning as I was winding down in bed. This was about two months ago.

I haven’t got the vocal chords to scream like anything, and if I tried all you’d probably get is a strange “Urrrrrrrrrrghhhhhh” sound. The last time I jumped with fright( although I’d prefer to call it ‘surprise’.) is when someone going past in a car actually screamed at me. I nearly fell into some nearby bushes, and prayed the vehicle would hit a lampost further up the road, so I could run up and kick ten barrels of shit out of the clown.

I’ve never screamed (meaning that sound people make at the top of a roller coaster) although I’ve grunted in fear I’m sure.

The last time I was really frightened involved a waterbug.

This is absolutely hilarious! And it’s also me!

A good friend of mine moved back to the area after years in the military, and actually ended up buying my parents’ house (I grew up in) when they retired. One day when visiting, he told me he had found an old box of our stuff in the attic.

I took it home and sat down to look through it. It was a lot of old papers/photos/holiday cards and so I turned it over to dump it out and sort the whole thing. I was sitting cross-legged on floor, in shorts, no shoes/socks. Dumped it right in front of me and at least a dozen (although it looked like hundreds at time) earwigs AND silverfish ran for cover in every direction.

I almost dislocated my knees getting up and back so quickly, shrieking with nary a reservation the whole time. I even had the frantic hand wringing/shaking and vocal ungh-ungh-ungh-gah-gah-gah as I realized they were all now loose and hidden in my bedroom.

Fortunately I was there alone, and my teenage daughter did not witness my verbal-emasculation.