Ok, so as all of us probably know, Eminem isn't the nicest dude on the block. Known to write about killing his ex-wife and mother, this guy helped me to stop being a fan after I had a mix encounter with one of his CDs and a camping trip. Here's why:

One weekend, I went out camping with my friend Christie. She and I brought along our CDs and everything so that we could listen to music while we slept. Well, after one nite of blissful camping sleep, I had decided that I would play a little prank on Christie. See, Christie is one of those types who you can scare just by flicking your finger five feet away from her face. I pride myself on scaring people. I think it's hilarious and that it brings a little excitement into people's consumer-driven lives. (Useless fact: When you get really terrified, all the Vitamin C in your body disintergrates! So get scared and eat an orange!)

Back to the story: So that nite we go in search of some sticks for firewood, and I get ideas in my head for how I'm going to scare Christie. Well, I thought the traditional teenage horror story outta do it right, so I made this big story of four teenagers who get brutally murdered in the same lake we're camping at by a man who made his teeth outta metal and lived in the forest. Christie, as I planned, becomes irrationally terrified for the nite, leaving me with a hearty laugh. Then comes nitetime. So we're laying down in the back of the car, wrapped up in blankets and what not, and Christie decides to put Eminem on the stereo we brought. I'm cool with it at first and begin to doze off. Eventually, I wake up from being cold and it's only been about an hour and a half since I fell asleep. Well, if any of you have heard Track 16 on one of his CDs; you know, the one where it consists of the sound of a body being drug through the woods, then you know it's a bit creepy. So sleepy me wakes up to this, and I can admit that my story didn't leave me with good dreams. I forget about the stereo and slow my breath down to hear the sounds around me. Like a dumbass, I start to believe that the music really isn't music; BUT THAT SOMEONE IS ACTUALLY DRAGGING A BODY OUTSIDE NEXT TO THE FRIGGIN' CAR. I freak out a bit and wake up a sound asleep Christie, who apparently wasn't affected too much by my story as I was. I, being paranoid and scared shitless tell her about what I believe is happening.

Bad friggin' idea.

Christie starts to freak out. And not you're typical freak out, but she was close to hyperventilation and to pissing her pants. I turn off the stereo and calmly take the role of the hero and pull out my car keys and climb slowly into the driver's seat. Now, this car really is the perfect definition of shitty. So, of course, it won't start. Well, I stay seated, trying the car every so often, and Christie continues to think her supposed last thoughts aloud in the back. Suddenly, Christie grabs my arm and squeezes hard. She tells me that I need to go out and check the car. 'Fix it,' she says. 'We need to leave right bloody now.' Luckily, I always carry a knife with me. Nice switchblade with symbols carved into the side for good luck. I pull it from my sock, put on my boots and thick jacket. Take a deep long breath and unlock the door.

Outside, it's really cold and I keep hearing twigs snapping and the wind howling. Pure horror movie stuff. I shuffle a few inches away from the car, making sure nothing is under the car, waiting to slice my heels. (And they say movies don't influence...Ha!) Suddenly, I hear things above me start to snap. I stop dead. Flick my knife out. And spin around. Nothing, of course, but my imagination. Then, a bird flies out of the tree above me, and I laugh at myself. But the snapping continues.

~This next part may seem a little overexaggerated, but please, stay with me on this. I'm not a person who gets scared much.~

And a tree branch falls on top of the car. I fall back into a bush. I hear Christie scream over and over in the car, and she starts banging on the window for me. Thankfully, I didn't have to pee then, otherwise the dirt would've ran yellow that nite. I struggle to get out of the bush, but realize I'm caught. Damn my imagination; really. Because at that moment I believed it was someone holding me back. I lung my knife behind me, which hits a tree stump and sticks. I wriggle out of my jacket and run towards the car. Christie is in a little shock and doors are locked; keys in the ignition.

Damnit.

If someone had had a video camera right then, they would've won thousands on our footage on that show with the stupid yet hilarious videos.

I grab a stick from the ground and bang on the driver's side window, having no help from Christie. It finally smashes and I climb in, stick and all. And I drive seventy out of the campgrounds.

I did return for my knife and jacket, but my jacket was gone and Christie had gone earlier and gotten my knife for me.

That was the one moment in my life where I truly thought my life would be made into a slasher movie. Goddamn Hollywood and sadistic rap music...

Happy Camping. Sara*

-- Sara Parks (xstatic4@sbcglobal.net), March 10, 2003