I have got a story to tell. Be warned if you don't like spooky stuff, because I don't want to just assume everyone here likes spooky stuff, and my story quite fits that description. No way, that would be jumping to conclusions, and that is just not cool. Oh yeah I'm being watched by a big thing that probably wants to eat me or turn me into his mindless minion right now, so I had better get on with it.
A good place to start this story off from would probably be a few weeks back. I was watching my nieces for a few days and they were getting tired of yanking my ferret's tail, so I had to think of a fun idea to keep those little ankle-biters at bay. Now these nieces were clearly into furry creatures, and, like most young'uns, loved being told stories. So I told them the timeless tale of the Yeti, a ferocious creature who lives on Mount Everest to terrify hikers, crush their tents with giant ice blocks, and make them roll snowballs with their gloves off. The nieces were creeped out and excited by the time I was through with the story, and the plan was a success!
My guess is that you thought that was the whole story, huh? Not too spooky, no characters died at the end, the uncanny lost episode that makes viewers go cuckoo didn't get broadcast on a major network, and all's well that ends well, right? Nope. Just begins here, muchacho. That night, after telling the story, I settled down into bed, the nieces in the guest-room bunk, when I hear one loud fucking scream. FROM THE GUEST ROOM! What the crumpets, I thought, forcing my stiff legs to make me stand and my heavy eyelids to stay open for a while. "What's the matter?", I mumbled to whichever niece cried like a werewolf (no werewolves are in this story by the way, sorry).
"You're not going to believe it! I saw the Yeti! It was in my dreams and it wanted to bite me!", Niece 1 explained frantically. This is why little kids shouldn't have energy drinks, I thought. Lost for words, I looked to Niece 2, and she uttered, in a voice that sounded like she had many voices if that makes one granule of sense, "The white-furred being waits on the mountain for YOU. You will lead him to civilization, release him from his self-imposed exile in the interminable blizzard."
Every time I go over this next part of the story, I laugh hysterically, wondering how anyone will actually believe that it's not butter. Anyhow, after Niece 2 went all Voice of the Legion, I spun really fast, heard a Russian baritone faintly sing some wartime tune from the '50s, and saw a clip of someone spreading margarine on toast. Then this whole teleportation sequence ended abruptly, and, I shit you not, I happened to be on the peak of Mount Everest now. Granted, I was half-naked so probably should've immediately froze to death and there was so much snow I practically only saw white, but yeah, it was Everest. Just trust me. Then I heard loud rumbling footsteps that were somehow not muffled, in fact amplified greatly by the snow, and suddenly the Yeti was in front of me.
"Time for another Ice Age!", the Yeti snarled, and picked up an iceberg to throw at me. But I shoved him off a cliff then jumped on the iceberg and rode it back home, so hoisted the Yeti on his own petard I did.
I bet you think that the Yeti was defeated at last, and that's all there is to this story, huh? I've read scarier, you thought, pretty sub-par. But guess what! Once I appeared back in the guest room of my home, the nieces pointed out the window and said, "What's that?" Well golly be goshington, the Yeti was bouncing, yes, bouncing, down the street with 500 snowballs and a ninja star in his clawed hands, ready to exact revenge! So yeah. Now I'm hiding, and the Yeti's got some snowballs he probably wants to throw at me. Oh and I took a picture of him.