Board Thread:Off Topic/@comment-24077689-20140319055058/@comment-24486291-20140330014041

My name's Sam Gale, and I currently live in South Carolina. I'm 15 years old. I don't have a job, but I'm attempting to get one at my local grocery store.

I suppose we should start from the beginning, hm? My earliest memory is of wiping my rear end with my mother's unused feminine products. Strange, I know.

The next three houses that I will describe were all in Roanoke, Virginia.

The first place I remember living in was a two story blue house on the side of a hill (https://www.google.com/maps/@37.268109,-79.914201,3a,75y,50.94h,86.97t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1sJqgSUjoRGTRSoHPaE_Ge1w!2e0). We didn't have very many people living around us. There were many interesting things about this house as well as strange things. For starters, there was a large radio mast directly behind our house. It was pretty cool. Our dad usually kept a garden in the backyard where we grew all sorts of vegetables that we eventually sold. We probably made over $1000 off of that business. Inside the house, however, are where my biggest memories are.

In the bathroom upstairs, there was a large chip in the tiling on the wall that looked like Texas. In our bedroom, there was a water stain on the ceiling that looked like Jesus. It was an old house.

These next memories are in no particular order because I don't remember when they happened.

There was a metal grate at the bottom of our steps. It led to a furnace. I remember thinking that it actually led to my friends house. I almost when in it one time. How upsetting.

My first console was a Nintendo 64. One day, my cat stepped on the reset button while I was playing Banjo Kazooie. To get back at it, I took it and stuffed it in a lunchbox. I forgot about it. It was in there for 6 hours. The cat was okay afterwards, but my mom was very mad.

During a large thunderstorm, a bolt of lightning once traveled through our electrical system and came out of our ceiling fan in the living room. I'm not joking.

There are many more of these memories, but I need to move on. Our next house (https://www.google.com/maps/@37.271429,-79.92713,3a,75y,187.91h,87.86t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1sw2uoytsHuBUKo3PbSVay5w!2e0) was an apartment in a more "American" neighborhood, where the children always played outside and there white picket fences and you could practically smell the American Dream in the air. We lived on the first floor while our neighbors, an immigrant family with their child, lived upstairs.

These people constantly fought in the night and it always woke us. We thought that we would ease their tensions by doing something nice for them. We painted a fully detailed Mexican flag on the back fence. They liked this. Through some altercation, however (I don't remember what it was about), we ended up arguing with them and throwing eggs on the painting.

During this time, I fondly remember the joys of a more suburban lifestyle. During the summer, I woke up and watched Saturday cartoons while eating Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp. God, I loved that. I played Knockout Kings 2000, Legend Of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time and Super Mario 64. Ah, memories. Bringing this up is making me sad.

When we moved out, we didn't move far. In fact, we moved about a block away. This time, we were in a house on top of a hill (https://www.google.com/maps/@37.267983,-79.926466,3a,75y,326.88h,77.34t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1snKi9gX7TLMdJ9R8RrXNeEQ!2e0). Down the hill, there was a whole block of places I used to love to go. There was a large game shop called Replay which held a buttload of games. There was a CVS where we usually went to buy my dad chocolate. There was a Hardees that actually used to sell fried chicken as well as thickburgers.

Of course, this place didn't last long. After about a year or two, we moved to South Carolina. This is where things go downhill.

Our first house here is the house that I live in in http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Hanging_Man_Hill. You can look it up, if you're so interested. Gaston is in the middle of nowhere, so there's basically nothing around. I met my friend Terry (not his real name) and other kids like Garret (real name) and Cody (real name). Garret was nice, but very strange. Cody was a douchebag that broke my skateboard in half. Terry? You know about him.

Finally, I moved away from there and to Columbia where I currently reside. I don't want to give my current address (creepers be creepin'). This place is a lot better than Gaston, but way worse than Roanoke. I wish I could move back.

So, yeah. That's me. I could go into things about... I dunno, my abusive dad and whatnot, but I don't really think anyone wants to hear about that and I've probably rambled on enough anyway.