The Day I Conquered The World (Or, How I Won An Epic 10 Player Game Of RISK) -- A Tale Of My Existence

Greetings & Salutations, Y'all!

Its been a few weeks since I posted anything new, sorry about that. I've been busy with work and with some very early spring cleaning -- something I normally do in early March, but just got the itch to do. Being a bit of a procrastinator at times, I know that when I get in the mood to actually do something constructive, its best to strike while the iron's hot.

Unlike the usual house cleaning I do year round, spring cleaning consists of deep cleaning my things, including organizing personal affects I keep in a couple of small trunks in a storage closet -- old photographs, receipts, certificates, and childhood keepsakes. 

It was during this organizing that I came across several pieces of folded paper in an old metal cookie can that included some bowling scores on outings with friends and my two brothers that were at least a decade old.

Okay, I wouldn't say I'm a hoarder exactly, but when it comes to the times I spent with friends and loved ones, those things I try to hold onto. A couple of letters from old teachers. Letters from home and from my grandmother while I was in U.S. Navy boot camp. A letter from a girl that I dated in my mid-20s. There were also a couple of small notepads with the scores of several board games that I played with my brothers and family. All of these brought back some really wonderful memories.

Among all these sentimental keepsakes was a small piece of yellow notepad paper that brought back a memory that couldn't help but make me smile, and (I admit) tear up slightly. It was the score and notes that I took while playing one of the best games of RISK I'd played during the summer I turned 17.

For those who don't know RISK is a military strategy board game centered around world conquest created by Hasbro. It was also the obsession of a certain group of young people in their early 20s and a few friends of mine that I was hanging out with for a big part of one particular summer. It would actually continue to be a game I would continue to obsess over and play later on with another group of close friends the next summer. We were all super nerds and RISK was basically our early 90s version of Dungeons & Dragons.

The summer of 1993 was an especially awesome one for your favorite blogger. It was the summer I turned 17 and hung out with a group of older kids, including a really cool 20 year old military brat named Haylei, who also played a significant role in this particular story.

Before I go on, there's a few things I need to get out of the way about Haylei. She was one of the coolest girls I've ever known, and someone I shared some really awesome memories with in the all-too-brief time I knew her.

The best thing about her was, despite the fact she was pretty cool, Haylei was also a bit of a nerd who introduced me to Japanese anime, and we both shared a huge love for classic Godzilla and Kaiju movies. She was also a complete nerd when it came to horror movies too.

In addition to taking me for long rides on her circa 80s Honda motorcycle, she was also the one who introduced me to the infamous Faces of Death mondo movie series and the ever-popular 1981 Heavy Metal animated fantasy anthology movie....not to mention humbled my cocky ass in several player verses player games on the Super NES.

One more thing my then 16-going-on-17-year-old adolescent self liked was that she was both modest and sexy to a point. While she never showed off too much skin publicly (aside from her legs when she wore shorts when it was super hot and her two-piece bathing suit in the pool), she almost always wore ripped jeans and large black t-shirts for her body type, and usually went without a bra so that her awesome breasts were always moving beneath her shirt whenever she moved certain ways.

Needless to say that Haylei was a big reason that I spend about seven weeks of my summer vacation hanging around with college age kids who were house sitting for some neighbors. She also seemed to enjoy hanging around with me in particular for reasons that I didn't quite get at the time. There's actually more to that story, but I might save that part for another Tale Of My Existence.

Anyhow, it started out one Saturday evening just as summer was just about to officially begin on the calendar. My 17th birthday was going to be a few days later on the 24th of June.

There were five of us hanging out at the time, your favorite blogger, Haylei, her two house sitting friends Ronald and Cassie, and a younger guy from high school named Gary. Me and Gary were the youngest at 16 and 17 respectively, while the others were in their early 20s. We were also the only ones not smoking weed. I remember that Gary was also annoyed that everyone else wanted to play RISK rather than get in the above ground swimming pool in the back yard.

Ironically, it would be Gary that would come up with the idea that would lead to the subject of this particular Tale Of My Existence.

Ronald, who happened to be the oldest at 22, and a total geek, brought out the newest version of the RISK game that he'd purchased at Walmart earlier that day: the beautiful 1993 RISK game set with the extra-large three-fold illustrated game board and the optional Secret Mission & Capital Capture cards. This will always be my all-time favorite version of the classic game.

The very sex-ay 1993 RISK™ illustrated game board....my all-time favorite version!

Ronald was extremely excited about the idea of opening the brand new game box and playing with the new board and cards, but Gary had something else in mind.

I don't quite remember, verbatim, how the conversation happened; but it started with Gary asking if they could wait till tomorrow to play because he could get more people and they could make the game more interesting. He proposed getting together a real party of more than six people to play using pieces from the old RISK game if need be to have a real high stakes game of world domination.

I remember Ronald's eyes lighting up at the idea and he added the real incentive: everyone who wants to play puts up twenty dollars and the winner gets the full amount. Gary agreed, though they lowered the cost to ten dollars since most everyone who could play would be able to come up with that amount easier.

Everyone was caught up with excitement over the idea and phone calls were being made to gather a party and pick a time and date. Ultimately we came up with ten people and thus the Epic 10-Player RISK Match was set for the next day, a Sunday. Ten players came up to a grand prize of $100 U.S. dollars, cash to the winner.

It was agreed that everyone meet at the house the next day about noon. Ronald even agreed to wait until then to open his new RISK game so that the virgin game pieces and cards would remain untouched and pristine. Like I said, these guys were total nerds.

I wasn't completely immune to the excitement at the prospect of playing in a large game of RISK. Granted, up to this point I had yet to actually win a game with any of these kids and never played a full game -- at most five people at any given time would play -- just being part of a large group of players was enough to get me excited. It also filled me with a desire to do my best and win.

That evening, when I went home (the house they were watching was only a block and a half from where I lived at the time) I spent the evening before the big game re-reading my personal copy of Sun Tzu's The Art Of War in mental preparation -- a book of axioms that I highly recommend for the personal library of any avid military historian and strategy game enthusiast respectively. I was completely stoked for the event.
 

I'd already made an alliance with Haylei, with the deal that, should one of us win the game, we'd split the $100 pot 50/50 and celebrate together.

It also turned out that five of the other players also made alliances, including Haylei's two friends (since they were a couple that was not much of a surprise) and three of the other local players (which included the two of my high school acquaintances, including Gary) choosing to form a Triple Alliance. The others who would be involved opted to try and go it alone, or attempt to make small, temporary truces during the game itself.

I wasn't the only one who was taking the prospect of a 10-player RISK game seriously (or at least the idea of winning $100 seriously). In fact, one person was taking it a bit too seriously: a friend of the group named Lewis (who will be referred to from this time forward as Lord Wellington -- a name he wanted to be referred to in fact) actually arrived cosplaying as an 18th century British officer complete with Revolutionary War reenactor's red coat and braided whig, with fake Halloween costume campaign medals on the left breast and speaking with a fake aristocratic British accent throughout the game play -- really folks, I'm not making any of this up!

One of my strategies that I resolved before taking part was to do nothing that would make me stand out, or draw too much attention to myself to the other players that I didn't really know. I was already the youngest person in the room, so most of the older kids largely dismissed me anyhow as just an "extra body". This would turn out to be the best strategic move I would make that wasn't done on the game board.

I wore a simple loose-fitting black Motorhead t-shirt and camouflage military surplus cargo pants with a hole above the right knee. Haylei was also wearing a loose black t-shirt with some band I can't remember and worn jean shorts that showed off her legs. She also didn't wear a bra, as usual. In a way it was our own unofficial uniform.

The last person to arrive showed up almost an hour late, but by then the ordered pizzas and drinks were already there so nobody complained too much. Eight guys and two girls were gathered and ready to play. There were also a couple other people there, but they choose to watch and cheer on their friends....and help themselves to the snacks.

Everyone put their ten dollars in an envelope which was bulging with at at least one $20 bill and an assortment of $10, $5, and ten dollars in $1 bills, making the pile look like a much larger amount than just the $100 grand prize.

Ronald finally opened his new game box and we took the time to remove the plastics from the cards and snap off the game pieces from their plastic tabs. Aside from the distinctly four lightly colored pieces from an older version of the game, everything smelled new and even the large dining room table we were using was polished with lemon-scented cleaner beforehand. The windows were open to the afternoon sunshine and there was actually a very slight breeze that day even though it was the first day of summer. I sat near one of these open windows able to enjoy said gusts of air.

Soon however soda cans, beer bottles, and various junk foods would litter the outskirts of the game table -- although I'm glad to report nothing greasy dirtied the game board, and nothing was spilled on the table that day in spite of that. Everyone was taking this seriously.

 
Since Lord Wellington was dressed for the part, he was elected the official DM* of the Epic 10-Player RISK Match -- which in this case meant he was the keeper and distributor of the sacred game cards. He was also the designated keeper of the sacred envelope with the ultimate prize money.

*DM (or Dungeon Master) is the term usually reserved for those who control tabletop role playing fantasy games. Here I'm borrowing the term to describe the person in charge of distributing cards and pieces for the rest of the players because "box guy" or "card person" doesn't seem to work.

Lord Wellington shuffled and then distributed the 42 Territory Cards to everyone. Because there were ten of us, eight people received four cards and two others got the extra fifth territory to start out with. This was determined by each of us rolling the two white Defense dice and the highest two numbers getting the extra cards. Neither me, nor Haylei, managed to get the spare territories; which was actually a good thing since it would have made the two players who did higher priority targets -- and actually did for one of them right off the bat.

Lord Wellington then asked us which color armies we claimed. Again we rolled for position in choosing. Lord Wellington didn't have to since he was in charge and naturally picked the bright Red pieces. This time I was fortunate enough to roll higher so I picked Gray -- figuring it would make me stand out less. Haylei picked the Green pieces.
 

The four territories I got were: Egypt, Indonesia, Quebec, and Greenland. The latter two were a stroke of good fortune in one regard since they form a connecting defensive pair that you can shift armies back and forth between easily. The only bad part was that Greenland was so large it was a major target. Indonesia was set right at the choke point with Siam and defense of the much coveted and easily defended continent of Australia. Egypt was right in the worst possible place between three major continental battlegrounds.

Haylei got Brazil, Western United States, South Africa, and Eastern Australia -- which unfortunately was not connected to Indonesia, so there was no help there in terms of common defense.

We placed one single infantry piece on each of our territories. Before adding our starting armies to the board, we were all given a few moments to consider strategies. We were not allowed to sit next to our allies during the game to avoid giving any pair, or group, an unfair advantage as we rolled clockwise per turn.

Haylei took my hand and led me to the kitchen for sodas where we both agreed that I would take North America and she'd go for South America and Africa and build up from there. Australia we wrote off, but agreed to put enough force there to keep the other two players who had territories there from taking the continent right away for the next couple roles at least. (It actually turned out to take about five turns, I think, before someone captured the smallest continent from our holding forces.)

We also agreed that, if we needed to take a place one of us held in those territories, it would be fine. Also, if we ended up being the last two standing, that we'd just declare victory and take the split rather than fight the game out between ourselves for another hour, or more.

So everyone returned to the table where Lord Wellington already distributed the starting armies to our places at the table. I noticed Lord Wellington hadn't already placed his forces impatiently, waiting to see what the rest of us might do and plan accordingly. Smart. 

Normally in a regular game of RISK, the number of armies that begins the game depends on the number of players: 40 armies for two players: 35 armies each if three players; 30 armies each if four players; 25 armies each if five players; and 20 armies each if six players.

Because this was an Epic 10-Player Game of RISK, all of us pretty much agreed that we'd go with the six-player 20 army rule to start out, but after the first turn of each player, we'd go back to using the regular number of extra armies depending on the number of territories we had. The number of troops given is equal to the number of territories controlled divided by 3 and rounded down to the next integer. 

Four and five territories would be the minimum amount of 3 troops per turn. 

I placed the bulk of my forces on Greenland and Quebec, with only a token force of two or three on Egypt and Indonesia -- I wasn't just going to hand over territory without giving someone a bloody nose in the process! Haylei choose to spread her pieces out somewhat evenly, though kept the highest number on Brazil and South Africa.

The paper I found from the day I won an
Epic 10 Player Game of RISK which showed
the final ranked scores and the territories me
and Haylei started out with -- dated 30 years ago.

 

Okay, before anyone asks me how I remember these exact details, or calls BS on this story; the reason I remember this is because I wrote it down on the notepad papers that I mentioned at the start of this story. I kept a record of the order of the players and their order of elimination. I also wrote down the places that me and Haylei started out with. From this point on though, the rest of how the game went is largely from my memory.

The first round of the game went as usual, each player feeling out and conquering a single, or two territories. Nobody tried to completely take anyone out on the first round largely out of an unspoken sense of gamer etiquette. All that changed beginning with the second round when the first player was swiftly eliminated just before it was my turn to roll.

It was here that something else was decided for this particular game: right of the conqueror. Whenever someone is eliminated, the person who dealt the final blow claims the defeated player's cards. This would ensure the game was more interesting. This would also come to benefit me big time later on.

The next player eliminated in the third round was Ronald's girlfriend, Cassie, who took the loss in stride and sat with her boyfriend to help him for the remainder of his time, which was about one round later. Like Cassie, he took the defeat like a champ despite it being his board game.

The next player eliminated in the same round though was anything but gracious about it. He was one of the high schoolers and I remember he got pissed and called us all a "bunch of pussies" and other things in a very high, cracking voice that made him sound like he was going through reverse puberty. Nobody was sympathetic since he bragged about eliminating the first person and thus put a target on himself. He didn't stay very long and left the house still angry he wasn't recognized for the board game god he thought he was. He never came back to play again after that.

Meanwhile, I was slowly taking North America one territory at a time starting with the American east coast and Canadian territories, not drawing too much attention. No bragging, or talking out of turn; just collecting my cards, sipping my Dr. Pepper, and waiting. I was also watching Haylei do the same, although she was taking more attacks since her territorial ambitions were in the more heavily contested southern continents.

Most everyone else was (more or less) trying to take the heavily contested Asia, Africa, and Europe. Australia was going back-and-forth thanks in part to mine and Haylei's strategy of keeping pieces there to make the players wanting the continent work hard for it as they diminished their strength against our defensive rolls.

Personally, I never understood why anyone would try and take Asia, or Europe, at once. Both territories are too large and have too many attack points to make holding them easy unless you've grown your army very large. Even then there's no guarantees if the dice don't go your way.

Egos were also becoming a big factor as Gary would turn on his Triple Alliance teammates and try to score their coveted attack cards. It failed and he was soon chopped down to size and became the 6th place holder when he was eliminated by his former allies.

Sadly, Haylei managed to hold out for seven rounds before the last of her territories were captured by Lord Wellington's red pieces. But the good news for me was she came over and sat beside me the rest of the game cheering me on. When it wasn't my turn to roll she would lean against me, chin on my shoulder, hand grasping the back of my chair, and her left boob resting against my upper arm....which wasn't too distracting. She would whisper encouraging words to me and talk shit playfully to the other players.

Two more players were eliminated, leaving only three players: myself, Lord Wellington, and a guy named Ricky who was the last of the now defunct Triple Alliance.

This is when I finally made my move. I used my cards and now full control over North America to get extra armies and launched my attack on Lord Wellington's forces, taking out my first player of the game and taking control of all his cashe of cards -- and also avenging Haylei. I wasn't concerned about the territories, or how my pieces were now spread out. I'd kept enough in reserve and have my chance to win on the next turn.

Ricky attacked me, trying to make certain I lost at least one territory in each of Europe and North America to ensure I could not get the extra ten men that holding them would have given me. It partly worked, but with the extra cards I took from the conquered Lord Wellington, and the hold I still had on North America and South America, I had close to 30 extra men and began my glorious blitzkrieg across Asia and Africa. I didn't try to take everything at once, but I did take Africa, half of Asia, and kept plenty of soldiers and cavalry ready to defend against the inevitable counter-attack I knew would come.

Ricky, now backed up to half of southern Asia and his control of Australia, realized he couldn't win and graciously conceded the game. It took only about just over two hours and eleven rounds. 

I'd won!

Lewis (the now former Lord Wellington) handed me the envelope and shook my hand congratulating me, as did Ronald, his girlfriend, and Haylei who hugged me tightly....and gave me a kiss on the neck that nearly made my legs go weak for a moment.

There was talk of doing another game for cash later on, although that would never happen again -- nor would there be more than the normal five to six players for another game of RISK at any other time that summer.

As for me, I kept my agreement with Haylei and the two of us split the hundred dollars cash, going out to get some fast food and a movie theater trip later that week. She would also spend some of her share of the prize money on the birthday gifts she would give me a few days later when I officially turned 17 years old. These included: a small silver Claddagh necklace pendant and a large box of brand named condoms -- the later of which were used that night when she took my V-Card and spend the next several weeks that summer teaching me how to make love....but yeah, that's a whole different story entirely. 

Well folks, I hope y'all enjoyed this Tale Of My Existence. Please leave a comment below and let me know what y'all think. Thank y'all for reading and have a wonderful Dixie day, y'all hear!

My Creepy Deer Encounter (Yes, You Read That Right!) -- A Tale Of My Existence

Greetings and Salutations, Y'all!

This month here at Southern Fried Common Sense & Stuff we're counting down to my favorite holiday of the year: Halloween.

October is the first full month of the autumn season here in South Carolina -- and pretty much everywhere else in the Northern Hemisphere -- and many people (yours truly included) see this month as one long build-up to Halloween (Oct. 31st) at the end of the month. This means that, in addition to the leaves beginning to fall from the trees, this is the month for pumpkins on the front porch, classic horror movies, and scary ghost stories.

Over the course of my currently 47 years in this world that God has blessed me with, I've had my share of dealings with the unexplained. Things that, for the most part, I cannot rationally write off as a natural phenomenon -- at least what I would personally consider rational, or natural. I've had at least two paranormal encounters (maybe three, though I'm still iffy on that third one) and one really bizarre and creepy encounter one late fall evening with a heard of deer.

Now living here in South Carolina, I've certainly had plenty of encounters with deer over the years. Some pleasant -- like the ones that show up in my back yard every once in awhile to eat the berry bushes -- and some that were unfortunate -- I've accidentally hit at least one with my car, and been riding in a car and been present for two other deer strikes in previous years. Poor things! I've never been a sports hunter, so I've never shot one; nor do I have any real desire to do so.

Once when I was swiming late one summer night with a notable female friend in my late teens, a beautiful doe came out of nowhere and actually walked up to the above ground pool we were in and looked at us curiously for a full minute before strolling off unafraid. That particular event wasn't so much creepy, but it was strange and can probably serve as an interesting story on its own that I'll share another time -- if y'all are interested that is? Please let me know in the comments section below.

This story however, is not so much about a deer, but rather an encounter with a whole herd of them....and what I now believe was the Not Deer -- well, maybe.

The name Not Deer is pretty much self-explanatory: its not a deer, although it often takes the shape and form of one. The Not Deer is the name given to an Appalachian cryptid that some witnesses describe to be some form of shapeshifter: similar to the legends of the Navajo Skin-walkers.

However, unlike a single creature like, oh say, the Skunk Ape (Southern Bigfoot) or the notorious Lee County Lizardman; the Not Deer is often described by witnesses as more of a phenomenon, like the infamous West Virginia Mothman. Although, unlike the Mothman, the Not Deer is not confined to a specific geographic location in the Appalachian mountain and Piedmont plateau regions of the Eastern United States.

There are a number of stories that can be found online on cryptozoology and paranormal websites detailing encounters with some form of this creature. There are also a number of alleged sightings of the Not Deer told on Reddit from people who claim to have witnessed some variation of the cryptid.

It was reading some of these stories a few months ago that triggered a few memories of the story that I'm about to share with y'all for this countdown to Halloween.

Now, I know that some of y'all -- probably most of y'all -- won't believe this story because I'm basically building up to explaining that I encountered what is essentially an urban legend in real life. I expect the same sort of skepticism that one might give to someone who claimed they had a UFO abduction encounter, or some similar tall tale.

Indeed, I'm can't say for certain that what I, and the person I was traveling with at the time, encountered one late November evening was in fact the Not Deer itself. All I can say for certain is that everything I'm about to share here with y'all is the truth as I personally witnessed it.


My Story 

This trip into the bizarre took place on a late Friday evening in late November of 2012 along a mostly deserted section of SC Highway 901 in eastern Chester County, about maybe ten miles from the town of Richburg, somewhere just below the York County line.

I was driving in my car with a female friend at the time -- let's call her Stacie (not her real name) -- that I was seeing at the time. I was taking her home after an evening at the movies in nearby Rock Hill, and were going back to her home. Her housemate at the time was spending the weekend with her boyfriend, so she invited me to stay the night with her and....uh, watch DVDs.

It would be my only actual time doing so I'm sad to say. She was a pretty cool girl, but she ended up going back with the boyfriend she dumped not long afterwards and eventually moved to North Carolina with him about two years later from what I've heard.

After getting off Interstate 77 at exit 73, and a brief stopover at the Flying J Travel Center and Truck Stop for some sodas, gas, and a few other last minute overnight supplies, we continued down Highway 901 (Mt. Holly Road) towards Edgemoor. 

By this time, it was just a few minutes after 11:30 PM EST and I had the music down low so I could hear Stacie talking to me and the slightly misty rain began to turn into a steady drizzle. I cut on my windshield wipers, which needed to be replaced at the time and made a dull squeak on low. It was starting to get cool at night so I had my heat on low.

It was late so there were very few cars on the road at this time of night. I turned on my bright lights just as we passed through Edgemoor. We made a turn past a local cemetery still on 901 (Edgeland Road) and were headed towards the small town of Lando when we came to the area near the bridge at Fishing Creek when I saw them and slowed the car down.

In the road and on both sides just before the bridge was a herd of what looked like about a dozen deer of various sizes. At least four of them were bucks and the rest all does and younger ones.

"Oh wow!" Stacie exclaimed in the passenger seat seeing the animals all gathered together. I brought the car to a stop and started counting the deer. I managed to get up to about 14 different pairs of eyes, when I noticed something that kinda made the hairs on my arms raise up.

Every single one of them had turned their heads to look at the car. At us. A couple were chewing, a few ears flickered, but otherwise they just stood there, looking at us in that unnerving way. Their eyes were reflecting in the bright lights. I cut them down, but that only seemed to make those bright eyes stand out more somehow while making the brown and gray-white creatures themselves appear a bit dimmer.

Suddenly, Stacie let out a scream that made me jump also. She was looking wide-eyed at the passenger side window, where one female deer came out of nowhere seemingly and was looking right at her through the rain-streaked glass.

I actually started to laugh, but that died right in my throat when I looked ahead and saw that one of the large bucks, which had at least 12 points on his wide antlers, stand straight up on his hind legs. He was about a dozen paces from the front of the car and his glowing eyes never wavered.

At first I thought he was just rearing up, but instead he just stood there like that, balanced on his hind legs, as if he could walk to them naturally....then he did. As my squeaky windshield wipers swiped away the rain water, the buck began moving in a jerky walk, taking one step, then two towards the car on those unnatural hind legs. His head twitched to the side and those eyes never blinked. The other deer in the herd never even moved, nor seemed to react to this.

Stacie, poor girl, did. "Oh my gawd!" Stacie screamed out next to me, grabbing my arm tightly. My heart was in my throat. I don't even remember what I was thinking at the time. I was really creeped out, too scared to move.

At that moment, as if on some sort of collective impulse, all of the deer started charging and ran past on either side of my car like a stampede. A few of them bumped the car, making loud thumping noises -- my driver side mirror was knocked out of place by one. I held Stacie and both of us were yelling. 

Behind us, bright headlights appeared and then a large truck angrily honked at us. The deer were gone, including the strange buck. I didn't even notice he'd gone off with the rest of the herd, or maybe dodged off into the woods on the side of the road? Either way, they were all gone. 

Needless to say, I put my car into gear and drove on. Stacie was drinking down some of her soda. She was laughing, but not in a funny way; more in a slightly hysterical way. She was even crying a little. I certainly didn't blame her. I didn't cry, but I was shaking like a leaf. I needed to adjust my mirror, but I felt unable (or unwilling) to lower my window to do so right then.

"Did you see that one?" She asked me. I could only nod, I had no words for what I saw. When I finally did, all I could say was, "Freaky." Not much more needed to be said to describe the ordeal.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at Stacie's place. I checked my car to see if there was any damage done. Aside from a few deer hairs and the mirror that I readjusted -- the only evidence of the encounter -- there were no dents on the car. The hairs would be washed off by morning following the after midnight rainstorms.

I stayed the night. I was planning to anyhow, but neither of us wanted to be alone after what we went through. I certainly didn't feel like driving again till morning and clear skies. After a bit, both of us calmed down and even laughed over the whole thing. An hour later we were both in her bed and found other ways to calm each other down. Neither of us talked about it and the rain outside helped us both drift off. Thankfully neither of us had nightmares about it -- at least not then.

About a month afterwards, I did have a dream about that night where I did decide to roll my window down and adjust my crooked mirror....only to have the large deer jump out of the shadowed woods bordering the road and bite down hard on my forearm! I woke up and screamed....it was the last real night terror I'd had in years.

People in rural areas who drive at night know the dangers of encountering wildlife crossing the road in front of their vehicles. Encountering a herd of deer at night in the rain just standing in the road with their eyes reflecting in the headlights would be eerie enough on its own, especially late at night. But the strange behavior of that one buck and the sound of the herd rushing past my car still gives me the shakes when I dwell on the memory.

I won't lie, I'm typing this up in the middle of the morning on a very sunny fall day, and there are still goosebumps on my arms as I'm doing so! I swear to y'all, on a stack of whatever books you want me to swear to, that everything I wrote is the truth as I remember it.

Was it actually the Not Deer that me and Stacie saw? I don't know for certain if it really was, or if my ten-year-old memory of the experience was colored by the accounts that I've read about the phenomenon. The way every deer just looked at the car unblinking was really unnerving.

Certainly the behavior of that one 12 point buck was a bit strange. Was it the herd leader trying to intimidate my car? I'm told that rearing up like that is something a deer will do to try and frighten off predators, or when they fight other deer.

My rational mind tells me that was likely what it was. It certainly didn't give any indication it was turning into a monster. Even so, why did it's head jerk like it did? That's the part that always bothered me, and still does to this day.

Also, what made the herd impulsively start running away past the car into the woods? Probably the semi-truck coming up; but even so, why didn't they run when we pulled up to them?

Although there is a very likely 99.8% probability what we saw wasn't actually a legendary cryptid, this strange true story about my creepy night time deer encounter is still a good scary tale of my existence for y'all to enjoy this Halloween season. Please let me know what y'all think in the comments section below, and tell me if any of y'all have ever had a strange encounter with the unknown yourselves.

The Return Of My Sexy Anime Cosplayer Girl -- A Tale Of My Existence

Greetings and Salutations, Y'all.

Several years ago I wrote an article on this blog titled How I Got An Anime-Con Quickie (Or, How Kilts Can Apparently Be Chick Magnets): A Tale Of My Existence (03-10-2018) where I told the true story of a rather interesting and unique moment for your favorite blogger.

As the title suggested it was about how I was approached by a younger woman at an anime con (a Sailor Moon cosplayer no less!) curious about my Ulster Red Tartan kilt and how it ended with that same young woman inviting me up to her hotel room for an all-too brief sexual encounter that I later on had mixed feelings about.

Almost two months after the encounter I wrote about the experience here on this blog; not to brag, but to try and explain and put into perspective my own personal feelings about the whole, somewhat surreal experience.

I didn't give out names (and wouldn't have even though I didn't actually find out at the time what her real name actually was) and I didn't go into graphic detail about what we did together (nor would I have ever done so!); but I wrote how the experience was memorable and, I confess, a bit of a let down. Not because she was terrible in bed (she wasn't) but because it was just began and ended so suddenly.

Oh I've had a few one-night-stands over the years, as well as brief sexual encounters with people I've known for a while, and a few with strangers -- yeah I know, not a good idea -- but in just about all of those occasions they didn't immediately end after the sheets got all sweaty. Also, I've always been the sort of guy who likes to cuddle, talk between sessions, and usually go more than just once. Almost all of my one-night-stands usually stayed the night, shared a shower the next morning, and stayed for breakfast at least.

Also, I'm not being critical and saying that it was the worst sexual experience I'd ever had, or anything. My mysterious cosplayer partner went out of her way to make me feel comfortable the whole time. She was a very sweet person in every possible way; and yes, she was a great sexual partner. My feeling of not entirely being fulfilled by the experience wasn't really her fault. It was just the situation itself and the manner of how quick and fleeting it was that left me feeling like a used piece of tissue.

When I posted the story, I didn't expect it to be one of the top ten all-time highest rated stories on this blog site. In all honesty, I didn't think anyone would actually care about my feelings on the whole experience, particularly when I largely left out the specific and more graphic details of the encounter.

Needless to say, I was very surprised when I got a reply to the article here on this blog almost eight months later from none other than my sexy Sailor Moon cosplayer girl herself.

Identifying herself only by the screen name Princess Serenity (Sailor Moon's adult character in the popular series) she was able to prove her identity by giving a few small details that only the two of us would have known. She then went on to thank me for being discrete when talking about our shared experience while confessing some mixed feelings about our all-too-brief encounter at the con.

She then surprised me more by sending me a personal e-mail link to get in contact with her.

Well my friends, needless to say I was pleasantly surprised and pleased to hear from her; and later I took her up on her offer to get in touch with her.

Since that time, through somewhat infrequent e-mail and online chats over the last couple years, I've gotten to know my mysterious anime hero cosplayer girl far better personally than I did in that one short but very sweet hour we shared in that hotel room. I've learned both what an amazing and talented woman she is, and what a beautiful soul she has in way of her personality.

I can't reveal too much about Princess Serenity, because I swore to keep her actual identity a secret. All I'm at liberty to say is that, in real life, she's a professional cosplayer in her early 30s. Given that there's literally tens of thousands of those in the United States and Canada alone, I don't believe that's giving away too much there.

Also y'all might not remember this, but Princess Serenity does have the distinction of being the first special guest blogger here at Southern Fried Common Sense & Stuff when I posted her One Night Stand 35 Question Quiz (05-10-2020), with her permission, of course.

This leads me to the real topic of this particular blog post.

I have a request by Princess Serenity to post her own personal account of the events in the original story of our shared encounter. She wanted to share her own account of the story of why she was so attracted to yours truly and my kilt, as well as what led to her taking me up to her hotel room.

Now, because I've gotten to know the amazing woman behind the blonde, meatball-head wig and Sailor Moon costume, I already know her thoughts on the subject and concur that it would make a good sequel to the original story.

So, I'll leave it to my readers; would y'all like to hear this follow up of one of your favorite stories on this blog from another point of view? I'm pretty sure I know the answer, but I'd love to hear your thoughts.

If y'all agree, I'll let Princess Serenity know and hopefully get her to write her account and have it published here sometime in the next month or so. Please let me know in the comments section below.

I hope y'all enjoyed my post and as always have a wonderful Dixie day, and y'all come back now, ya hear!

My First Real Kiss (Or The First Time I Played Tonsil Hockey) -- A Tale Of My Existence

Writer's Note: The following personal story contains descriptions of "fluff-level" young teenage romance (kissing and physical touching) and PG-13 level content. If you're not mature enough to deal with that, then find another article. 

A few years ago this blogger told y'all two personal short stories about love and Valentine's Day, which were received quite well. The stories I told were both highly viewed, and I admit a little embarrassing. Yeah, I'll be the first to admit that my personal experiences with love on Valentine's Day are not very spectacular in the romantic department and never have been, but they did make for entertaining stories.

The first of those was the story of my first kiss which was given to me by a female classmate in 2nd grade at age 7. It wasn't a particularly romantic experience (we were both kids after all) and it was a one-and-done moment in the annuals of my early years. I only remember that brief meeting of lips so well because it happened on Valentine's Day.

But what about my first real kiss?

By that I mean the first time really swapping spit. Canoodling. Snogging. Pashing. Soul kissing. What the French call your first baiser d'amoureux.

That's right folks, I'm talking about your first real galocher. Florentine kiss. French kiss. Your first real passionate, erotic, intimate kiss with tongues and everything.

Do any of y'all remember your first real kiss? Odds are good almost every one of y'all remember that first time you truly sucked face with someone memorable in your teenage years -- and for good reason.

According to research in a 2012 study by the University of Toronto people remember things that are emotionally arousing quite vividly and this experience is imprinted in the mind. This is why people can remember intricate details of something that happened long ago but not what they ate for breakfast. According to the research more than 90% of all people vividly remember the details of their first kiss.

The mouth is one of the body's main erogenous zones, with more nerve endings that people have on the tips of their fingers. Not only does the human body have a high concentration of nerve endings in the lips, but the lips themselves have one of the thinnest layers of skin in the body. This results in extra amplified sensation. In short, your body gets more information and pleasure from kissing than just about any other kind of physical touching.

Add to the the fact that kissing also results in the release of intoxicating hormones like dopamine and endorphins in the brain which promote pleasure and relaxation. As a result the specific details of your first romantic kiss are more likely to be etched in your memory forever; possibly even more so than all the details of your first lovemaking experience.

I got my first real kiss from a girl on the evening of Saturday, November 17, 1990. The reason I remember that specifically was because it was at the end of the regular NCAA college football season and I'd finished watching the Clemson Tigers defeat the USC Gamecocks in what is practically a yearly tradition at this point in that particular rivalry. That and I looked up the date of the game for this article.

Actually at then 14 years old I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about sports, though my Grandpa Billy (God rest his soul!) got me hooked on that particular college football rivalry game as a life-long fan of the University of South Carolina.

So after watching that game, and not being honestly shocked by the outcome -- a total shutout, the "Chicken Curse" striking again -- I more-or-less decided to hang out with my sister and a friend of hers from junior high (these days we'd call it middle school -- yeah kinda showing my age here) that was spending the night with us that weekend.

For the sake of the story, let's call her Stacey -- not her actual name which I won't disclose because she's married and she's also still friends with me on social media. I did get her permission to tell this story, which was pretty cool.

Now Stacey, like my sister at the time, was a year behind me at the same school in 7th grade. She was also year younger than me, but already a somewhat well-developed teenage girl -- or at least what my 14 year old self would have considered "well-developed" (meaning she was already wearing a real bra as opposed to a trainer like my other sister's friends at the time). An "early bloomer" as my mom would say.

At age 14 I was still stuck in that transition period that all of us were going through in those middle school years when we were no longer kids, but not really on our way to being adults yet either. At the time I was still rushing home after school to watch cartoons like the original G-1 Transformers series, G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero, Ducktales (Whoo-Whoo), and Chip n' Dale Rescue Rangers, but also just now really beginning to pay attention to all those spicy adult scenes in the slasher movies that I always previously zoned out on waiting for Jason Voorhees to chop up some movie-stupid teenagers with a machete, or some other weapon.

My earliest introduction to actual sex at that time, beyond sex ed classes in sixth grade, had been sneaking peeks at the raunchier scenes from Ralph Bakshi's Fritz The Cat and the original 1981 Heavy Metal sci-fi anthology.

To put it mildly at the time I was only beginning to really notice the physical changes in the opposite sex (and to a lesser degree some members of my own sexual orientation) and the act of sex itself was still a somewhat elusive idea to me in terms of my long-term focus and not the obsession it would become to most teenagers in mid-to-late teen years. 

All that being said at first I wasn't really paying them much attention -- aside from being a bit annoyed by the two of them being giggly and interrupting me watching TV in the living room.

That wasn't to say that my early-hormone-driven 14 year old self didn't keep sneaking peaks at Stacey's breasts. They were hard for me to miss since they were big and she wore a dark t-shirt that outlined them pretty well. The fact she didn't wear a bra at the time was also clearly evident too.

Now being young, inexperienced, and completely oblivious to a lot of things at that age regarding the opposite sex; I pretty much thought my shy glances towards her bouncy fun-bags* were going unnoticed by Stacey.

Yeah, right.

Stacey started to get flirty with me and, being the totally inexperienced, anti-social kid that I was, I responded the best that I could....which I confess was far from cool. She would converse quietly with my sister, both of which would look over at me from the corner of the room and start giggling.

Needless to say, I wasn't amused.

Later on, after more giggly whispers, Stacey wanted me to start hanging out with them. Since the football game was over and I honestly had no other plans that evening except for more television, I suggested some movies.

As we sat on the living room couch to watch horror movies, Stacey sat right next to me between me and my sister, but much closer to me and giving me a much closer view of her chest area. Looking back now, I know that was just what she wanted, but at the time I just thought I was lucky A-F.

Having her close to me like that was also having an effect on me that I can't exactly describe if I want this article to remain "family friendly" but every young male at that age knows what I'm talking about. My only concern at the time was that I hoped Stacey wouldn't notice, and I was very thankful to be wearing extra loose jogging pants at the time. All the same when my sister got one of the large blankets out to cover up with and offer us the other one to share, I didn't hesitate even though I wasn't cold at all.

Stacey and I sat there with a blanket over our laps watching one of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies (can't really remember which one) and at some point we began holding hands beneath the blanket and then she leaned against me. Needless to say I was in total shock that she was this close to me, never mind that she seemed to enjoy being so. Again I was very thankful that blanket was where it was positioned.

Then my sister had to get up and use the bathroom and get more snacks, leaving me and Stacey along together.

Stacey looked at me and then asked me if I've ever "Frenched" before. I shook my head and quietly answered, "Not really." Then she bit her lip, leaned in and kissed me. I remember responding to it and then out mouths opened and our tongues lashed together.

To the best of my recollection, I felt my heart pounding really fast. I even remember the small noise she made in her throat that told me she was enjoying herself too. We went on like that for what felt like a few seconds before she pulled away smiling.

Then I remember something even better happening. Stacey turned her body so she could sit in my lap (which turned out not to be very comfortable right then) and put herself in a better position for a second and longer kiss. While we swapped spit the second time, Stacey took my hand and put it under her shirt, letting me have a handful of what felt like paradise.

If my heart was pounding hard before, it felt ready to explode just then. I could also feel her heartbeat beneath my hand and it was going fast too. That was a feeling I wouldn't forget.

A minute later my sister was coming back and she quickly went back to sitting next to me and pretending the last couple minutes didn't happen, although she kept looking at me out of corner of her eyes and grinning. I'd hope that my own face didn't look too goofy either the rest of the night.

That would be the highlight of the evening. An hour later they went to my sister's room and maybe stayed up longer talking and laughing about who knows what -- hopefully not me, but I was sure I came up in the conversation somewhere. As for me, I went to my room and tried to play video games, even though my mind was racing over what happened and what it might mean.

The next day Stacey and I were alone together again on my front porch. Nothing really happened, except she did let me know that she was only messing around with me the night before. I told he I knew, and I asked her if I was a good kisser. She smiled and nodded. Then everything was pretty much cool between us. I was back to watching television and cartoons later that day.

That's "romance" in early teen years for y'all.

Years later the two of us would talk about it and Stacey would confess that she wanted to see what I would do with her and how far I would go. That she'd been as anxious and curious as I was, but neither of us were going to really go much further than kissing and copping feels.

Both of us were 13 and 14 respectively at the time and two young people who were completely new to the idea of sexuality and had no clue what we were doing. At that age I think we both assumed that the opposite sex had more awareness of what to do than they actually did.

Also it was the start of the 1990s, and while today it seems that popular culture in America pushes for younger people to have more knowledge of sexuality -- far more so than I think they actually should in point of fact! -- at the age of 14, the idea of getting a kiss from a girl, never mind anything else, would have been a highlight of my existence.

Sadly, Stacey never really spent the night over again after that. A few weeks later her and my sister had some falling out over some teenage girl drama and Stacey became just another face in the crowd between classes. Although whenever I would see her walking by and she saw me we did share a smile between ourselves from time to time.

And that folks was the story of my first real kiss with a girl. It would also unfortunately be the last time I would swap spit with a girl before the summer I turned 17 and lost my V-Card to a 20 year old young woman -- but that's a whole different story entirely.

So what was your first French kiss like? Do you have an interesting story about it? Please feel free to share in the comments below.

* Months ago before I published this article, I sent a copy to "Stacey" to proofread as I promised her I would. She thought my description there was absolutely hilarious. God bless her!

How A 90s Cartoon And Its Fans Helped Save My Life

Characters from Nickelodeon's Hey Arnold! TV series (1996-2003/2017).
(Image courtesy of Nickelodeon Studios)

How A 90s Cartoon And Its Fans Helped Save My Life

My Tribute To Hey Arnold! And The Wild World Of Football-head Fandom

By: C.W. Roden 

This blog post is dedicated to the creators, cast, writers, and crew responsible for Nickelodeon's Hey Arnold! TV series -- as well as all my friends and extended family in the Hey Arnold! Fan Community who share my respect and love for really good animation. 
Thank you and God bless you one and all!

On this day, 25 years ago, the cartoon series Hey Arnold! premiered at 8:00 PM EST on the Nickelodeon network.

It comes as no surprise to the people who know me, or follow me online, that I am a huge fan of this 90s cartoon series and a long-time member of most of the show's fan forums and fanfiction circles. Frequent visitors to my facebook page and other social media accounts will often run across an image, or meme, related to the show. I also comment quite frequently on fan sites and forums dedicated specifically to the late 90s animated TV series.

I've been a major fan of this cult classic 90s cartoon series since I was 20. Looking back on it now 25 years after the series premiered, I realize something important -- damn I'm old as shit!  

No, but serious as a (currently) 45 years old pseudo-adult I've lived with a profound love of a 90s cartoon series for more than half of my life. I've written fanfiction stories about the show, been on a number of group chats with other very dedicated fans and the cast and creators of the show over the years, and signed petitions to bring the show back after the final episode was shown in the U.S. back in 2004.

Yep, you can probably say that I am a real Football-head fanatic.

From the very first episodes, Hey Arnold! has had a profound impact on a number of people, and has literally saved lives. There are actually several stories about how children learned how to preform the Heimlich maneuver from one of the premiere episodes Eugene's Bike (Season 1, Episode 1).

Despite the fact the show's original and quite dedicated fanbase are now in their 30s and 40s in most cases, there are also newer generations of younger fans who continue to discover this cult classic to this day, with thousands of works of fanfiction and fanart on various social media sources across the internet.

In a big way, the show also saved my life too.

My love for the show actually started in the summer of 1997, almost a year after it premiered on Monday, October 7, 1996 largely for the role it played in helping me out of a major funk I was going through in my life at the time. I do not exaggerate too much when I say that this series and its devoted fanbase are largely responsible for saving my life.

Okay, before y'all get carried away and start to think: what kind of flake are we dealing with (oops, we're probably long past that one, huh folks?) I want to clarify something here. When I say the show and it's fans saved my life, I don't mean from going all emo and cutting myself, or from thoughts of suicide. Even at the lowest points in my life, I've never reached that particular level of despair thankfully.

Yet, suffice to say, the profound and thought-provoking messages I learned from the show when I watched it during a particular low point in my life as a young adult helped pull me out of a very deep funk of depression that I was in after suffering a serious, life-altering traumatic event and ultimately helped me back on the path toward finding balance in my life. 

Although, I have to admit it wasn't just the outstanding, cult-classic cartoon series itself, but also the amazingly close-knit Hey Arnold! fandom community in general and the friendships that I've developed with many of that group that helped saved my life. They have been my greatest support group over the years, even if they didn't know it at the time.  

Today, I would like to share that particular tale of my existence with y'all.

The Story of Hey Arnold! 

For those who are unfamiliar with the show -- and I don't see how that's possible unless you've lived under a rock, been freeze-dried, or doing hard time -- let me offer a bit of background.

Created by the talented American animator, Craig Bartlett, Hey Arnold! is about a nine year old boy named Arnold (his last name isn't mentioned and this fact is sorta a running gag throughout the run of the series) who lives in a boarding house with his elderly grandparents and half a dozen other boarders -- all of whom serve as kind of an extended family/comedy relief -- in a big city called Hillwood (a fictional city based on the city of Seattle and a couple other major northern cities).  

Arnold himself is quite the character, with a head shaped like a football (another running gag in the show) who wears a green sweater over a red plaid shirt with the shirttails sticking out, and a small blue hat that looks comical in proportion to his large head. The hat has some sentimental significance because it was a gift from his missing parents when he was still a baby. 

What makes Arnold such a good character isn't his fashion sense -- nope definitely not that! It's his personality and interaction with the show's other characters that make him such a cool little fella. Arnold is still a kid, but somehow seems to be more mature than the adults around him. His main strength is being a problem solver and giving out simple common sense advise to his peers in the forth grade and to the other characters. He even manages to help out adults with problems as much as he does his classmates and peers.

The other characters on the show are also pretty cool when you get to know them. At first some of them seem like your typical stereotypes and cliches, but many episodes center on some problem that each of the individual characters have to deal with and as you learn more about them and what makes them tick, it gives each of them a bit more depth. The character development in the show is truly well done, a credit to the outstanding writers for the show, as well as the talented voice actors who bring the performances to life. 

Now add to all that an excellent jazz music soundtrack by award winning composer Jim Lang, and you have what was probably one of the best cartoon series of the late 1990s.  

For nearly 24 years, fans of the classic coming-of-age series have remained loyal to Arnold, the relatable kid living with his whacky grandparents in their boarding home, and his group of loveable, city-dwelling friends.

 

The Deeper Themes Of Hey Arnold!

In terms of the emotional depth and care that the creators and writers of the show put into the stories of each of these characters, Hey Arnold! resonates with its fans, matching the sophistication of Bill Waterson's Calvin & Hobbes and the timelessness of Charles "Sparky" Schulz's Peanuts.

Where the 1980s were a time when cartoons centered around superheroes and shows designed for the sole purpose of selling kids toys: the 1990s were a unique time for American cartoons, where small group of cartoon series were not set in fantasy worlds, or set around kids with superpowers and special abilities, and not being straight-forward slapstick comedies.

Instead, these shows were slice-of-life cartoons set in the real world with its characters dealing with real-life issues: bullying, weight-shaming, parental neglect, ect. You saw teenagers dealing with serious issues like peer pressure, dating, social anxieties that happen in those awkward preteen and early teenage years.

Also, while these shows were largely targeted to appeal to the younger demographic, being 90s animation the writers and animators managed to throw in a good bit of subtle adult humor into the mix from time to time to entertain many Gen-Xers like myself.

Of all these shows, Hey Arnold! stands out because it is perhaps one of the deepest in terms of real emotional depth. The characters in the show have real problems, hopes, dreams, fears, and anxieties that resonate on a personal level to many of the show's fans. 

 

Perhaps this resonates best with Arnold's main antagonist, Helga.

Helga Pataki is probably one of the most deeply nuanced secondary characters in the show -- possibly in any 90s animated series, if not any animated series in general. 

Helga is a bully who backhandedly treats Arnold rudely, pulls mean-spirited pranks on him, and calls him hurtful nicknames like "football-head" among others whenever she's around him. When she isn't around him she quietly professes her undying love and affection for him, and even keeps a secret golden heart-shaped locket with his picture in it. Her character serves mainly as an example of one of the show's main themes: unrequited love. Helga loves Arnold, but can never overcome the fear of possibly rejection from him and certain ridicule from her peers -- cause let's face it, kids can be unmerciful jerkwads to each other over stuff like this.

What is just as compelling about her character is her backstory as seen in many of the episodes centered around her character. Her home life is terrible. Helga lives in the shadow of her older sister, Olga, and is constantly reminded of her inadequacies by her older sister's numerous trophies and awards in the family living room; and by her father, Bob, who constantly compares her and even mistakenly forgets Helga's name and calls her Olga. Her mother, Miriam, is a seemingly-broken down and defeated housewife and an alcoholic (though the show never specifically says this, though it is implied enough to get the point across).

With no real support, other than her best friend, Phoebe, who Helga rarely displays any warmth to in her role as a bully, and with a family who either sets nearly impossible standards for her, or otherwise ignores her existence aside from the bare minimum of parenthood -- Helga finds her only real center of peace through her obsessive love and devotion to the boy she bullies out of fear of rejection.

Much of these tragic circumstances are officially confirmed in the fourth season episode Helga On The Couch (Season 4, Episode 16), which is regarded by many fans as one of the most profound and moving animated stories of the series, and by fans of animation as probably one of the best moments in 90s animation. 

 

The episode involves Helga being forced to visit a school psychologist, a kind woman named Dr. Bliss, who helps Helga to open up about why she bullies the other kids, particularly Arnold. Some young adults and actual adults have actually been brought to tears over watching the episode for the first time. It was one of those stories that stays with you long after you watch it.

Helga's character growth and story arc are so profoundly written that, by the time she actually does confess her love to Arnold later in the theatrical release of Hey Arnold! The Movie, one actually feels a bit proud of her, and even a sense of anxiety yourself waiting to see how Arnold reacts to that confession. The show's most dedicated fans would have to wait a long time -- about 14 years in fact! -- to find out when Hey Arnold! The Jungle Movie premiered in November of 2017, but that's a whole different blog post entirely, one that I will explore in greater depth in the future.

Then there is the title character of the show himself, Arnold, who the moral center of the universe around him.

What makes his character so amazing is the fact he isn't a Marty Stu, but rather that he is a kid that, for all of his efforts at being the glue that holds everyone together and helps them with their problems, also needs help himself from time to time. Arnold himself has very relatable trials and tribulations that he struggles with in his daily life.

In Arnold's character we see a bit of ourselves. We try all our lives to do the right thing based on our own sense of right and wrong. We try to remain optimistic, even in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds. Arnold isn't the typical goodie two-shoes character because it comes easy for him. He does it because of his sense of what is right, even if it comes with a struggle. 

Perhaps the best theme in Hey Arnold! isn't the fact that most of the show's episodes don't involve the characters always solving the problems (in fact in several episodes, they end on a somewhat dark note) but rather the characters learning to accept disappointment.

For example there is an episode called Preteen Scream (Season 3, Episode 6) where Phoebe is completely infatuated with a popstar and his music. Later when she has the chance to meet him, the man she idolized turns out to be a complete fraud. She comes away from the experience bitterly disappointed, but in the end she learns to accept that disappointment, with the help of Helga (who shows a bit of the person she is underneath her tough, tomboy exterior for a moment) to help cheer Phoebe up.

What makes this great story telling isn't the fact that Phoebe faces disappointment, but rather how she deals with it. It's not portrayed as defeating, or depressing, but rather as a moment of growth and as a lesson learned about the heart truth of reality. 

Its stories and moments like these that show a deeply profound sense of poignancy that doesn't lecture, but approaches disappointment and growth in a gentle and meaningful way. This again is thanks to the brilliant writers for the show and the care they show their characters, as well as the respect they show for their fanbase.


Me and Hey Arnold! 

I'd just turned 20 a few weeks before the pilot episode of the series first premiered with the Nickelodeon film Harriet The Spy (based on the really good children's book) though I didn't see it at the time. The trailers for the show began playing on Nickelodeon in the summer of 1996.

When Hey Arnold! premiered on Nickelodeon TV on Monday, October 7, 1996, I confess that at the time I barely watched it. 

At the time, I was 20 years old and preparing for what I presumed would be a career in the U.S. Navy. I was due to leave for basic training in early December and getting more important details in my life sorted out. 

I managed to get in about a month worth of episodes in before I left home and largely forgot about the show entirely for five months. What episodes I did manage to see I thoroughly enjoyed, though I didn't develop any particular sense of attachment to the show at the time.

Fast forward a few months later after graduating from basic training and waiting to go to my job training assignment. I was on weekend liberty with my grandmother Carolyn (God rest her soul!) who braved the bus trip from South Carolina to Great Lakes, Illinois to watch me graduate, and another shipmate who was tagging along with us visiting the local sites in nearby Chicago, Illinois. Afterwards we hung out in my grandmother's hotel room eating pizza and drinking soda. 

While I was hanging out with them, I was able to watch television for the first time in months and enjoyed the Valentine's Day episode Arnold's Valentine when it premiered on Friday, February 14, 1997, an episode noted by many fans as one of their favorites in terms of the shipping between two of the main protagonists of the show: Arnold and Helga. The episode had some of those deep themes I previously mentioned, and stayed with me for a long time after watching it.

Well, three months later, I was back at home playing the role of couch potato again. The circumstances of which I didn't like to talk about for a very long time.

To be blunt, while I was in military service, I was sexually assaulted during an off-base party. I recently wrote about the experience in a previous article on this blog, so I won't bring up the details here. The end result of that trauma led me to suffer from deeper depression and what I now realize was PTSD.

The depression, and the resulting nightmares from the assault, got so bad that one day -- for reasons even I don't fully remember -- I walked into the dorm shower, turned on the water and simply sat there for who knows how long until someone found me. I don't recall much about what happened afterwards, other than finding myself in the psych ward at the base hospital in bed asleep. 

I was there three days for observation and after talking to several of the doctors about my depression -- I didn't mention the assault and never told anyone else until years later -- I was medically (honorably) discharged and sent home less than a month later. 

So now I was home again, and feeling more than a bit melancholy. All I ever wanted to do, or really prepared for, was military service. I excelled in JROTC in high school, but in terms of my studies, being an average C student isn't what one would call academic excellence. As such I knew my chances of getting a good job without going back to school were pretty much nonexistent.

Another thing that worried me was the idea of having another issue with depression, or that my social anxiety issues would be a huge problem again -- to this day I still have issues with being in large noisy crowds, or crowded stories for long periods of time.

 

I would later be diagnosed with CAPD, (possibly Hyperacusis) a sensory processing problem common with autistic people. To put it in simple terms, every sound I hear hits me at the same time and I have no way to really shut them out, or filter them to focus on conversations. The result is many people think I am deaf when they meet me, even though my actual hearing is perfectly fine. I began experiencing the onset of depression associated with social anxiety disorder brought on by the condition.

 

Add to that the PTSD nightmares I kept happening off and on as a result of the assault, and I was pretty messed up for awhile there. I found myself in a deep state of disappointment and self-pity by the time I returned home in May of 1997. I was feeling what I can only describe as a sense of "soul-sickness". 

 

So I simply decided for a time to do nothing and try to work out my problems on my own -- I know now that wasn't the best idea, but at the time I felt like I could do nothing better. My family knew I needed time to sort things out and were very supportive, though they encouraged me to try to find something worthwhile to do with my time.

So it was now the summer of 1997, and I was again playing video games (and by now I could get that little plumber all the way to the last castle and rescue the princess without getting killed -- and without using any of those shortcut warps either!) and watching cartoon shows, including, of course, Hey Arnold!  

It was during the summer of that year between jobs that I watched the first full season of Hey Arnold! on Nickelodeon and found myself intrigued by the stories and the development of the characters as the next seasons soon arrived. By then I was hooked. I found myself recording episodes when I was at work and then watching them when I found the time.

By this time I was able to land another job as a 3rd shift security guard. I would record the episodes on VHS and rewatch them along with other favorite shows and cartoons I enjoyed about that time. I focused on the story lines in each episode, particularly those involving Arnold and Helga's somewhat humorous relationship with each other and how they played out. During my less busy times as a security guard -- and believe me there were plenty -- every now and again I would take a notebook and pen and write down ideas and short story ideas (early attempts at fanfiction writing, I suppose).  

Now, I have always been fond of writing short stories, though I never thought of myself as all that good at them. 

One of my first attempts as writing fanfiction was when I was about 14, or so, sometime in 1990-91. At the time I was completely obsessed with two things -- Tim Burton's Batman (1989) and the early seasons of The Simpsons. I remember seeing a T-shirt that had Bart Simpson in a purple cowl and cape posing as Bartman. It inspired a short story where Bart as Bartman stops a couple of bullies from beating a kid up in the boys bathroom as school and then disappearing. 

Sadly I didn't write much more beyond that, but did have an idea for the story where Lisa would be the only person who could put two-and-two together and figure out her brother was the mysterious Bartman (not a shocker given the rest of Springfield's denizens). Sideshow Bob, Bart's arch nemesis, would somehow become the new school principal and have thugs take over school security. Bartman would battle his nemesis along with Lisa as a Robin-type sidekick which I never got around to naming.

But by then teenage indecisiveness and boredom made me abandon the project. Oh well.

That and my writing skills were hampered in no small part by a form of literary dyslexia that troubled me through my school years -- and which many of the readers of this blog might encounter in my articles from time to time despite years of practice. I can only describe it as being "word-blind" at times. Just another joy that comes with being on the spectrum, but something I've also struggled over the years to overcome.

Now fast-forward to the summer of 2002 when Hey Arnold! The Movie arrived in theaters. In looking at message boards to get other reactions from fans, I came across fanfiction stories. I read many stories, a good many of them by people who could be very good writers in their own right. Raw talent to be sure, but there were plenty of gems there. I was inspired to write my very first fanfiction story after reading several online.

So at the age of 25, I became an official published fanfiction writer. The story, a parody of the Star Wars prequels, written under the screenname DarthRoden76 (inspired by a deleted scene in the Kevin Smith film Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back) was....uh, well received for a first draft work that I confess I barely proof read. To this day I still cringe when I think of all the spelling and punctuation errors I found in them, and which several other writers are all to happy to point out. All the same the work was met with approval from other fans and I appreciated the feedback and was all too happy to provide the same for their work as well.

The feedback they gave me actually helped me to further my writing skills and work through the word blindness slowly and carefully.

It would actually be my second fanfiction story, Arnold's Couch Confessions, that would receive the most praise from the HA! fanfiction community. Basically it is a retelling of Helga On The Couch with Arnold visiting the same psychologist and telling his point of view of Helga. Written in about ten chapters spaced out over a week apart between August and early October of 2002 on the Nick.com message board, each chapter was highly anticipated by the fanbase that I was growing. 

I will never forget one fan in particular. He told me that he was reading the chapters to his sister, Lori, who was sick at the time, and that she enjoyed what I wrote. I thought about it and in the next chapter, I added her name into the story in a scene where Dr. Bliss tells Arnold about her favorite doll, Lori, which she kept. I got a message from that fan telling me his sister was overjoyed that I included her in the story and it went a long way to making her fell better. 

Knowing that what I wrote helped a sick child recover her spirits is something that made me feel really good at a time when I was still regaining my own sense of self-worth. 

After a time, and writing several more stories, I found that the love and support I got from fans while writing these small stories helped me to slowly, gradually overcome my PTSD and anxieties. The outstanding fans in the Hey Arnold! fan community served as my support group. They are among the most loyal and dedicated group of young people and former 90s kids and teens like myself, and one of the most supportive fandoms I have ever encountered. I'm still proud to call myself one of them, and always will be.

That's the story of how a brilliantly written 90s cult classic cartoon and its amazing fans helped save my life.

Conclusion

Today, I am in the really slow process of writing my first full-length science fiction novel. I don't know if what I write will get published, or not, but I do know that I would never have made the effort to try if not for the fact I was encouraged to keep moving forward by the fans of Hey Arnold! and by the outstanding people who worked on the show, provided voices for the characters, and who brought to life and fired up my imagination at a time when I felt at my lowest.

25 years after it first premiered, Hey Arnold! continues to inspire both young people and adults alike. I don't know if the fans will be able to inspire Nickelodeon to continue the series, or reboot it, in the future; but I do know that if the series taught us anything it was never to give up hope.

Well, I hope y'all enjoyed this story, please let me know what y'all think in the comments section below. Until next time have a wonderful Dixie day and y'all come back now, ya hear!