Category: YSaC

I’m On The Fence

Once more I have ventured into my local CraigsList listings in search of the sucktastic and found something that, while not quite as spectacularly terrible as what you can find over on YSaC, is still pretty asshat-like behavior.


Free fence. Approx. 30+ fenceposts. Approx. 300′ ft. of 4ft. wire. 6×6 (sheep fence). You must remove and take all. Serious Inquiries only. Call Rob after 6:30pm weekdays. Anytime between 9am-9pm on wkds. Thanks.

So that doesn’t seem too bad. If you had a fence and were looking to replace it with something better and you could find someone who wanted your fence and would remove it without you having to do all that work, it would be a pretty fair trade.

Oh, wait – There’s pictures of the fence.

Is the fence behind that hedge?


Is that … honeysuckle?

Why yes, I do believe it is. And judging by the way the fence is leaning forward, it’s quite heavy.

I did a bit of Googling and a roll of 6 X 6 wire would run about $200 – $250, depending on where you bought it. Let’s say the fence posts  were worth about five dollars a piece, for another $150, making the total around four hundred dollars, brand new.

But this fence is not brand new and in fact has probably been out in that field for a while. There are no close-ups of the fence itself so there is no way to tell how badly it has rusted, or if there are any breaks in it. The seller doesn’t say what kind of fence posts they are,  they look to be just regular stock four by fours to me. It doesn’t look like they were cemented in or they wouldn’t be leaning forward like that, so there is probably some rot and insect damage to most (if not all) of them.

And there’s probably snakes and spiders and all sorts of distasteful things out there. Poison ivy, prickerbrush, poison oak. Chiggers and ticks, too. They just love the long grass. The pond in the background probably means clouds of mosquitoes as well. Given that the average temperature in my neck of the woods at this time of year is above a hundred with humidity to match, that could mean heatstroke, sunburn, and the like. All to get a “free” fence.


Having helped remove overgrown honeysuckle from a very sturdy chain-link fence, I can tell you that once it starts growing over something, it is very reluctant to let go of it. It would take hours to clear the fence before you even started removing the actual fence. It would take at least a day, possibly more. I think this idiot just doesn’t want to clean off his fence and is hoping he can con some other idiot into doing it for him.



I was cruising around my local CraigsList the other day, nosing through the free section to see what craptacular stuff people were getting rid of, when I found something … interesting.

I sent the ad in to my favoritest site of all, You Suck at CraigsList, but alas – it was not up to the standards of the site. I understand, I was a bit hesitant to send it since it wasn’t as bizarre as some of the site’s other offerings, but I thought it was a little odd. Since it’s not quite odd enough for YSaC, I thought I would post it here. Mostly because it’s late and I’m tired and don’t want to come up with something original.

Here’s what I found;

Free plants and containers

Three free white porcelain containers with hostas and monkey grass. We are moving, and these need to find a home. We re-used these containers, which once had another purpose in life.

That seems harmless enough, right? Oh, wait – there’s a photo.

They are toilet tanks.

While I commend them for their recycling efforts, I can’t help but wonder why they didn’t just come out and say “these are used toilet tanks. Please take them” in the ad. Toilet tanks are excellent choices for planters, being nice and deep for good roots and having a drainage hole already installed. It’s not like anything was done to make the planters’ origins.

I can’t help but wonder about what happened to the rest of the toilets.

Get thee behind me!

(Note: this story originally appeared in the comment section of YSaC Vol. 977 in response to an ad asking for someone to come to the poster’s house dressed as Satan to scare their child into behaving.)




He was here, the guy from CraigsList! Now all of Merle’s parenting troubles would be over. With a glance down the hall towards his son’s room, where a thick fog of cigarette smoke lingered and the the muted click of glass against glass was nearly drowned out by the flood of curses, he headed towards the front door. It was Junior’s poker night; Merle had seen him only minutes before in the kitchen, dressed in his SpongeBob pajamas, getting more ice out of the freezer.
Merle hurried to the door, hoping the bell hadn’t disturbed Junior. He didn’t want to get the belt again. Flinging open the door, he noticed that Junior had been practicing carving his intials into the wood again. Better that than when he had used their living room furniture to perfect his tagging techniques.
On the steps was a large lumpy shape, vaguely man-shaped and man-sized, that smelled strongly of garlic and soy sauce. It resembled uncooked bread dough and had been splashed generously with a thick, dark red liquid. A drop fell on Merle’s wrist and he absently licked it off.

Barbecue sauce.

“Hey, you Merle?”

Merle nodded.

“Finally! Do you know how many Deffenberks there are in this town? I’ve been getting all kinds of strange looks. Where can I plug in the smoke machine?”

Merle’s mouth, which had been working as frantically as a hairdresser on meth, finally produced words.

“What…You…But…But you’re suppose to be Satan!” The lumpy thing seemed to roll its eyes, but it could have been a couple of sesame seeds shifting position.

“Of course I’m seitan! That’s what you asked for, right?”

“Not seitan,” Merle hissed “I wanted Satan! Satan!”

“Geez, you don’t have to get upset. Look, I printed out the ad. It says “satan” right here.” From somewhere within the creases in the brown mass a hand produced a crumpled piece of paper, speckled with sauce.

“Yes! Satan! The devil! Old Scratch, the Prince of Lies, Mr. Mephistopheles! Not seitan!” Merle was trying to keep his voice low but he could not help twitching his arms about like a gaffed trout. The stranger studied the sauce-dampened paper for a moment.

“Oh. I just thought you misspelled seitan. No one spells anything right on CraigsList.” He paused. “Listen, since I’m here already and I built this suit, do you want me to try scaring the kid?”

“No! He regularly terrorizes biker gangs! Nuns weep blood when he passes them on the street! Every pet within a ten mile radius has run away! An animate lump of boiled wheat gluten isn’t going to scare him! Why would you think that?!?”

The drippy lump looked down at its shapeless shoes.

“I thought he might have celiac disease or something like that.”

In the market for adventure?

NOTE: This story first appears in YSaC Vol. 297 as a response to an ad asking for a creative writer.

“Burley, I don’t know about this…” Patch slowed his steps, scuffing his already worn soles, obviously reluctant. His friend slapped him roguishly on the shoulder.

“Awww, I remember my first time. Nervous as blind dentist and twice as twitchy. Afterwards, though! I was floating, man. Just floating. High on life for days. Well, life and copier toner. But don’t you worry; you’ll love it!” Burley slapped his shoulder again, propelling his thin frame through the door.

It was dark, so dark, with the dozens of candles burning in blood red votive cups that cluttered every flat surface doing little to dispel the gloom. Incense, thick and spicy-sweet, hung in the air like wet wallpaper. As his eyes adjusted Patch could make out vague forms in the darkness.

He didn’t know where to look; there was no safe place to rest his eyes. Everywhere he could see sinuous curves, a splash of startling color, the suggestion of hidden delights. There were others, dressed not too differently than he was, who sat among those beautiful shapes, conversing in low tones. A brief clap of throaty laughter sang out from some hidden alcove.

And then he saw her. She was tucked into a corner, alone, her attention resting on him in a way that reminded him of a pet cat he had once had. Predatory, but indulged enough to remain quiescent.

He felt Burley nudge his side.

“See anything you like?”

“Ummm.” Burley laughed; a greasy, oily sound. Patch briefly wondered why he was friends with so repulsive a man and how he had let himself get talked into this. His wife was going to kill him.

“Don’t just stand here staring, go talk to her!”

Grateful that the dim room hid his flaming cheeks, Patch stumbled over to one of the nebulous forms reclining in a corner. He stood there for a second, staring at his feet.

“Are you just going to stand there, honey?” The voice in the darkness was like molten gold, a rare vintage flavored with exotic spices and a hint of world-weary sadness. It caressed Patch in a way his wife refused to unless she had been drinking heavily.
“Have a seat, sugar. I don’t bite.”

He found a chair and sat, pressing his legs together and clasping his hands in his lap. His shoulders curved forward as he tried to make himself as small as possible. The voice chuckled, the sound a roller coaster of velvet and silk.

“Let me guess – this is your first time?” Wordlessly he nodded. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s easy. Why don’t you tell me what your looking for?”

“Well … I wanted something a little different, out of the ordinary. Exotic. But I don’t really have a lot of money. Burley, this guy I work with, he told me about this place and, well…” He trailed off. Abruptly he stood. “This was a mistake. If my wife knew I was here …”

“Relax, darling. You can bring your wife in if you like; I love couples. But no pets. I draw the line there.”

“N… no, we don’t have any pets.”

“Then why don’t you give her a call? I assume that bulge in your pocket is a phone.” Again he blushed, but pulled out his cell phone after a moment’s hesitation. He flipped it open, the screen’s harsh light throwing everything into stark relief. The sumptuous crimson and gold Persian carpet settled its paisley folds to better show her flowing patterns.

“And honey? Tell her to bring one of your window treatments. That way you can see if the carpet matches the drapes.”

List O’ Mystery

My love for YSaC is boundless and today’s ad is especially grand. I have decided to answer the questions for today’s post.You can see the original here, The original questions are in boldface.
1) What is the strangest paranormal experience you have encountered?

I have a haunted closet, it’s where I keep my spirits. And by “spirits”, I mean “booze”.

2) Why do you think people have premonitions?

They forget to rub strawberry cake frosting into their scalps before they  put on their protective tin foil beanies.

3) If you could go back in time, only once and never return to today, when and where would you go. Would you just standby and watch or try to deliberately alter the past? What would you alter?

I would go back to yesterday and take a really good nap. Maybe make some chili. I could really go for some chili right now and it’s always better the second day.

4) When did you realize you had a special gift and how did you, and others react to it?

Like a snowflake I was born special, with the certain knowledge of my specialness. This is why so many babysitters tried to set me on fire – they feared my awesome specialness.

5) How many hours a week do you spend at your craft?

It takes a while to sharpen your toothbrush into a servicable shank, so I’d say, fifty or so.

6) Do you have a day job? If so, what is it?

By day I’m a mild-mannered reported for the Daily Planet; by night I fight crime and grind on the pole at the Randy Moose Gentleman’s Club under the name Molli Mounds.

7) Other than the paranormal what are your interests?

I like to knit kittens out of dryer lint. Then I set them on fire. It amuses me.

8)Do you believe in God? If so, what is your notion of him/her/it/them?

I have God stored in a feezer in my basement. At least,  I think it’s God.

9) What was the last thing that made you laugh hysterically?

My bank statement. It was followed by the hysterical weeping and the binge drinking. Then came the drunken weeping. I don’t remember what happened next, I think I blacked out.

10) What do you hope to get out of that experience?

Well, I’m not sure what I had hoped to get out of it, but what I did get was a thumping hangover and a restraining order from Cici’s Pizza. “All-you-can-eat” my freckled ass.

11) Are you going to be in the experiment?

That depends – will there be any experimental drugs? I’m getting tired of breaking into the janitor’s closet to drink cleaning chemicals.

12) Ever appear in a documentary of television/film before? If so, what was it?

I was on the third season of  Cops, you can see me threatening a man with a baseball bat in the eighth episode. I’m the one in the blue leopard-print tube top who gets her weave stolen.

13) Who is your favorite film actor/writer/director?

Oh, I don’t think you’ve heard of them. He is  so obscure he has  never even directed, written, or starred in a film before. He does make nice sandwiches though.

14) Favorite genre?

SpongeBob SquarePants-themed hentai.

15) What do you love?

I love everyone and everything. I am fucking Jesus.

16) What drives you crazy/pet peeves?

So very many things. Like the air. Fucking air, always pressing against me, invading my lungs. Fucking air, man. What a prick.

17) Any odd traits or not so secret quirks?

*See Chapters 3-28 , Psychopathia Sexualis.

18) Name three hobbies you have now, or have had in the past?

Overthrowing governments for shits and giggles.

Braiding my back hair.

Collecting shiny things.

19) Any special talents?

I can summon the dread Demon Bonandoniae, He Who Brings Pestilence and Festive Marshmallows.

20) Where do you see your life taking you in the next 5 years?

A hot tub filled with Godiva chocolate and moderately priced Thai lady-boys in a place I call Ghostopia.

21) What is your favorite phrase or term?

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

22) Do you have a motto? If so, what is it?

“Never eat anything bigger than your head.”

23) What are 5 single words you would use to describe yourself?






24) Are you married/dating/single? (elaborate based on response)

Are you looking to join the stable? I’m accepting applications ’round front.

25) What is your living situation?

I’m a zomb…

26) What do you think of the President?

I think he looks like a California Raisin.

27) Do you identify with a political party/social movement/cause or set of ideals? If so, what and why? And for how long?

I like the Communists, mostly because the Smurfs are Communists. I’m always up for a party, as long as I get to be on bottom. For as long as it takes.