That One Time I Was Possessed

Before you read this post, I want you to know that I am a good person.
I promise this is the one and only time I ever tortured anyone purposefully. Unless you ask my cousin Lindsey, who claims we locked her in a car seat when we were tiny babes.
Whatever she says, IT DIDN’T HAPPEN.

So enjoy the post, and please don’t call the po-pos.

My friend Martha and I had just gone out to eat, and we needed to stop by her dorm to drop off left-overs before heading out to play zombie tag.

Yes, zombie tag. I judged it too before I played it, only now, not only is it super amazing fantasmagorical fun, but guess who’s going to survive the zombie apocalypse?

Anyways, Martha and I had to stop by her dorm. In order to get there, I had to turn left into a half-circle drive. For this one, you need a map.

Now, I promise that I am a safe, respectable, stereotype-breaking driver. But this was not my best moment. The four glasses of sweet tea I’d had were coursing through my veins like adrenaline mixed with crack, and the steak I’d eaten made me feel like an elderly llamaraptor: tired yet rabidly carnivorous.

So as I turned into the drive, I noticed a young man standing on the curb. Though my car was aimed no where towards him (red arrow), he saw my car hurtling straight for him (blue arrow). He took a step back and panic flooded his face.

What – like he didn’t trust a girl enough to not hit him?!

We locked eyes, and in the next millisecond, I was possessed by a demon.

The next thing I know, I’m overcome by the urge to scare the poop out of this guy.  Half of me screamed out that he was judging me for being a female driver. The other half, the possessed half, just really wanted to torture him. I swung my car so that I curbed it right in front of him, and he jumped ten feet in the air, even though he’d stepped back enough that I was already far from even grazing him.

From his new spot, we locked eyes again. I grinned devilishly. He looked exactly like a deer in the headlights, and I found myself laughing maniacally that the expression was coming to life before me.

I put the car in park and slowly became aware that Martha was staring at me anxiously from the passenger’s seat. Her eyes held a mixture of concern for me and for her own safety.

We stared at each other for a moment, silently.

“You could have gotten ten points, but I’ll give you five for trying.” she said.

It was too much. I burst out laughing, and she must have been possessed too, because she laughed harder than I did. It’s a wonder I didn’t ruin my leather seats after four glasses of sweet tea.