Who is the Scariest person you've ever met? A former client. Not big enough to be truly scary but some day….
He did enough damage as it was. Beat two staff literally half to death. Broke another one's nose for asking him to not pull their hair. So many concussions. Thousands of dollars in damages to both company property and staff's: televisions, windows, doors, gaming systems, windshields, glasses, phones, teeth, bones… Literally every escalation every single day ended up being an attempted murder. We could, on a good day, expect 2-4 or them per shift. Sometimes lasting hours.
They got mad at us if we called the police to help us. They didn't want him to "look bad" in the community. We weren't officially forbidden from personally pressing charges but it was not encouraged. Everyone did everything to make sure he never faced any consequences. For the two staff he pulverized, he had to draw a picture to say he was sorry (he was almost 14). He finished the picture, looked the staff with him in the eye and said, "I'm not sorry. I'm glad I did it. I wish I'd hurt them worse. I wish I'd killed them."
It was my job to work with him. When he wasn't in a rage, he had his decent moments. In one calm conversation, we were playing Legos or something, I asked him if he'd like to talk about some ways to avoid hurting people when he gets angry.
The kid looks me dead in the eye and said, "no. I don't want to stop hurting people. I like hurting people."
I asked him why.
He shrugged, "I just like it. It's fun." I believed him. drunk tank. Guy with tattoos all over his face approaches me. I think I'm for sure getting raped. Nope, he wanted to offer me his roll of toilet paper for a pillow. He introduced himself as the "Sac City Psycho". He told me he would watch over me to make sure nobody fucked with me, cause he could tell I did not have much experience in jail. Now looking back on it, I guess for a few hours there, I was his bitch.
Super nice guy tho, 10/10 would be his bitch again. My neighbor when I was a kid. Jack. Not a big guy, not scary looking at all, really a sweet man. But as I learned from my father who was a great pal of his - Jack was a master marine Sargent who was on Guadalcanal for the full first 6 months (see: The Pacific. That was Jacks division). He was also in on the Saipan and countless other Marshal islands invasions.
He took me fishing once when I was 12 and wanted to make sure I didn't get my ideas about wars from John Wayne fake movies and told me the real shit. e. g. Sleeping with a knife and a .45 in hand because the Japanese raided every night and finding your rifle in the dark took too long. Especially when it was pouring rain. Of knowing a bonzai charge was coming because you could smell the opium they were smoking for courage come drifting over the rise. Or what it felt like to kill a man by bashing him with a helmet. It worked. Scared the BeJesus out of me. I knew jack my whole life and he was my godfather. Nicest sweetest man ever but woe to anyone who fucked with jack. One time I was at an outdoor bar area with my friends getting a drink. I'm at the bar, it's pretty crowded. Dude comes up beside me and isn't really looking to get a drink, he's just kinda looking at me really intensely. Really big guy, probably 6'3" 220+ of just muscle (I'm like 6' and maybe 160). And he nonchalantly starts talking about how his favorite thing on a night out is to just punch an absolutely random person and see their lights go out, laying on the floor. He says he does it when he's coked out, which he insinuated he was. Just goes on and on about the thrill he gets from knocking someone out who he doesn't even know. The things he said were probably more graphic and violent than I remember. I was like what the fuck I need to get the fuck out of here.
Not sure how the conversation turned, but he mentioned he was out on the town because he went through a breakup. He said, "Are you my bro?" I was like, "yeah man sure, we're buds." Got my drink and said something like, "cheers, to all the fish in the sea" or some shit. Got back to my friends and kept that guy in the corner of my eye all night long.
Smokin-Okie
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10y ago
It would definitely have to be my uncle. I lived with my grandma and every few months he'd stop by and crash on the couch. He was one of those cool uncles that always had weed and looked like a character from Sons of Anarchy.
One time he stopped by and I smoked a joint with him on the back porch, he just went off with this long and detailed confession about killing someone. For probably close to 20 minutes he told me how back in the 80s he and some friends purposely gave a woman that snitched on them uncut dope. It was disturbing, he even talked about getting mad because she shit on the floor as she was dying. A few weeks later I found out he was dying of colon cancer. I guess he just wanted to confess to someone, I don't know why he picked me of all people. I wish he hadn't. There was a guy in my highschool who was scary. He was held back a year in high school, well more like he was in jail for a year for beating someone up badly. Anyway, I had a couple classes with him and he was one of those guys who felt zero remorse and did not care or think about consequences. He dated my friends sisters friend, and they had a falling out. He killed her. First bashed her head in with a rock, and when that didn't kill her, stabbed her until she finally stopped breathing. This was over 20 years ago and I can still remember the blank look in his eyes when he talked to you. He's getting out of jail soon.
A friend's great grandmother just sat on his porch with a scowl on her face, wrapped up in a shawl, sitting in a rocking chair, chewing tobacco.
And she was scary as hell.
I'd never heard her say a word.
One day, his uncle comes driving up, gets out of the car, and he's white as a ghost, shaking, and sweating. Of course, they asked what the hell was wrong.
He tells us, "I was at the top of the hill just down the road, and right as I crested the hill, there's a semi in each lane, coming right at me. I had no choice, I just drove right into the ditch, but I managed to maintain control and get back on the road. Scared me to death."
We're all comforting him, exclaiming, asking for more details, etc.
Just then great-grandma leans forward a bit, spits off the edge of the porch, and says, "That's the difference between you and me. I'd a hit that sonofabitch head on." Met a Vietnam Vet on a camping trip named "Lube", no shit. He looked like a poster child for the navy sailor. Just a broad mustached dude, he was built like the bulldog from Tom and Jerry, just a huge guy. Also one of the nicest guys i ever met. I asked him for tips as he was making Char and he showed me how to properly sharpen a knife. Eventually he started telling stories and people asked what he did to get so big. he says "Every Morning when i wake up i roll onto the floor and do 1000 push-ups then i flip over and do a thousand sit-ups. whoa Then i notice this piece of beef jerky looking stuff hanging from some twine around his neck, so i asked what it was. He kinda laughed and then said" Well when i came back from 'Nam i was pretty messed up, I ended up slicing off the meat off the front of my shin and then jerkying (sp?) it" he then rolls up his pant leg to show us this huge scar on his shin, much bigger than the piece on his necklace. So I said, "Thats a lot bigger than the piece around your neck."
"Yeah", he chuckled again, "I've been chewing on it."
This was in like 1999, and i thought surely this guy is just telling stories, so i asked another guy i knew who served with him, nope. THose stories are true. This badass sliced his own leg meat off, jerkied it and hung it around his neck, AND THE FUCKER WOULD CHEW ON IT.
I was still pretty skeptical, i mean sure he's HUGE and Mean looking, but he's so nice. Sure enough the next morning i see him literally roll out of his hammock land on his chest and start pounding out pushups.
Maybe not your typical scary, but for damn sure someone i want to really like me. I have other stories about him if you're interested. I was waiting in the general lobby of the emergency room waiting for my wife (gf at the time). She was taken to a separate room where she could get scanned for some abdominal pains. Anyways, there was an older gentleman mid 40s sit right next to me and starts a conversation with me. I didn't pay too much mind to it, keeping it to small talk.
Well this guy goes on to tell me that's he comes in to 'commit' himself and that he's required to do it at least once a month. I was like, 'oh yeah sure' not in a rude way but enough to make it believable that I'm intrigued. He goes on about other stuff. What's he's done in the past years. Etc.
5 hours go by and I haven't heard from the gf. I get noticeably worried and he notices. States that he can take me to her. I said that it's nothing to worry about and that I'm expecting a call any minute from her. But he insisted. Literally gets up walks pass the security guards and nurses. They don't say anything to him. In fact they have a chitchat and talk as if they are best friends on first name basis. In the end they give him and I the "OK" to go see my gf. He led me thru the labyrinth of hallways and directly to her without getting lost. Like he's been there before. I chat with my gf got an update from her then went back to the lobby.
as I sat down the guy goes on about what he and his bro use to do when they were little. Stupid kids things blah blah blah. Then the incident with the kitten. That's when my focus shifted. He said that he put a kitten in the microwave and turned it on. And recalls the noises the poor animal made in its last moments. (I'll spare other details) My eyes came up to meet his. A man who I just met a few hours ago and all I could feel was hatred towards him now. His eyes were just hollow, hard to describe yet piercing. He said something that I'll never forget. "I got your attention now boy". Didn't even crack a smile. I knew a boy in middle school. Sweet as can be, hilarious, completely dorky and goofy in all the best ways. His life was pretty sad- his dad had died when he was little, and then his mom died the summer before we started seventh grade. He never acted down, though.
His situation wasn't common knowledge, so one day, these girls were making fun of him- as girls do- and one decided to insult his mother.
Instantly, he went silent. Completely silent. Mind you, this kid had never been silent in his life, but he was silent now.
The girls, sensing weakness, continued on that path and increased the insults. Before I could jump in or say anything, the boy lurched to his feet- and the look in his eyes... I legitimately thought he was going to hurt them. I grabbed his arm and held him back, and he didn't resist, just stood there clenching his fists. The girls sensed that they had gone too far and left. He watched them go before turning and looking at me. He didn't say anything, but there was still bloodlust in his eyes. I let go of him.
As he walked away, I noticed that there was blood dripping on the ground from his fist. As he walked, he finally unclenched them, and there were these huge gashes on his palms- he had clenched his fists so hard that he had cut open his own skin.
And that, children, is the day I became very, very afraid of my friend. A friend right now actually. He's only 19 but there's seriously something dark about him. One time we were in a parking lot with some of his friends and this jerk yells at us from across the lot, just being a D-bag. I ignore him, whatever. But my friend gave him this look. I don't know how to explain it, it was like death incarnate, like whatever thoughts he had became physical. I was seriously afraid. It wasn't just an "angry" look, it was literally murderous. Not too long after he looked at me, in rapey sort of way. It was like he looked through me. Boy, I felt weird. Thing is, I can now recognize that particular look. Not too long after that incident I was watching a TV documentary about Chinese kids addicted to the internet being put in special camps. At one point a boy is told to talk with his father about his feelings. Anyway, the boy gave him the exact same look as my friend did. I told my mom "he wants to kill him". Sure enough, not a few moments later he gets up and almost strangles his dad before people pull him off. My mom was shocked. I've seen actors try to pull it off. Nope, it cannot be replicated.
Anyway, there's just something about my friend. He seems normal around other people and stuff, but if I try to talk to him 1 on 1 after he's been quiet for a bit...I just don't know, I try avoid looking him in the eyes. It's just creepy. I get a feeling, like there's a pressure in my stomach/chest just warning me to run. Knew a guy, 5'8" or so. Always dressed like an old school librarian. Quiet guy. Friendly. We were having drinks after work and some 6'2" Neanderthal was getting rough with some girl outside the bar. The Neanderthal had 4 similarly caveman like friends with him.
I am a fairly big guy and I stepped in and said "Mate, how about you step back and leave the lady alone".
This gorilla turned on me and punched me in the face before I knew what was happening and I am on my ass".
All 5 five of them move towards me when my friend stepped in and ... Absofuckinglutely obliterated all 5 in about 30 seconds. There was no fancy flying kicks or such. His fighting style was the most brutally understated thing I have ever seen. It was efficient, it was cold and these guys got hurt bad.
Turns out he was like 8th generation military from some Afrikaan family that took their whole soldier thing terribly serious and had spent a dozen years in some South African recon commando special forces para fucking sniper unit. Before that he reckoned his military service actually started when he was four as the whole extended family was run like some military training camp.
He bailed from South Africa and moved to Australia and became an accountant.
My mom.
She told me stories about herself when I was growing up, but I always assumed they were all talk. You know, like she was pulling my leg. But the stories never changed and, as I got older, I realized that they stayed pretty consistent. So I asked family members for confirmation and they basically shrugged and said, "Yeah, that sounds about right." My half-brother was watching a movie and mentioned that he wondered what it felt like to stab somebody. My mom nonchalantly said it wasn't that great. It turns out that she once stabbed a man at a party because he got on her nerves and she had a knife in her boot. But it was "only his leg," so it wasn't "that bad."
She robbed a guy who robbed her at gunpoint, at gunpoint. Seriously. Dude showed up at her job with a pistol and took all the money in the register, so she chased him to the next town over, found him at a pool hall, and held him at gunpoint until he gave the money back.
She has connections to people that I'm not allowed to know the names of. Like, people she considered (considers?) like brothers. Who happen to buy new cars after hunting accidents happen.
She once physically destroyed somebody for just mentioning they thought they could take her in a fight. She didn't have any animosity, said she had nothing against the girl. She just heard her talking shit and proceeded to calmly meet her out in a parking lot before she proceeded to snap her arm and crush every bone in her hands. It took three men to pull her off of the chick.
She did the same thing to a woman who tried to hit my grandmother with a rock from her flower bed. She knocked the woman off of her feet and beat her head into the brick path leading to the garden until her front teeth came out. Then sent her home and dared her to call the police.
In my hometown, I've seen her intimidate her way out of tickets. She wouldn't even say anything threatening. She'd do what they asked, but they'd always just apologize and send her on her way.
Her ex-husband? He once stole her car. She decided that was unacceptable, walked out to the bar he was at, hot wired it, and decided she was sick of his shit. He jumped in front of her while she was on her way out, expecting to stop her. She did stop. For a second. Then she gunned it.
When one of my exes started stalking me, she informed him matter-of-factly in the nicest voice I've ever heard that, if he didn't stop, they would never find his body because "it will be in pieces all over this county."
I actually witnessed her beat the ever-loving hell out of a guy when I was a kid. He made a passive threat at her, so she went after him with all the fury of a goddamn tornado.
She willed herself out of having seizures. I found it hard to believe until my aunt backed it up. She used to take medicine for it but it made her sick, so she stopped. When the doctor told her she'd just get worse without it, she calmly informed him that she was done having seizures. And she never had another one. I think that's the... creepiest thing I've heard about her.
You know, next to the multiple stories of all of her friends who died or were murdered, which makes it seem like she's the last one standing.
She's actually told me that she'd probably be a pretty bad mother if she didn't have a massive brain injury in her early twenties (she has a dent in her head where her skull is thinner in places from the surgery; it's weird). Everyone has told me she was quieter and meaner before and seemed kind of detached from things she did, but if you talk to her now, she's the happy, buoyant, and extremely friendly lady. It was like a complete personality shift. She has her moments, but she talks about her previous exploits in a way that's so chipper and surreal.
By far, one of the potentially scariest people I know. Fascinating to talk to, a wonderful parent, and she fucking knows how to make a daughter feel safe, but I'll be damned if she isn't terrifying once something presses the wrong button.
I mean, she almost drove two hours away to find a former co-worker because he threatened me via text. And I, uh, don't tell her what one of my exes did because I don't want to visit her in prison. Late to the party, but might as well contribute. Forewarning, this is gonna be a long one and will most likely have crude language. Throwaway for obvious reasons. Furthermore, I'm intentionally going to leave out some important details to prevent doxing.
The scariest person I have ever met is by far my father. I'll be honest about it, he has a violent personality (never towards the family though). Somewhat brutish, yet still calm enough in the terrifying kinda way. To be blunt, the kind of guy that would enjoy getting back at someone who fucked with him. Some background info to start, as it provides some critical detail. He is pretty average on the outside, being at 6'0" and 180lbs* with a semi-muscular build. His only unique features are a lightly-trimmed mustache and dozens of scars (most because of his line of work, others due to his past). He is pretty much the embodiment of a middle-class blue-collar worker; he likes to drink almost as much as he likes to barbeque, has no formal higher-education but no doubt savvy, street-smart, old-school democrat/liberal (strongest supporter of unions I know), likes to talk about how "it used to be". Without going into too much detail, he grew up as your typical 60's suburban child turned rebel by the 70's. He has the eye-for-an-eye type of mentality, often telling us as kids that "If anyone hurts my family, the least of their concern is the police". The most important thing to note is that he has a dark past (by his choosing, mind you). There is a period of 6-8 years in his twenties which he refuses to discuss in general (most you can get out of him is about the different types of places he got to visit). From overhearing chats he has had with his old buddies, the best I can piece together is that he was involved with organized crime (racketeering, extortion, etc.).
Onto the actual story (I warned you this was going to be long): I got a frantic call from my mother at 12:30AM one early morning. I was in a hotel 3 states away (this is in the west U.S., so that is easily 1200+ miles) at the time for a school conference, and had heavily partied the night before. So as I was coming back from being dead, my mother was stumbling over her own words. "Your sister... oh god your sister, I need you now Anon...". She must of cast some necromancy shit because that woke me right the fuck up. I was able to calm her down enough to get the gist of it: my little 16yro sister had snuck into a frat-party (at the college I was attending, by the way) and been seriously hurt by some guys. By this time, my mother was now trying to calm me down as my big brotherly-instincts had kicked in. I was in bed with my best friend's sister (sorry, dude), so she knew of my family and also how rare it is for me to get upset. She was awake by this point and was listening in, and after seeing my temperament she started packing my stuff and making coffee for me, as both me and her knew I had a long drive ahead. My mom had to hang up the phone because the doctor came to talk to her, so it gave me some time to make arrangements for her (my friend's sister) to get back home after the conference (as we carpooled). So here I am at 12:50AM completely livid, probably still wasted enough to get a DUI, going 100mph in an 80, while also talking to my mom on the phone (still amazed how lucky I was not to get pulled over).
I was able to get the full story now, and it absolutely brought me to tears (and pains me to write to this day). My sister and her friend told my parents they were going to a movie but instead went to a frat party. Once there, my sister hooked up with a fratboy. He tried to get her drunk, but she refused to drink more than she could handle. This made him mad so he brought in 2 of his friends to try and peer-pressure her. She didn't budge, so he asked her to leave and him and his friends walked her out to her car (her friend decided to stay without a way home). Yet once there, he cupped her mouth and started to drag her over to some bushes. His friends also joined in and started to hold her down and strip her. Her being as strong-willed as she is resisted with all her might ended up biting the main fratboy's hand all-up. He let go and she screamed (at least she says she did, as no one at the party nor nearby heard it), which alerted them enough to knock her out. Out of respect for her, the details stop there. Yet the end result was multiple muscle tears, major bruising, fractures (we assume they beat her after they were done), head trauma, and numerous scratches/scrapes. TL;DR: She hurt, I mad.
Throughout this entire conversation with my mother I was too focused/worried and forgot once crucial thing: "Mom... where is dad?". "Anon, don't worry about your dad. You know what he is doing". Then it hit me, "Mom, what about the police? Have they talked to you guys yet?". "We refused to talk to them". Now, that part probably shocks a lot of you, but that is my family for you. The reason for this is they were protecting my dad. We have always avoided the police due to my dad's past, and now that my dad is actively committing a crime we had no intention of speaking up for now. Now, in-case you didn't assume what my dad was doing, he was hunting fratboys. I tried calling my dad multiple times, yet he never answered, so I assumed the worst (that he is now a murderer). I'm going to skip ahead till when I get into town, as not much new happens besides the police doing their own investigation (without our help).
So it is now 3PM that day I am just made it into town. First thing I did was visit my sister, and she wasn't as bad as I feared so I started to try to find my dad. I met a friend of mine who is in another frat at the college, and it seemed word got around fast. Practically everyone knew at this point that a girl got attacked at a party the night before, so it was easy to get the rumors. Evidently, the 3 fratboys were caught leaving the scene by party-goers, and now the police are looking for them. Soon after hearing this I got the dreaded call I was expecting. It was my dad.
He sounded like I never heard him before (like a mix between serious and eccentric), and it was absolutely bone-chilling. Then what I heard next made me nearly go into shock: gagged screams in the background. My dad asked me something I will never forget, "Anon, do you want to help me?". I'll be honest, there was a part of me that would of jumped on that opportunity. Yet I decided against it, and what I told him seemed to oddly shock him out of a trance, "Dad, I have a future ahead of me. I can't get involved in this. And for the sake of SisAnon and Mom, don't ruin your own life over this". My dad actually laughed at this (don't know how anyone could), then told me to go home and get his "box" and bring it to an old friend he still worked with. Now, growing up, the only thing my dad really kept private was this box. I always assumed it was most likely a gun or backup money as it was locked by a code (later I learned my mom didn't know what it was either). Feeling obliged to at least do this for my dad, I went and did what he said. Now, what has happened up to this point may shock some people, but considering what happened I already expected him to have (literally) killed the fratboys. This next part is what shocked me.
So I bring my dad's locked box to his friend (who is only in his underwear at home, fyi) and he calls my dad. He tells me to stand by the door (so I can't see the box) then opens the box (with my dad on the line). It sounded like he was going through papers then he mumbled my dad a phone number (at least it sounded like it). Then he hung-up, closed the box, gave it to me, and told me to go put it away then see my mom and sister. I did as he said, and god-damned when I walked into the hospital room my dad is next to my sister. He acts like nothing happened at all and just gives me brief smile. To this day, he still plays ignorant about it all anytime I bring it up.
The police found the fratboys tied up and severely beaten that night thanks to an anonymous call. This call couldn't of been from my dad, because I was with my family the whole night. The fratboys got charged heavily and were found guilty. Now, the reason this terrifies me so much is because I don't know what happened between them and my dad. They never told the police about him, and the police never questioned my dad about the boys despite the circumstances. What was the phone number even for? How could my dad get away scot-free from all this with a single number (which is the key reason he is the scariest person I know, by the way)? How did he find the fratboys before the police? How did he restrain 3 college aged men to begin with? Did what I tell him earlier convince him not to kill the fratboys? I ponder this often, and like I said earlier, my dad does the whole nonchalant "I don't know what you are talking about" when I question him. Overall, the whole incident is a pretty taboo topic in my family though.
Despite all this, I still love him and we have a healthy relationship. I do look at him in a different light sometimes, but in the end he is still my same-old dad. My sister is doing great and is currently engaged to my best friend (yes, the one whose sister I was with the morning of the phone call). I on the other hand just spent two hours typing out one of our family's best kept secrets. So... life is good. I once went on a tour through San Quentin. For those of you who aren't aware, it's one of California's toughest correctional facilities housing the worst of the worst. While on the tour, the guide told us to stop and get close to the wall because they were transporting someone. Two guards were walking with an old white male prisoner, looked about 65. While he walked past us he grinned and waved to us, and his presence was just eerie. Even though he appeared to be harmless you just got the feeling that there is something terribly wrong with him, something subtle. When they passed, the tour guide said "creepyyyy... that guy is a serial killer."