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Scare Craft

Jimway

Jimway

Well-known member
Thought I might share another story. Got a million of em tryin to get out of my head. Now some of the names of the characters has been changed to protect the guilty and cast doubt on the innocent. A certain buddy of ours has been quite put out by commin up short in a little boat race that was held recently. A certain other party to the matchup is been generally content with the outcome of the race. Since the buddy has been real hard on me in the past, I thought that maybe I should kick him when he is down, but just a little. Seein as how Halloween is almost upon us, I figured a good scare might cement his hatred toward me. Now I also been noticin that the Shark don't seem to let hisself get caught in the clutches of darkness. So I been thinkin that a little batch of Scare handed out with just the right amount of darkness present might just produce some interestin outcome. I got a little help and direction from a group of guys that live up by Sharks hometown. They drink, smoke, spit, lie, steal, defame, deface, fight, and don't bath nearly enough. 'Bout thier only bad habit is the cheatin at the poker games we have, but that is another story. I call em the Rat Pack.
I guess I better warn you guys that iffen ya hear of a Bigfoot sighting in the Pacific Northwest in the next few days then you can dissregard it and smile while your neighbors might be talkin about it.
I've been wanting to get a look at Sharks Mom's place cause the Shark does some work on his machines up there. Big barn up there, located a ways from the farmhouse. I'm thinkin that the barn would be just about the right location to let out some scare into the open air. Also, when me and Fast Eddie made some fast and real low passes through the barnyard, in Fast Eddies firebreathing little airplane, not too long ago, I spyed some other cool lookin stuff through the open barndoors. I hear most of the barnyard animals that didn't keel over are still walkin around lookin up at the sky, heh heh....
 
So anyhoo, last poker night, up in Sharkville, someone had somehow slipped a marked deck into play and since I had brung some eye glasses with me, I was able to make out the marked cards right away. Game was going rather well for me, but there was some unhappy comments commin from some of the others at the table. They kind of like a good story and we was goin over the boat race, and I was embellishing it up just right. There was some small amount of liquid refreshment that was goin down cruel easy. I brought up the thought of a little scare technique and the Rat Pack fell right in with the idea and seemed impressed with my plan and observations that I had noted. I should have known better but when I seen this real lifelike Bigfoot costume get up that got produced from the attic of the shop, I just knew that I had to have it to scare the Shark. I probably shouldn't call it a costume cause it looks so real, right down to these fur covered boots that has these rubber feet attached. I think, and my nose tended to agree, that the skins had come from some dead bears, skunks, a wolverine, and a coupla of beavers. Either that or it had been a real bigfoot that had molted or somethin. Someone had made a form that fits on your head out of cardboard, fiberglass, duct tape, and some other residue. I knew it smelt bad cause while I was bein suited up in it, the first layer of skin peeled right off my eyeballs. I was surprised at how fast and what team players the Rat Pack was while they was suitin me up. Seemed like they had lots of practice as I thought about it later. With the wood blocks on the boots and the helmit like extention on your head and the extentions on the arms, you got to be close to 8 feet tall. The members of the Rat Pack had seen fit to mount red lights for eyes and a voicebox that lets out this blood curtling long moaning wail that would reduce most people to a puddle of bad smellin stuff, while they was standin in a lighted room. I figured that out in the dark the reaction to these effects would be worth noteing and later discussion. The insulation quality of the suit was astounding and my on board temperature gauge in my mind was already registering between the Mohave Desert and a medium blaze inside the suit. We all clambered aboard the flatbed truck and headed out to the Sharks Moms place by way of a back road that comes up parallel to the side of the property. Now out in the woods, it gets real dark at night. It's enough to frighten even grown men that's tougher n nails and such. Years of experience tryin to find my way back to camp at night has hardened me to the pitch blackness, sounds, and giant furry creatures that scurry about at night and try ta bite and slash ya to pieces, so I jumped off the back of the truck and headed off toward the dim light of the Sharks Moms barn up on the rise. The boys said later that I moved real quiet and fast in the get up and it gave em chills just to watch me dissappear into the inky blackness of an overcast, moonless, night....
 
That dogs gonna eat your azz up. lol Don't get your self shot up there in them woods! I hear the banjo playing in this story.
 
One of the reasons I was moving silent was all of the previous mentioned experience at navigatin the woods at night, no sense at stirrin up a pack of wolves, a den chock full of grizzlys, or even a real Bigfoot. The speed with which I was running, which I would call a lope, comes in real handy if you run into a giant furry set of teeth and claws that's tryin to bite and slash you. You can easily accelerate to full throttle at even the sound of a twig bein snapped by a woodland beast. The other reason for a stealth type of approach was to get the full effect of lettin out some scare in the presence of the Shark. As I was gettin close to the backside of the barn, which is not that difficult to hit, so don't let your huntin buddys tell ya that your shootin skills are that poor, I noticed that the back door was open, so I walked right in. Now I was feelin pretty pleased with myself and expecting to see quite a spectacle. The barn is pretty good sized. Made out of old growth timber and built to withstand pretty much anything. On the end toward the farmhouse, There is a section that is set up for workin on ve-hicles. I got to tell you that I was envious right away. Lots of tool boxes, welders, jacks, and a lift too. There was a lot of evidence left behind by a lumberjack, like chainsaws from the 1800's and axes and all kinds of cool stuff. Being kind of a car nut, which is real different from bein a plain nut, I seen this 29 roadster sittin in the corner. Couldn't be none other than the Streamliner I've been hearin about. The look, taste, and smell of speed was dripping off of it while it was just sittin there in the dim light. I noticed it winked at me and smiled all coy like. I was all caught up in lookin at the Streamliner that I didn't hear the Shark and the Cadaver until they came through the front barndoor that was open part way. " Smells like thar might be a bahr about " says Shark. " Yup " says the Cadaver. " Careful Ace " says Shark," I thank I's detectin some Skunk about too "....
 
Now I got to stop here for a few moments and tell you about that sweet little roadster. She was made up in a coupla different shades of hot rod primer, mostly grey. She has had considerable work done to her and probably is made up of several different auto-mobiles. I got to hand it to the Shark on this one cause the Streamliner is one bad lookin roadster. Its been lengthened to cover some kind of V-12 engine that is nestled under the cowl. Body has been lowered onto the frame. Body has been modified to seat the driver in the center of the interior under a small roll bar. Open interior is covered by bodywork for streamline effect. I'm guessin that when the SharkPilot is sittin in the car, only the top part of his helmit is showin. It's like all of what's left of the body has been shrunk around the motor, transmission, driver, and rear axle. It has four wheels without fenders, bigger ones in back, small skinny ones in front. They look like Halibrand Center Knock Off racing wheels with high speed tires. Sticking out the front of the radiater, way down low, is a big supercharger that must be driven off the front of the crankshaft, airscoop on one end, plumbing pipes on the other end runnin back toward the top of the motor. I'm pertty excited to be standin there lookin at her and thinkin I would love to see this thing in combat, cause it has the look of maybe 250 mph and some change. Sits a little higher in the back than the front which is down pretty close to the floor. She has a parachute pack out back in between two push bars for startin the car, impressive. All the stuff like headlights, windshield, door handles, fenders, and such has been removed in the name of speed....
 
So as the Shark is opening up the barndoor, I turn around quickly to face the Shark and Cadaver. Figurin that the time is now ripe to let out some scare, I trigger the red light eyes of the Bigfoot suit. " WWhhaaazat?? " says the Cadaver. I step forward out of the shadows and raise my arms as the long soul shattering screeching moan lets out. At first I'm thinkin that I have done real good cause I can see the whites of thier eyes all around thier pupils." Aaaiiihhheeeeeeeeee " says the Cadaver as he turns toward the house. His feet are going forward and backward so fast that you cant hardly see them, as he slowly topples over toward his left. As he hits the ground, I see his drinkin glass fall from his hand, and I know he has fainted dead away. " Good gosh in Tarnation Almighty " screams the Shark as he heads toward the house at a respectable speed pretty close to lightning. " Mah, Mah, Mah,..." screams the Shark in a pretty high pitch voice, and I'm thinkin that I scared em so complete that he is a callin for his mother. When the Shark finished the sentence with " Get maah gun ", I suddenly realized that I hadn't made some good decisions that evening. As the Shark was sayin " Mah, we is gonna be rich as soon as Ah can shoot it, the coil springs in my legs was building to the breaking point. I also realized that I was silloutted in the light from the door. As my eyes focused past the Shark I could make out the Sharks Mom shouldering some kind of cannon. It blinked blue at me and a bunch of rocksalt flew by and pepered the open barndoor. My feet turned around 180 degrees and told everything else to head for the hills. In the split second that it took for the coil springs in my legs to let go, there was another shot. I may have forgotten to mention that I was carryin the award that Fast Eddie had cobbled up for the Shark. The second shot blew it clean out of my left claws. " Gosh dahrn woman, ya missed it, gimme thet thare fireahrm " screamed the Shark. Since I had accelerated to about three times the speed of sound, I was movin at about the same speed as the third shot, and immediatly recognised double ought buckshot hangin in the air next to me. This caused my body to throw all available speed toward some kind of escape. In all of the excitment, I triggered the soul searching howl again. " Did ya hear thet, I got em, I got em" said the Shark excitedly....
 
As I flew through the back door of the barn, I came face to face with a reasonable facsimile of the fabled dire wolf. The dire wolf is a prehistoric ancestor of the present day timberwolf. It's easily recognizable as being about twice as big as a timberwolf though in all characteristics includin teeth and claws, and brownish red in color . No doubt because of all of the blood staining that it gets from shredding lost campers, hikers, hunters, and the like. I'm sure that with that keen hearing and sense of smell, he was just lopeing over for a snack. Rumour has it that the dire wolf can smell fear from about ten miles out. Lucky for me that one or two chomps and he let go of the suit that had my leg in it. I'm still tryin to get rid of the wolf taste though. Another stroke of luck was the fact that the dire wolf is afraid of lead, might be a werewolf connection here, I'm still not sure. As another shot echoed out into the mountains, the dire wolf's legs became rigid straight, just like his ears and tail, and was pointed straight up in the air as he skidded to a stop and fellover all stiff like. Maybe he just got a good look or maybe a sniff of the bigfoot suit. Another stroke of fortune was with all of the speed I was now carryin, I was just gettin out of range of that shotgun pumpin fool of a Shark. My mind, that had been on vacation for a coupla hours before this here adventure, was suddenly present, and taking stock of the situation was sayin Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. The boys back at the flatbed truck was gettin involved in a hasty retreat what with all of the howlin, screamin, growls, shouting, shooting, and now, something big was commin di-rectly at them through the trees. Branches, fence posts, and fair sized saplings was bein snapped off close to the ground by the beast as it charged forward. All of the grunting,heavy breathing, and heavy footsteps comming thier way was more than they could stand. Right before I exploded from the trees next to the road right next to the back of the flatbed, I heard someone schrilly scream, " Start the freaking truck "....
 
I believe that fear is catchy. If you let enough out, everyone will be effected by it in one way or another. Like when you are out in the woods with a huntin buddy and you both hear a unfamialier noise and you are suddenly alone cause your buddy is runnin like the wind and you catch up to him easy even though he is already 100 yards down the trail and say " Did you hear that unfamialier noise " as you pass him up, and he says matter of factly, " Uh yeah, I heard it too ". Soon as a little fear was out, ya both was caught up in the age old problem of Fight or Flight. I think that is what happened when I came shootin out of the trees by the side of the road. The Rat Pack knew it was me in thier bigfoot suit but as I came out of the woods it must have looked beyond real. I think some of those guys might be afraid of the dark too. I think the darkness had most of em in a headlock and was squeezin down hard. Now I was runnin full tilt boogie but startin to come unwound. The combination of being in the suit, being shot at, running a quarter mile in about six seconds, and bouncing off of trees and fencing was quick takeing its toll on me. I saw the bed of the truck as a safe haven. If them guys that was occupyin the flatbed had just let me jump in, it would have gone pretty fair. I believe that they seen them red eyes jumpin out at the truck that contained them and the fight was on. They grabbed whatever was handy from the back of the truck to hit me with and keep me out of the back of the truck with them. Three of them was swingin a shovel, an axe handle, and a round fencepost. The other guy was swingin the last guy by his ankles and clobbered me good. Luckily the bigfoot suit is pretty thick in some places so as to keep the bruises and contusions to a minimum. Since I couldn't make the jump to the truck, I kind of glanced off the back and flew past the drivers door a ways. The look of shock on the drivers face and his resulting foot on the floor with the throttle under it further made up my mind that fear was all over the place. As the driver speed shifted from third to forth gear, and rolled up the window so fast that it almost melted, I was able to grab the side of the headache rack and hoist myself onto the side of the flatbed truck, kind of Dukes of Hazard like. I can only immagine what it must look like to see a bigfoot jumpin over the sideboards into the flatbed that you and four other scared stiff buddies is layin in. Last thing I seen fore the lights went out was when the headlights of the flatbed truck fell on Deputy Sherrif Stevie diving under the patrol wagon with a cigerette hangin limp from his lower lip, mouth all hangin open wide, with his hands and arms up protecting his head, and his eyes as big as saucers. Must have been somethin to see, a glowing red eyed bigfoot, hangin off the side of a speedin truck, with five guys fightin and screaming for thier very lives against the powers of darkness. Not too long after I woke up back on the poker table in the shop, I realized that we scared about every one but the intended victim in the whole affair, including ourselves, go figure.
 
Hey J, no pictures of the suit yet. It dissappeared right after it came off my unconscious body, while some members of the Rat Pack was hurredly checkin me for rips, tears, holes, broken bones, and internal injuries, and before Deputy Steve showed up. Suit probably dissappeared real fast cause I would imagine Deputy Steve was in hot persuit. He seemed real interested in findin the suit and puttin to rest some unsolved occurences that plague the townsfolk up there. I don't know where they hid it, but when I came to, the whole Rat pack was standin on one side, and Deputy Steve was keepin close to the front door. He seemed kind of agitated to me. His hands was shakin too, U-know, kind of like when you put your hand in the wrong place inside the electrical panel box, and a bad word escapes, and the lady of the house is standin right there, with a red face, askin if that was supossed to happen. The Rat Pack came up with a whopper of a story in a instant, to explain what we was doin out there when we was attacked by a big bear and was lucky to have got out in relatively one piece. Said that they was pissed about the award being took by the bear, and was worried about Deputy Steve's Uncle Wayne cause the bear was runnin that direction the last they seen of it. When the Rat Pack quietly asked Deputy Steve iffin he had got a good look at what was chasin the truck, Deputy Steve looked around the room slowly, then his gaze fell onto the floor at his boots that had been really shiney before they got all dusty. An uncomfortable moment passed ever so slowley and then Deputy Steve said " Biggest bear I ever seen in these parts ". The Rat Pack was all silent, shakin thier heads slowley up and down, except for me, whose head was just generally shakin all over, along with my arms and legs. I figure it was adrenaline withdrawl.He turned and walked out the door.
 
Uneasy Truce

Had to stop by the Sharks Moms place to apologize for all of the excitement, after I heard from the Rat Pack that the Shark, the Cadaver ,and Sharks Mom, was pretty upset. Deputy Steve is all bent out of shape too. Got to look around the place a little before Deputy Steve showed up and escorted me to the city limits. The Shark extended the hand of truce, said that " Yer got me perty good son ". He's real glad that I didn't end up with any holes in me from the shooting the other night. " Ah shore is powerful ralieved thet ya aint got no wholes punched clean through yer rotten hide, smart*** " said the Shark. I met the Sharks Mom. When she found out who I was, she started thumpin me with her cane. So I quick ask the Shark to tell his little sister to quit playin. " Whall shoot son, this here's mah Mah, I aint got no seester." Right away she quit hittin me with the cane and offered up some of Sharks whitelightnin. Man, I'm tellin ya that it will put hair between your toes, as my Grandpa used to say. Got a real treat when the Shark showed me into the barn. The award that I was gonna give him the other night before he shot it out of the claws I was wearin is hangin on the wall with the pictures and such that had been posted at the little store in town. He likes the award, " Even iffin it do heve a coupla a buckshoot holes inta it " says the Shark." Rhat hyere is ma baby, calls hy'er the Streamliner " says the Shark. I got a better look at it in the daylight. She's a thing of beauty if you like roadsters. It's got a supercharged 702 cubic inch GMC V-12 truck engine in it, six speed trans out of a Fiat truck with overdrive. From what I could see, there is a lot of homemade stuff in there." Sure would like to see this baby generate some heat" I gushed at the Shark. " Thet can be a-ranged " said the Shark all proud like. " Thang is, she'll run pretinear two hunnert mahles ta the 'our." My heart was poundin just thinkin about that. " Shore would like ta see her wrang out, but Ah's gettin kind a old fer goin thet fast" says the Shark. " Sides, Ah thank the valves is in need of some 'tention causin she aint runnin quite right these days." said the Shark sadly." Ace is thankin bout tearin them heads off and doin em up." Right here I told the Shark that I been known to do a little head work from time to time and even offered up the use of the valve grinding machine if he thinks he needs it. As Deputy Steve was helpin me to the truck, I told the Shark" It was real nice to meet his daughter, I mean Mom," and she give me a wink. I think it helped smooth things over...
 
Well, I thought the Dog was going to get you, I should of figured that maybe a peice of buckshot was going to bite your butt. I'm glad you out ran it and the only thing lost was a bit of dignity.
 
Been Throwin a valve grind on the cylinder heads that come from the 702 in the Streamliner. Turns out that there is four cylinder heads on the motor. Looks like GMC cobbled together two 351 V-6 gasoline engines for installation in a big truck. Built heavy duty. Couldn't resist a little port matching and polishing while I was at it. It's a early 1960's motor. In stock form it makes around 275 hp but with about 650 pounds of torque just off idle. Had a governer set at 2400 rpm. My heart is just a skippin and a jumpin thinkin about what the motor could make with a better camshaft, that big blower shovin more air inta it and maybe 5000 rpm on the dail. I'm thinkin that with no blower and breathin better, the motor should be capable of over 400 ponies. Another 40% through the blower and you might be gettin close to 600 horses. I'm talkin about draft horses cause the torque must be brutal from this thing. With a shot a nitrous, warp speed might be attainable. I don't know about those skinny rear tires though, traction might be in limited supply. I'm also wonderin how the radiator holds up tryin to cool 702 cubic inches. I'm thinkin that the sight of Sharkracer hurtling through the atmosphere in the Streamliner at triple digit speeds might make for some good readin. I'd love to hear it run....
 
Met Shark and the Cadaver at the city limit sign. When they seen them cylinder heads they darn near fell over. I went through them heads with the fine tooth comb. You can see your reflection in the combustion chambers and exhaust ports. Measured all of the combustion chambers the same, hogged out the ports, blueprinted the intake manifolds and headers, weighed and matched all of the keepers, springs, valves, and shims. Fast Eddie swirl polished the valves, flowed the heads on the flow bench, and x-rayed all the parts for cracks and fatigue. Fast Eddie was impressed with the head work and said so in front of everybody at the Skunkworks. With a incredulus look on his face, he said that this is some of the best work He's seen, besides his own, of course. My chest was out to here. I had to tell some stories about what's been goin on in Sharkville cause them guys at the Skunkworks get a kick out of the adventures. Fast Eddie knows a thing or two about motors. He says that if the cam is right and the blower is puttin out the right amout of boost, we is gonna see over 700 rip snortin bellowin horsepower, and maybe close to 1000 foot pounds of torque. I cant tell ya what that does to my breathing and heartrate. Fast Eddie also mentioned the rarity of the 702, how hard parts are to find, and not to screw it up. When Deputy Steve found out what we was up to now, he give me permission to go across the city limits during daylight hours. Give me his cellphone number so I can keep him filled in on what's goin on. I knew he has a softspot. I'm bringin the Shark and the Cadaver into the presentday in the use of modern gaskets and sealing teckniques verses grease. The big news is that we is preflightin the Streamliner for some test runs. Once we get her runnin, were gonna put a few miles on her, get her tuned, and maybe even stretch those long legs of hers. I just hope the Shark can hold on to her during the dance. Found out from Ace { the Cadaver } that the Streamliner was a project that the Shark and his only son was workin on when the kid got killed overseas, and that's why he's so sentimental on her. While Ace was throwin most of the motor back together, I cobbled up a bracket and mounted up an alternator to replace a generator that was hangin off the right side of the motor. The Streamliner is a wonderful mixture of parts that seem to come together in harmoney. I was happy to find a complete roll cage with a five point harness, fire suppression system, and fuel cell in the trunk. She's built light, but like a tank. The more I look, the more I like. I will say one thing, them guys can drink. They can put away the hard stuff like nothin, and are funny as heck when they get lit. It's been real enjoyable workin with em. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, the dire wolf came back. Turns out it is Sharks Moms dog. Ran off after the bigfoot incident. Thought I might be in trouble when it sauntered into the barn and looked down at me with them red eyes, and a evil smirk on it's chops. The Shark smiled at Ace like somethin big was gonna happin. I guess I might still be carryin some bigfoot suit smell cause one sniff is all it took and the dire wolf headed for the house with tail down and ears back. Sharks Mom was happy to see the wolf again. She calls the beast Tiffany, funny name for a wolf....
 
Fired up the Streamliner after spending a coupla hours figuring out that somebody installed the distributers off time. The 702 uses two seperate distributers run from the same adapter drive, so there is lots to fix when it is out of time. Motor turns over kinda slow, maybe needs a rebuild on the starter motor? Hard to describe the sound of the motor. It's quieter than I thought it might be. It has four sets of headers, each with a collecter and turbo muffler and tailpipe, all 2 1/2 inch. Four pipes out the back, two on each side. The back side of the 702 is snuggled under the cowl which makes workin on the ignition systems kinda tight. Runs way better than I expected. The blower is overdriven and whines real good, even at idle. Doesn't seem to have a lot of oil pressure but I guess that's the way they were made. When you accelerate the motor, the whole car rears over from the torque of the motor, Impressive. Old Shark had tears in his eyes as he jumped in and motioned to me and Ace to pull the jacks out. He was back in just a few minutes to check the fluids. She fired right back up easy. You could smell the oil and paint burnin off the hot parts. Shark made another run down to town and back. He come back and pulled around into the barnyard and jumped out gushin about how the Streamliner was runnin better than ever. I about fell over when Shark told me to be careful on my test run. " She's real squirrely on the traction, so don't get in no hurry stompin on the gas. Don't twist er more in 5000 rpm neither. S'gonna take yer a bit ta master the shiftin technique. She'll swap ens on ya quicker n a flash." Shark handed me his world war two leather flyin cap with goggles and said, " Take er down to the pass and come back east on the straight. We'll see what gear ya get er in. Have a nice ride smart*** " Now the Streamliner has five levers hangin off the side of the transmission. One lever for first and second, another lever for third and forth, another lever for fifth and sixth, another lever for reverse, and finally a lever for overdrive. You must return each lever to the neutral position before moving along to the next lever. Each lever has a loop for your fingers to fit into. Takes a little getting used to. My heart was poundin in my throut as I eased her out of the barnyard. I looked back and Shark had the look of a young dad who had just pushed his kid off on his first bicycle trip down the sidewalk. The Streamliner is a little heavy on her feet, probably because of the weight of all that motor in there. There is so much torque even at idle that just thinkin about acceleratin causes the rear tires to erupt inta smoke. Once I got down to the highway and started out of town, I was startin to get the hang of her. The 702 will rev to 5000 from idle in a heartbeat. The sound of the blower is hypnotic, as is the symphony of all them cylinders singin away out the pipes. Torque is brutal. Near as I could tell, forth gear is one to one on the ratio. I figure 2000 rpm in forth to be about 60 mph. 4500 in forth is 135mph. Fifth gear is some kind of over drive with sixth gear bein about 80%. Goin to sixth from forth at 60 mph, drops the revs to 1600. Engaging overdrive drops the revs to 1300. The calculater in my brain comes up with a terminal velocity possibility of perhaps somewhere north of 230mph if she'll carry 5000 rpm in top gear. She'll spin the tires in any gear. Down on the flats toward the pass there is about six miles of straight flat highway. On the way back I let her stretch her legs a little. When I came down to the stretch, I was runnin 3500 in fifth, which I figure to be about 100. I went through four miles of road real fast and seen 4000 rpm in sixth plus overdrive which I figure might have been the high side of 180 mph. She is rock solid on rails at this speed, as long as the rear wheels aren't slipping, darnedest thing I ever seen. Didn't seem like she was even breathin hard. The Shark and Cadaver was waitin about two miles out of town and when I came by, I'm pretty sure that they got thier hats and coats blown off by the concussion. When I got back to the barnyard, my hands and legs was shakin a little bit....
 
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