I arrived home late at night after a long day’s drive and walked into my house. A familiar mutt scampers up to me, its tail wagging. After petting Jackie for a while, I put food and water in her bowls, then fill a glass for myself with ice and water. I sit down in my room where my computer is. Jackie jumps onto my bed and curls up like usual. I turn on the PC and plug in my phone to recharge. It’s my backup GPS when I’m doing deliveries, after all. Getting lost while driving a semi-truck has happened to me before, and it’s awful. I open up my internet browser.
The heavy shitposting begins. I’ve always been a filthy omniboarder, continually honing my skills in (You) collection across the map of 4chan, the place I frequent every day. Today is 4/20, so “dude weed” posting is rampant. Cycling between boards, I mock waifus in threads on /a/, create “subtle” /pol/ threads on /v/, and praise the Powerpuff Girls remake on /co/. I derail the actual discussion with post number roulettes, and execute the classic “reply to literally every post in the thread with one post and call them fags.” It’s like a game to me, as I fulfill my deep desire to be the most obnoxious piece of shit possible.
/co/ is particularly active right now because we’re fast approaching its 100m GET, a landmark any aspiring shitposter would love to acquire and ruin for everyone. I spot a fellow shitposter trying to derail a Cal-arts thread with a “reply to this and” image, and obviously, I humor this brother in arms with a reply to his cheap post in an awful thread. Just as I hit submit, I hear a noise like an engine starting in my yard.
While I typically waste time online, my one real hobby is renovating cars and trucks. I’m primarily an /o/ poster when I’m actually contributing to the discussion. This house is an old farmhouse, and I use the barn to store my projects. The engine noise sounded like it came from my barn, and I’m the only one that lives here, so I’m immediately put on edge. I grab my shotgun, turn on the mounted light, and head out into the yard. If someone is actually here and is armed, I’d really rather they not shoot my dog, so I close the door, so Jackie can’t get out.
Nobody has ever tried to do anything to my property before, so I’m not really sure how to handle this. Anyone can read a self-defense story, but living it is another issue. If I were acting intelligently, I’d lock my doors and call the police, but those are MY cars. The starting of an engine means that someone could be hotwiring one of them, but hasn’t driven out yet. The main barn door is still closed, which is already strange. I enter through the side door of my barn and begin quickly checking the interior of the building without coming entirely into the room.
None of them are on, but he could have turned it off to go to check another car. I take a risk I shouldn’t take, and shout into the barn.
>Get the fuck out of my barn!
I then pump the shotgun audibly and get as ready as can be… nothing happens. There’s no noise or movement in the barn. The only sound I hear is my own breathing and heartbeat. He could be hiding inside one of the cars or trucks, waiting for me to give up and leave. Unfortunately for him, I’m a dumbass. I begin checking the insides of the cars one by one. I’m interrupted when a car on the opposite side of the building turns on, shining its light in the dark barn. I point the gun and cross through the middle of the barn towards the car.
Suddenly, the cars and trucks in the barn start turning on one by one, the sound of their engines growing louder. I begin desperately shining the light on my gun into the cars, but I can’t see anyone in any of the driver’s seats. Their high-beams turn on simultaneously, and quickly grow brighter and brighter, with me in the middle. Before I know it, everything is white, and everything is quiet.