Just a Harmless Wave.

2021.09.18 21:28 WillRayne Just a Harmless Wave.

Have you ever had one of those uncomfortable moments where you think someone is waving at you, but they're actually greeting someone behind you? It's awkward, right? I mean, most of the time, you have no bloody idea who the person is that's swatting the air a ways off in front of you, but you feel compelled to return the gesture regardless.
I've had it happen quite a few times over the years, but more often than not, they don't pay attention to my dumb ass, swinging my arm around like an idiot in the direction of someone I've never met. There have been those occasions, though, where they absolutely do see me there.
There was this one time, this ridiculously attractive girl seemed to wave at me from a distance. Now, I'm about as good-looking as your average, garden variety lump of roadkill, so the fact this beautiful lady was gesturing towards me was a very unlikely scenario.
Call it wishful thinking, or just plain old gullible stupidity, but I enthusiastically waved back at her, wearing the widest and goofiest grin my face could produce. As soon as the equally as attractive man came running beside me, the girl started laughing almost uncontrollably.
"In your dreams, asshole," the guy said, chuckling as he passed by me towards what I assumed to be his girlfriend. I proceeded to do what anyone would in this situation: Pretend my wave was no more than a misread stretch to scratch the back of my head, while looking around to see if anyone else noticed.
Of course others had noticed. The more embarrassing a moment is, the more people will most definitely see it happen. I made my best effort to sneak away from the various laughing faces belonging to many strangers lining the sidewalk, doing all I could to not make any eye contact through my escape.
So, as I'm sure you can guess, I found myself returning a wave to a new stranger recently. I was just casually sitting on a bench in the park, chewing away on my fresh philly cheese steak, when I caught a figure waving out of the corner of my eye.
My numerous awkward experiences in the past left me a little more self aware, and I wouldn't just leap at the opportunity to assume that I was the lone target of any distant waves. After giving a complementary scan of the environment around me, I saw that nobody appeared responsive to the weird guy who flipped his outstretched hand around in the air.
I wasn't exactly convinced it was indeed me he was gesturing towards, but I honestly felt bad for the guy, so I reached out my arm and returned his greeting.
There we were, the two of us just waving away at each other while others passed by. A couple of people gave me strange looks as they strolled by, but none of them seemed to respond to the guy who started all of this.
After a moment, another stranger sitting on a bench close to the weirdo who flapped his hand around at me, looked up at me from the book he was reading. He glanced from side to side before giving me a small wave with a confused expression on his face.
I quickly put my hand back down, and stared deeply at my half eaten sandwich. I allowed my eyes to lift slightly, to see the guy on the bench had returned back to what he was doing. The other man was still just standing there waving at me.
He was definitely looking straight at me while he undulated back and forth with his wrist. It wasn't until then that I noticed how out of place he looked.
He was wearing a long trench coat, buttoned all the way to the top. He also had a scarf tucked in at the collar of the coat, and a thick woolen hat on his head. It even had a little fluffy pom pom on top.
This wouldn't seem all that strange if it wasn't for the fact it was the middle of June. It was probably a good eighty five to ninety degrees right now, if I had to guess.
I was currently wearing a thin tank top, cargo shorts and flip-flops. Most others were dressed similarly, that is, of course, with the exception of the freaking oddball who was still waving his damn hand at me.
Feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer the guy in the trench coat flopped his mitt around, I decided to take off. I still had a healthy chunk of cheese steak to clean off, but I figured I'd just nuke it when I got home.
I only lived a couple of blocks away from the park, so it didn't take long to get there, but my trek was far less leisurely than usual. I saw, maybe, three or four other people wearing their best winter clothing and waving like morons on just about every sidewalk.
I was starting to think there was some kind of heavy clothing convention in town, or something. None of them even looked like they were hot! I probably sweated a bucket load over the fifteen minute walk to my house.
Once I got back home and tossed my wrapped up half eaten sandwich into the microwave, I hoped I had escaped the fluttering weirdos, but I could not have been further off in that assessment.
When I walked downstairs for the first time the following day, I went about things as I usually do. Fresh coffee, makeshift attempt at a reasonable breakfast for a grown man, and click on the tv.
I'd love to pretend I start my day off by watching the news or something else a mature person would watch, but that ain't me. There I was in my living room, steaming cup o' Joe, burning pop tarts just ejected from the toaster, and SpongeBob SquarePants on the old idiot box.
It was just after I settled into the couch with my feet propped on the coffee table, when I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my living room window, staring out at a veritable herd of people in my front yard.
Maybe ten to fifteen men and women dressed in thick coats, scarves and hats stood in place waving at me through the glass. Other than the undulating, gloved hands, they remained completely still.
I'm not even sure how long I glared out at them, but I was almost entranced by the flock of greeters on my lawn. I finally snapped back to my senses and thrust the curtains closed.
I returned to my cooling breakfast, and tried my best to get back to eagerly anticipating my quest to hear "My leg!" bellowing from somewhere in the background of Bikini Bottom.
My efforts proved fruitless as I could not get the image of my yard full of flapping morons out of my head.
"What the hell are they even doing here?" My subconscious asked me with concern.
"Beats the shit outta me," I replied out loud.
Finally, after realizing my relaxing morning procedure would not be going as planned today, I decided to get out of the house and away from the crowd outside my window.
I decided to exit through my back door to hopefully avoid the group out front. It annoyed me to have to sneak around my own house to get to my car, as if I didn't want my folks to know I was breaking out to go to a party, or something. Unfortunately, my choices were limited at the moment.
I silently crept to the driver's side door of my beat up Chevy truck, and reached my hand to the door latch. As soon as I pulled the door open, I felt a freezing cold grip on my other arm.
I turned around to see a short, pudgy man in a puffy parka right behind me. He had his frigid left hand wrapped around my wrist, while he was still waving with his left.
He just glared out with a blank stare, not even looking at me while he held on tight. I noticed his breath was foggy, as though we were in the middle of winter before I yanked my arm from his grasp. He didn't even move or react to this. He just kept standing there, gazing into the beyond.
I quickly shuffled myself into my truck. I immediately cranked it up, and squealed tires as I shot out of my driveway. It's a good thing nobody else was on the road since I didn't pay the first bit of attention to whether or not anyone was there.
I kept looking in the rearview while I sped away from my home. I noticed the herd slowly turning around and staggering in the direction I was moving when I turned the corner that led out of my subdivision.
I drove around aimlessly for a while, just more trying to occupy my thoughts than anything. I hadn't made any plans for the day which I hoped to spend just vegging out on the couch. I wasn't about to sit there with my strange new audience just outside my window, but plans change sometimes. Can't be helped, I suppose.
I ended up settling on visiting the local coffee shop. It was a good place to chill for a while, and they even had computers available to the public. I thought I may be able to find some info on the unusually winter clothed wavers.
Of course, google only showed me a buttload of coats and jackets at 'unbelievable prices', but nothing about strangers flocking to random yards and the like.
"Christ," a voice said to my right, "You didn't actually wave back at them, did you?"
I turned my head to see a particularly sleazy looking man in a wrinkled suit sitting at the table beside me.
"Excuse me?" I asked, mildly annoyed by the way he spoke.
He looked like he may have been in his late thirties, or early forties. He had a salt and pepper, scraggly beard, and long hair tied back into a ponytail behind his balding head.
"You got waved at, right?" He asked, with a slight 'I know what you did' smirk across his thin face
"What's it to you, man?" I asked, feeling more defensive than the situation required.
"Ain't many can actually see them," he replied as he shuffled over to the seat across from me at my table.
I halfway wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I was curious about what he had to say.
"What do you mean, not everyone can see them?" I asked.
"They ain't exactly here, you know?" He replied, sort of rhetorically. "I figure they just kinda leak through, from time to time, you get me?"
"Nope!" I replied. I had no freaking clue what he was getting at.
He went on to explain that he worked for an organization that researched and investigated strange occurances. He wouldn't get into what many of these cases involved, but one in particular had to do with the strange individuals who now shambled in front of the building I was sitting in.
"Goddamnit!" I exclaimed when I noticed the group forming outside the large front window of the coffee shop.
"Yep, you waved back for sure," he said, craning his neck to look outside.
"What the fuck are they?" I asked, "Some kinda ghosts, or something?"
"Not exactly," he replied, still studying the herd, "As close as we can figure, we think they're trapped between the planes."
"Planes?" I asked.
"Planes of existence," he replied nonchalantly, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to say.
He turned back to face me, and he seemed to squint his eyes and look deeply into mine.
"They're lost, you see," he continued, still studying my face, "Whether they're from our dimension or another, they can't find they're way back, you with me?" He asked.
"I think so," I replied, though I was 'with him' about as much as a possum was with the grill of the truck that just struck him dead.
"Think of it like a sort of sickness," he began again, "They're locked in a single moment, while attempting to cling on to anything tangible."
I just stared at him with my mouth hanging halfway open.
"We don't know why some people can see them, while others can't, but if they get someone to acknowledge them, they cling to them like a damn virus."
"So, what, I waved back at one of them, so they're gonna follow me around like a lost fucking puppy for the rest of my life!?" I asked, growing increasingly frustrated by this whole ordeal.
"Nah," he replied, "As long as you keep ignoring them, they'll wander off soon enough. Just give it a week or two."
I let out a long sigh. For a moment I thought I was stuck with my own entourage of overdressed weirdos.
"Thank God!" I said with a relieved chuckle.
The stranger got back to his feet and clapped his hand across my back.
"Just don't tell anyone else about this, yeah?" He halfway asked.
"Oh, I won't," I replied. Last thing I wanted was anyone thinking I was batshit, seeing people that weren't really there.
"Just be sure you never let them touch you," he said as he made his way to the exit.
I'm not especially proud of how long it took for that last sentence to register in my brain. Maybe I was still caught up in momentary jubilation that this strange ordeal was almost over. Perhaps I really am just a singularly stupid individual. Who knows? Luckily, by the time it dawned on me, the stranger in the wrinkled suit hadn't escaped the coffee shop just yet.
"Wait!" I called out, getting to my feet.
He turned to face me with one arm outstretched towards the door handle.
"What happens if they touch you?" I asked before taking a quick glance at my left wrist that still bore a bruise like hand print.
"Goddamnit, kid," he replied with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
It's been a few weeks since that day, and the waving crowd still gathers up wherever I find myself. The guy in the wrinkled suit, who still refused to offer me his name, took me to meet the people he worked with.
It's a small building they work out of, but they appear to have a decent amount of funding for their research. They've been running tests on me, while occasionally feeding my veins with a number of different drugs, but I can't really tell what they're hoping to accomplish.
I'll just keep letting them poke and prod me for now. I really hope they manage to figure something out soon.
It's starting to feel quite cold in here.
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2021.09.18 21:28 BagPuzzleheaded8350 Cupcake masked singer usa drawing

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2021.09.18 21:28 AutoNewspaperAdmin [Sports] - Leon Bailey’s cameo inspires Aston Villa to rousing victory over Everton | Guardian

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2021.09.18 21:28 trademarktower Work on a computer or my phone 12+ hours a day and can't get multifocals to work for me

I've tried a few multifocal brands of contacts and have a lot of issues with near vision. It's OK for a few hours but after hour 3 or 4 I really feel the eyestrain and have to take them out. My distance vision has always been is terrible -7.50 in both eyes and I'm 45 and the last few years I have used +1 readers over my contacts because of how much time I'm on the computer and my phone.
I was thinking perhaps the easiest and cheapest solution is to simply under correct the contact lenses for neaintermediate -6.50 and then simply using a pair of distance glasses for nighttime driving -1.00? I think that would probably get me out of glasses 90% of the time.
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2021.09.18 21:28 AutoNewspaperAdmin [Sports] - Paul Merson: ‘Gambling is a horrible addiction. Your career passes you by’ | Guardian

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2021.09.18 21:28 ChewBoom Relaxing Woodland Ambience | Bird sounds | Sleep, Relax, Focus or Meditation

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2021.09.18 21:28 AutoNewspaperAdmin [World] - Girl aged 2 dies after falling from pony at Bedale Hunt meet | Guardian

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2021.09.18 21:28 ARES19333 Are the HL1 expansions worth it in 2021?

I resonantly played through HL1, HL2 and HLA. I am going to purchase the HL2 expansions bc they are important to the narrative, but is there any reason to buy opposing force and blue shift? Or are they just glorified map packs?
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2021.09.18 21:28 Kappaboi15 I'll never understand the whole videogame music isn't real music argument

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2021.09.18 21:28 throwaway_forabadday My mom thinks I’m depressed when I’m not and won’t leave me alone about it

I used to paly the guitar and draw stuff but haven’t actually enjoyed them for about a year now, so I finally quit. I also realized my friends are pretty annoying people who don’t really give a shit about me, so I mostly stopped hanging out with them.
I’m also not the best at school, a lot of missed homework that I genuinely forget to do, and I have a pretty hard time reading for tests. I also hate the whole school thing where you just sit and get told what to do for 8 hours a day, so I just do enough to pass with minimal work.
I usually spend most of my free time just listening to music and working out 5 times a week, occasionally going on walks.
Obviously when I’m listening to music it kinda just looks like im laying down not doing anything, but I truly enjoy it, for me listening to music is as entertaining as games or movies, they feel like they carryme to another world or some shit.
Now all of this has been twisted by my mom, ”you stopped doing stuff you enjoy, you just lay in bed all day, you don’t care about school, you’ve become isolated from your friends” stuff like that. She keeps bringing it up every fucking day saying im depressed and that shes worried about me, if I even mention some random thing she reaponds with ”that sounds like what a depressed person would say” I’ve explained over and over again but she just won’t listen, jesus I’m tired of her.
She has/has had depression so I personally believe she just sees those traits in everyone, convincing herself everyone is as miserable as her.
Any advice how ho finally get her to leave me alone?
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2021.09.18 21:28 Crash195x2 Enjoying my first month with Flexpool so far.

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2021.09.18 21:28 joojgomes sai no soco com bolsonaristas nesse sábado

Hoje pela manhã fui cortar meu cabelo, pois já fazia mais de 3 meses desde o meu último corte.
Tenho um barbeiro de confiança, que já tá no ramo há muito tempo. Meu avô cortava o cabelo com o avô dele, meu pai corta com o pai dele, eu corto com ele e, provavelmente, meu filho cortará com o filho dele (sim, o filho já trabalha no salão).
Pelo menos, era o que eu achava até hoje.
Tudo normal. Aguardo minha vez, folheio os jornais, jogo conversa fora, TV de 20' do salão sintonizada em algum programa sensacionalista da Record. Padrão.
Chega minha vez, sento na cadeira, digo apenas "o de sempre", ele assente com a cabeça e tudo começa.
Na cadeira ao lado, o filho dele começa a cortar o cabelo de outro sujeito. No meio do corte, meu barbeiro e o cara começam a conversar sobre Airsoft, trilhas e acampamentos. Eu me interesso pelos temas - menos Airsoft, porque dizem que rola muita brotheragem - e entro na conversa.
O assunto descamba para armas e porte. Já acendeu um sinal amarelo. Não demorou muito para desaguar na matança de "vagabundos" e como Bolsonaro é um coitado que não consegue fazer nada porquê não deixam ele trabalhar. Fico quieto, pois apesar de não ter pena de bandido, não confio em gente com arma perto de mim, a menos que eu também possa ter uma.
A conversa, então, desenrolou para vacinas e governadores. Aqui vocês já sabem o que foi dito. Continuei na minha, já que não pediram minha opinião, e escutei em forma de pedra todas as asneiras sem sentido possíveis.
Finalmente, a pauta caiu nos atos do 7 de setembro e a maionese começou a desandar.
Os caras começaram a falar que Bolsonaro arrasta as multidões, que o povo está com ele até o fim, que os caminhoneiros tinham que fechar tudo, os militares são comunistas, o Congresso é comunista, e que estão censurando o presidente.
Além disso, que tinha mais de 5 milhões de pessoas em Brasília, e que o STF pediu desculpas ao Bolsonaro para não entrar em estado de sítio. Comecei a ficar perplexo. Apenas desliguei meu cérebro e contei as pontas de um pente que estava na minha frente.
Porém, no meio de todas as besteiras, uma delas me fez sair da inércia: Zambelli. Voltei do meu stand by, só para ouvir os caras falando em como a Carla era linda e maravilhosa, que era a rainha das noites solitárias, que ela era muito melhor que suas esposas, e começaram a falar todo o tipo de baixaria e indecência sobre ela.
Nessa hora, eles começaram a recitar um tipo de poema sobre ela, um texto, quase que combinado, parecia até que estavam em transe. Disseram todo o tipo de coisa obscena, insinuando até que ela teria sido pega no flagra em uma sala do Congresso.
Quando percebi, todos no salão estavam fazendo a mesma coisa, com os braços estendidos para os lados, pés juntos e olhares fixos para o nada.
Foi a gota d'água. Me levantei da cadeira e, aos berros, disse que eles não tinham o direito de falar daquele jeito da musa do Brasil, a ruiva dos meus sonhos, minha Beatriz, Afrodite em forma humana. Não aguentei mais ouvir aquilo.
Não teve mais jeito, tive que partir pra cima. Peguei a tesoura que estava no balcão e fui pra cima do barbeiro. O palhaço desviou para o lado e me cortou no braço com uma navalha.
O filho dele tentou me segurar, mas consegui me soltar e dei uma estocada bem no pescoço. Só que não saiu sangue.
Ele revirou os olhos, ficou parado, e eu fiquei congelado.
O barbeiro e o outro cliente me seguraram e me jogaram no chão. O filho arrancou a tesoura do pescoço, parou na minha frente e falou "ELE NÃO CONHECE A VERDADE". O resto dos caras do salão falaram em coro: "E ELA VOS LIBERTARÁ".
Os malucos começaram a murmurar, enquanto eu me debatia tentando me soltar daquela situação, quase chorando de tanto medo.
Até que, do nada, a cabeça do filho do barbeiro explodiu. Ouvi um som alto de tiro, que ficou zumbido no meu ouvido e me deixou atordoado.
Olhei para a porta do salão e lá estava ela. Minha musa, minha senhora e rainha de todos os dias, o Sol das minhas manhãs, minha estrela maior, montada em uma Caloi Barra Circular tunada, segurando uma 12 e cabelos ao vento, com a pinta ao lado da boca característica.
Ouvi mais uns tiros e fechei os olhos. Senti uma mão me puxando, com um toque suave, mas firme. Todos do salão estavam destroçados, mas a cena que deveria ser a de um abatedouro, na verdade parecia mais um ferro velho.
Foi aí que eu percebi: eles não eram humanos, eram máquinas o tempo todo.
Sem dizer uma palavra, minha Deusa me colocou na bagageiro de sua bicicleta e pedalou até um local afastado, onde estamos até agora.
Meu nome é João Corno. Faço esse texto para chamá-los à luta. Seja a resistência
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2021.09.18 21:28 danpietsch HA HA HA!!! Close captioning fail!

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2021.09.18 21:28 EmShaf Number of times you saw Mac live?

I never had the experience...I had tickets for the Swimming tour, the Boston location to be exact but..... So It Goes...
View Poll
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2021.09.18 21:28 pleasepickupafter Mike Williams or Tee Higgins at Flex, full PPR?

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2021.09.18 21:28 AutoNewspaperAdmin [Local] - Pa.’s looming dementia care crisis, by the numbers | Pgh Tribune-Review

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2021.09.18 21:28 desichidiya Size of hat == size of boobs?

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