#theplaceboeffect

[die-clean-blog]

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Eddie. Seriously------I think I’d remember doing something like that.” He did sort of remember doing it actually------sort of. But he wasn’t going to say that.

[fucking-trashmouth-blog]

Richie And Eddie Get The Scoop | June 29th, 1989

He didn’t quite know what he was expecting to find. No leper, though------that was for fuckin’ sure. Nothing? That would probably have been for the best. Then he could tell Eddie that whatever it was------whoever it was------had cleared off. But even if he did find some fuckin’ creepy hobo trying to sell blowjobs to kids on the cheap, at least he’d be able to tell Eddie that was all it was (A fuckin’ creepy, pervert hobo with God only knew how many STDs, not a leper or some weird monster). Not to mention he could tell him that he’d sent the guy packing, and sending him packing was exactly what he planned on doing if he found him.

Sure, the idea of coming face to face with a creep like that freaked him out a little. But it was the middle of the day, and he didn’t plan on going far from the road. What could happen? Besides, if the guy was messed up sick half as bad as Eddie had described, he wouldn’t be too hard to fight off if it came to that. And more than likely, it’d be as simple as telling him his dad was a cop or a lawyer or something. That usually did the trick------at least in the movies. And he wasn’t about to let that creep off easy after how bad he’d scared Eddie.

He dropped his bike on the grass in front of rickety fence and looked around. Then, straightening his glasses, he started off into the weedy yard belonging to 29 Neibolt Street. He thought about what Bill had said. What Stan had said. What Ben had said. Thought back on Beverly’s bathroom------me, worry?------and all at once, tried not to think about that. Because how did you freakin’ explain that, huh? That’s not why you’re here, man------don’t even fuckin’ worry about it. It didn’t matter if all of them thought it was some crazy conspiracy------what they’d seen, or what they thought they’d seen------because none of it had happened. Not the way they were all so freakin’ convinced it had happened, anyway.

There was no bleeding picture, no creepy bitch in the Standpipe, no headless kid in the library------no clowns------and whatever that had been all over Beverly’s bathroom, it hadn’t been blood. Minerals in the water, maybe. He’d read about that. Seen it on TV, especially in old western movies. Heck, maybe it had even been rust from the pipes. That apartment she lived in was old as balls and the plumbing was probably shit.

So how d’you freakin’ explain it coming out of the sink like that, huh?

Some crazy fluke------yeah, that was what. Some fucking freak phenomenon that had made her sink vomit up a bunch of water, like when sinks in old houses got air stuck in the pipes and spat at you, except worse. Her dad had been drunk or some shit (Did Beverly’s dad drink? He couldn’t remember her ever talking about it, but everybody drank sometimes, right?) so he hadn’t noticed. Yeah. No moving picture, no creepy bitch, no headless kid, no blood------no leper. No fucking clowns. He would prove it to Eddie, for Eddie, so he wouldn’t be scared anymore. He’d prove it to everyone, and he would prove it to himself. So he wouldn’t be scared anymore. So he wouldn’t have to go over it again and again------me, worry? Stupid, stupid, stupid------trying to reason it all away like he was doing right now.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right? Right? ‘Cause there was nothing here now. Nothing but a landscaping nightmare that would’ve drove his mom out of her freakin’ mind. Under there, Rich------his eyes flickered, coming to rest on the slumped porch. That was where Eddie said he’d seen it the second time. 

You have to look under there.

His mouth felt suddenly dry. If he’d said he wasn’t starting to get sort of creeped out (And that was what he would’ve said------haha, me, worry?------make no fuckin’ mistake, if there’d been anyone around to say it to) he would’ve been lying. And was it just him, or had it gotten a lot darker all of a sudden? The sun had been beating down hard when he’d first left the house, so much that sweat had stuck his shirt to his back on the ride down. Now it had disappeared without so much as a ‘see you later’ behind a muddle of clouds that he could’ve sworn hadn’t been there before. He swallowed thickly, ducked his head and pushed up his glasses, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

Stupid------of course you’re gettin’ creeped out, stupid. You’re doing it to yourself. You’re thinking about all that fuckin’ freaky shit again. Doesn’t matter whether or not it actually happened------and it didn’t freakin’ happen, Rich------y’still shouldn’t be thinking about it. Jesus, it’s still going to be scary to think about, the same way those crappy movies y’like so much are scary to think about. Y’know none of it’s real, but when you’re alone in the dark after you’re done watchin’ ‘em, they still scare you, in some stupid, irrational kind of way. And that stuff hadn’t actually happened, had it? Of course not------it’s just like with one of those crappy movies. You’re being fucking stupid. He gritted his teeth, hands balling, fingers squeezing into his palms. Just think about what you freakin’ came here for in the first place. Just get under the porch, take a look around, and get out, you fucking pussy.

He was actually getting a little mad at himself now. Mad that he was scared. Mad that he was even thinking about any of that dumb shit------mad enough that, for a moment, he didn’t even feel afraid anymore. Just annoyed. Even pissed. Mad enough that he walked right up to the slumping porch, pawed almost violently through a tangle of dead vines grown up around it and ducked down, squeezing underneath.

The smell hit him right away------decaying leaves, a smell he usually liked. But this was different somehow. This was wet and dirty------a dying smell, mixed with the smell of alcohol and cigarettes and stale piss and garbage and who freakin’ knew what else. There were broken bottles and empty cans and moldy blankets scattered all around. And shadows------too many shadows. He could feel himself starting to get nervous again------me, worry?------and he hated it. Hated it so much that he just got angrier, and crawled in more than he really needed to. And the farther he crawled, the worse the smell got. He screwed up his eyes, squinting. The light was bad, and like always, his eyes were bad, but there was no doubt about it. Someone had definitely been hanging out under here. Maybe even some pervert looking to make a buck or two blowing kids, poor Eds------but there was no one now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a busted window. Fucking weird place for a window, if y’asked him. It must’ve looked down into the basement. And then he remembered------hadn’t Eddie said something about a window? Had the hobo come from the basement, or just under the porch? He couldn’t remember now. But there was something about that window. It’ll be a squeeze, but I’ll bet I can fit through. And then he was inching across the ground------the leaves felt spongy under his hands and knees------closer and closer to the opening.

It’ll be a squeeze, but I’ll bet I can fit through.

But------why? Why would he want to fit through?

It must’ve been his own idea. Could only have been his own idea. But it didn’t seem like it had come from him. It was more like someone had put it in his head. Stupid------still, going inside the house had never been part of the plan. So why did it seem like he had to do it now? He didn’t want to go in. Squinting into the square of darkness, he could see that the basement was dimly lit, an explosion of leaves and junk. Creepy as fuck, in other words. And no hobo. No reason to go down there, then. Shit, no person in there right mind would want to go down there.

But for some reason he was sure had nothing at all to do with putting Eddie’s fears to bed (Jesus, he didn’t actually need to go inside to be able to say with passable confidence that the guy Eddie had seen under the porch wasn’t around anymore), a reason he couldn’t explain, he felt like he had to do it. So he did, just like that. Rolled over on his belly and shimmed right on through the window, dropping down to the dirt below before he even knew what he’d done, or why he’d done it.

[a-genuinely-spooky-kid-blog]

@the-placebo-effect / cont. from (x)

He smiled vaguely------blinked a few times, then looked down and spat out a big, gloppy wad that now only remotely resembled the candy bar in question onto his hand. "Thought so. And hey------looky here. I saved some for ya." He glanced up again------held out his hand and put it right in the kid’s face. It bobbed up and down. "Here y'go. Y'want it, don'tcha?"

[wiinstons]

another MISSING kid poster. dally could’ve sworn that this is the FIFTH one that he’s seen today. on average, the kids were all around thirteen to fifteen years old. there weren’t any exactly any worries for him- seeing how he looks to be in his twenties instead of seventeen. 

and the idea of psycho kidnapping or murdering someone who has a criminal rep themselves ?? that’s a joke. 

                   ❝ fuckin’ CHRIST. does the fuzz ‘round here have SHIT for brains or has this town always been known for having a missin’ kid poster at every corner? ❝ 

( eddie. )

[wcllpower-blog]

@the-placebo-effect

“Your mom sounds even more protective than mine.”

[wroteloser-blog]

       how she managed to be sitting  alone on the waiting bench outside school puzzled her just as much as it made her irritated.  her friends just had to be fetched right after the bell rang ------ and the last person she wanted to  ( try to )  tolerate just had to be waiting there too.  greta turns to her right, scowling.    ❛     are you lost, kaspbrak?  don’t you usually bike home with all your loser friends?     ❜

@the-placebo-effect !

[goodwithabat]

          He didn’t see it as a weird statement to make, but then again, maybe Steve’s mileage for what qualified as weird was way off.  ❛ Okay. Yeah --- But it was just a figure of speech, man. ❜ Steve racked his brain for an ADDITIONAL explanation. ❛ Like a metaphor, you know? I’m not actually a single mom, it’s just how I feel like sometimes. ❜ Especially nowadays, when his friends were nonexistent and the only people who seemed to want him around were a bunch of middle schoolers. Damn, he really had fallen to the bottom of the grapevine. ❛ I’m an only child. But these days, I find myself babysitting a whole lot and driving around a bunch of kids. Not a complaint. Just an observation.  ❜  // cont.

[barmitzvahed]

salty holiday stan for @the-placebo-effect

          “ i’m not trying to be rude, but it’s november 5th and i’ve already been wished a merry christmas three times. one time outside my own synagogue and, frankly, i’m offended. ”