Wow, you people had some serious fucked up Hallmark Holidays in years past. But only one of you can be the winner for the worst story, and boy, is it a doozy!
First of all, thanks to all you sad sacks for leaving your horror stories from this most romantic of all holidays. The entries were all wonderfully diverse. When we did this for Thanksgiving and Christmas, all the stories fit into one of several themes, but all of these were different and special in their own way. Like snowflakes, but snowflakes made of acid and if you tried to catch one on your tongue it would burn a giant hole right through it.
Here are some of favorites, in no particular order. I wrote the titles, but the stories are all yours:
- If He Cheated with You, He’ll Cheat on You by Marclax3
- Michael the Merciless by CPJones
- Get Bi with a Little Help from My Friends by RollsRoyceRevenge
- Slipped a Mickey by CuriousGeorgina
- Three Strikes and You’re Out by TheUptightMidwesterner
- From China with Hate by EricRWilliams
- STUFFER! by Encantada
- A Corny Gift by Octothorp
- Crash Landing by DevilsAvocado
- Drunk Narcissus in the Bathhouse by EricVarner31
- Sex Tape Surprise by AngelaColorito
- Dr. Joyce Bothers by H_In_Brooklyn
- My Bloody Valentine by GhiaGirl
- There’s Always Room for Jello by Printer’s Anonymous
- Finally, a special commendation to Betty Crocker for his continued contribution to the holiday horror story art form with Kiss My Gay Ass
Our second runner up has a story that is so twisted and sad, it almost made me cry. AttractiveNuissance doesn’t win a prize, but she does get the bragging rights that her story was better than nearly all the rest. Behold, The Dastardly Divorce and the Lesbian Librarian.
Our first runner up also doesn’t receive a prize, but in the event that the winner can not perform her duties or has naked pictures leaked on the internet, she will be crowned the winner. It is Auparalas for her flood or horrors detailed in Hotel Room for Love.
Now, on to our winner. This is a tale that is so unique, exquisitely detailed, and utterly barouque that the rights for it should be optioned for it to be made into a screenplay. It has everything: death, destruction, snow storms, Applebees, creepy family, a demonic stuffed animal, heroic gays, and our sad heroine reflecting on one of the absurd moments in her life. Congratulations to Candied Violet, the winner of $50 in credit at her favorite dating website. Email us to collect your prize. Hopefully we can find her #love, because we can give her no solace for her twisted tale.
Thanks to everyone who shared their stories of heartbreak, but they all suck compared to this one. The winning story is below.
On February 12 of 2001, the mother of my then- boyfriend passed away at the young age of 42 due to drug use, malnourishment and a complete inability to take care of herself despite all the help offered and all the hospital stays/surgeries paid for by the state. In general she had led a nasty, repulsive life from which many, MANY people including myself tirelessly attempted to rescue her through the years. There’s no way to sugarcoat this- even without the drug issues, all of her other behaviors made her the epitome of white trash. (Curiously, one such white trash episode- I kid you not- involved water with HAM a la J-WOWW years before J-WOWW was a household name.) I should mention here that not long after this woman’s death her son, my first love with whom I had been with for SEVEN years and helped put through college, turned out to be a cheating, lying thief who was selling drugs out of our attic. (I know….shocking! But I was young, naive and had the type of Messiah complex that only comes with first love.)
Also, I should mention that a week before his mom passing, a female “friend” of his died at 26 from an undetected cancer and we had made the 4 1/2 hour drive to his hometown of Bumblefuck, Pennsylvania (a town renowned for its lone gay bar repeatedly being burned down and then reopened under new ownership. Over and over and over again. Burn, reopen, burn, reopen which should give you the idea of the area’s general mentality). The viewing for that friend of his caused many people to throw up in the alley behind the funeral home because whoever did the deceased’s make up hadn’t covered her autopsy scars. And yes, in retrospect I figured out that this “friend” I helped him mourn was another girl with whom he had been cheating on me at some point. But I digress.
So his mom kicks the bucket. I have the awful job of driving to his work to tell him.and then pack all our stuff up and leave to make the 4 1/2 hour drive to Bumblefuck. Again. We don’t leave until midnight. I wind up driving the whole way because even though this was expected and he truly wasn’t close to her, he is sort of lost in thought and not able to concentrate plus I’m not a bitch- who is going to make someone drive that just lost their mom even if they weren’t close to her at all? Not I. The snow comes down. I almost hit a deer. Trying to stay awake on the frozen, winding mountain roads is nearly impossible. We get to his maternal grandparents’ house which is where we always stayed because his mom was such a mess. I should mention here that his father was a career petty criminal who was out of the picture since my boyfriend was a baby. Oh, and his step-grandfather? He was both a cop and a perv who through the years would constantly sexually harass me. (Each time I confronted him/scolded/yelled …etc. etc. etc. but he seemed to have some sort of dirty old man asshole amnesia and kept on doing it.)
With hardly any sleep, I wake up on February 13th to learn that the funeral arrangements had been made without even consulting my boyfriend, her only son and oldest child. Much to my horror I learn that his mom will be getting the cheapest package possible which is literally being placed in a cardboard box. Which would be one thing if she was going to be cremated immediately, but no, a viewing for immediate family was scheduled for the next day which of course was Valentine’s Day. As if that wasn’t horrid enough, I learned that his mother didn’t so much as own one decent dress or suit in which to be buried. This troubled me greatly and I quietly offered to go purchase something nice for her. I was told NO, they would “make do” with what she had.