Happy Halloween! Ever wonder what’s on the mind of your favorite celebrity on this spooktacular day? Find out in today’s special edition of “They Said What?!”:
“SPLAT! Sean watched a gooey ooze dribble down his windshield. Apparently, it was raining…eggs? ‘Hey, designated dork!’ The taunt came from behind some hedges across the street. ‘You’re missing the party!’ SPLAT! Another egg exploded on his windshield. Sean grabbed some napkins and got out of his car with a sigh. ‘Yeah, that’s sort of the point,’ said Sean. ‘I’m not drinking tonight so I can drive drunk idiots like you home.’ The two egg hurlers exchanged looks of drunken confusion. ‘Whatever, loser.’ SPLAT! The egg hit Sean in the chest, and the two tipsy assailants stumbled their way back into the house party. As Sean wiped the splattered egg off the windshield, he couldn’t help but think that they kind of had a point. Instead of playing beer pong and partying with friends, he was wiping egg off of a windshield and playing bus driver for a bunch of wasted people. He was a loser. But he’d made peace long ago with the fact that this was just the price he’d have to pay to get into Harvard. Sean’s entire life revolved around getting into Harvard. He took all AP classes, including three foreign languages, was first-chair violin in the school orchestra, and spent his Friday and Saturday nights volunteering as a designated driver. He did all of these things, foregoing friendships and partying and fun for one reason: To one day don the crimson crest. Sitting in his car with egg shrapnel still plastered to his shirt, he tried to tell himself it would all be worth it. SPLAT! Oh, come on, really? He had just finished cleaning up the last eggs! But it wasn’t an egg. It was a human hand on his left-side window. And not just any hand. This particular hand was famous in Pine Grove. It belonged to Brian St. James, star quarterback and partier-in-chief. The visibly drunk St. James mumbled incoherently as he tapped on the window, his eyes struggling to focus on Sean’s face. Sean unlocked the back door and motioned for Brian to get in. After a brief struggle to decipher the puzzle of the door handle, Brian managed to open the door and collapse on Sean’s back seat. ‘Rough night?’ Sean asked, looking at Brian’s slumped frame in the rearview mirror. ‘Stomach…’ Brian mumbled, ‘Please…’ Sean started the car. ‘Try and channel that signature quarterback aim and contain your vomit to this guy, okay?’ Sean said, handing Brian a bucket. After many designated driving shifts, he was well-prepared for this situation. ‘All right, Brian. Let’s take you back home. What’s your address?’ Brian mumbled, ‘Highway…just…go…’ Sean started the car. ‘Aye, aye, cap’n.’ He drove down to the highway and started off in the direction of town, keeping an eye on Brian in the rearview. ‘All right, Brian,’ said Sean. ‘I’m on the highway. Now where should I go?’ No response from Brian. ‘Brian? Hey, Brian…’ Again, no response. He seemed to be asleep. ‘Brian!’ Brian moaned drunkenly, ‘Just…go…’ Sean was getting annoyed. ‘Brian, I can’t take you home if you don’t tell me where you live. And I can’t just drive you around aimlessly, okay? Other people need a designated driver tonight. Now please try and tell me your address.’ But Brian wasn’t making any sense at all at this point. His speech was just a jumble of random words. ‘Red…eyes…coming…highway…faster…’ Sean sighed. Spending his weekends shuttling blackout drunk jocks had better help him get into Harvard, otherwise he’ll have wasted his high school social life all for nothing. Then he had a terrifying realization—that might actually happen. He had never really considered it before. The possibility that doing all the right things—the right classes, the right extracurriculars, the right community service—still might not get him into Harvard. The thought sent a chill up his spine and a surge of anxious adrenaline coursing through his veins. And then he got mad. ‘Okay, Brian! You’re too drunk to tell me where you live, so guess what, buddy? You’re going back to the party. I don’t have time to babysit pathetic alcoholics-in-training like you. I’m trying to get into Harvard.’ Sean swung a U-turn and started heading back in the other direction. Suddenly, Brian grabbed his arm, sending the car swerving over the yellow line dividing the two-lane highway. ‘What the hell, Brian! Are you trying to kill us?’ Brian was squeezing his arm and mumbling, ‘No…please…it’s…coming…’ They swerved back and forth on the highway as Sean struggled to pry Brian’s hand off of his arm. But he just wasn’t strong enough. That hand had held on to footballs after being tackled by 300-pound linebackers; it wasn’t going to let go that easily, even in Brian’s drunken state. In desperation, Sean slammed on the brakes. The car went into a slide before finally screeching to a halt on the side of the road. Somehow, they were alive. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Sean yelled, finally managing to wrest his arm back from Brian. But Brian didn’t respond. Before Sean knew what was happening, Brian was opening the door and lumbering down the highway in the opposite direction. ‘Goddamn it!’ Sean swore. Then, reflecting that letting blackout drunk football stars run out onto the highway in the middle of the night while ostensibly in his care wouldn’t help him get into Harvard, he got out of the car. Brian had evidently tripped in his drunken stupor and was now lying on his back on side of the road about 20 yards behind Sean’s car. ‘Okay, buddy,’ said Sean, leaning down over Brian. ‘Maybe remember this experience next time and lay off the booze.’ Brian looked Sean in the eyes for maybe the first time since getting in his car. He looked strangely afraid. ‘I’m…not…drunk…’ Sean scoffed. ‘Sure, pal. Whatever you say.’ Brian grabbed Sean’s arm again. ‘Stomach…hurt…’ Then Sean saw it—the red stain that had bloomed from Brian’s stomach. His letterman jacket had hidden it before, but now that he was lying down on his back, it was all too visible. Brian’s shirt had been torn to shreds and long, claw-shaped cuts coursed across his torso. It was a wonder he was still alive. ‘Oh, my God…Brian, what happened?’ Sean managed to say, looking in terror at Brian’s gushing wounds. ‘It…chased…me…’ mumbled Brian. ‘What? What chased you?’ Brian looked at Sean, struggling to breathe. ‘Red…eyes…” said Brian. That’s when Sean became aware of a strange purring sound coming from nearby. He had assumed it was the engine of the car. But it wasn’t coming from the car. It was coming from the forest that lined the highway. And looking into the shadows between the trees, he saw a pair of large, red eyes glowing in the darkness. They were the strangest eyes he’d ever seen. Both animal and somehow human. Then there was the smell…it smelled like…burning. ‘Hello, Sean,’ purred a guttural voice from the darkness. The eyes were growing bigger as the creature they belonged to came nearer. ‘What do you want?’ Sean cried, keenly aware that Brian was losing more and more blood with every passing moment. ‘It’s not about what I want, Sean,’ the creature purred. ‘But rather what you want.’ ‘I don’t understand,’ whimpered Sean. ‘Please, just leave us alone!’ A deep, horrible laugh bellowed from the darkness where the creature with the red eyes stood, cloaked in shadow. ‘Look at you, volunteering your weekends to drive around a bunch of high school drunks. You must really want to get into Harvard. I wonder…What else would you do to get into Harvard, Sean?’ Sean could feel a strange heat emanating from the forest. It was making him sweat. ‘I don’t know!’ Sean cried. The creature then emerged from the forest and Sean could see it clearly for the first time. In addition to its large, red eyes, it also had red scales, a wide, fanged smile, and foot-long, razor-sharp claws. It was human and beast in one, and it was staring right at Sean. ‘I can make it happen, Sean. That and so much more. All I ask is one thing…’ The creature pointed one of its claws at Brian. ‘Let me feast on your friend, and all of your hard work will pay off,’ purred the creature, the heat from its skin singeing the hairs on Sean’s arms. Sean looked at Brian. His breathing was growing more and more shallow, and he looked up at Sean with desperation. Slowly, Sean stood up and gazed into the red eyes of the terrible creature. The thing smiled at him, an impossibly wide smile that showed off multiple rows of fangs. Then, one step at a time, Sean walked back to his car. ‘Please…no…’ he heard Brian plead to his back. Sean got in his car and turned the engine on. In the rearview mirror, he saw the creature step out into the road beside Brian. It locked eyes with Sean and let out a victorious laugh, its mouth gaping up at the starless night sky, drinking it in. Sean then took a deep breath, shifted into reverse, and slammed on the accelerator. The creature’s laugh stopped suddenly as its red eyes focused on Sean’s car rapidly reversing in its direction. ‘No!’ The thing shrieked. SPLAT! Sean slammed on the breaks. He didn’t look back to see what damage he had done. He shifted into drive, and screeched up alongside Brian. He got out of the car and pulled Brian into the back seat. ‘Thank…you…’ said Brian. Not once looking back, Sean got in the driver’s seat and floored it in the direction of the hospital. Maybe he would get into Harvard. Maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t know. The only thing Sean did know was that tonight, he had looked the devil in the eyes. And he would never be the same.”
—J. Cole
On the scariest story he has ever heard
