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Christmas Eimertoons - Starting Dec. 16

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Night Run

My eyes popped open from my deep sleep. I looked over at the clock. It was 3:20 a.m.

The stress of buying a new home, changing jobs and being a literary success took its toll on my brain. 

After tossing and turning in bed for an hour and a half, I thought to myself, "Fuck it, I’m going on a run."

I quietly skirted out of my bed, tip-toed around the house to grab my running gear and quietly slipped out of the house.  

Like a chef walking into a meat freezer, a cool breeze hit my face and took my breath away. I stared in awe at the darkened Bath night.

“Where are you UFO’s?” I thought to myself. “Will I ever see you before I die?”

With that last thought, I hopped into the car, clicked on the ignition and slowly careened out of my driveway.

I pulled into Bath Nature Preserve around 3:50 a.m. for an impromptu illegal run (hours are from dawn to dusk). So here I was. The darkness enveloped the entire sky. The skitters and scampers of little forest creatures could be heard in the distance. But that was it. The air was still. I could see my breath misting in the cool air.

To be honest, I was a bit creeped out.

“Maybe I’ll just get back in the car and drive over to the high school and do a couple laps on the track,” I thought to myself.

“Pffft,” the little Eimer devil whispered on my shoulder. “Are you really going to be that big of a pussy?”

“Nooo,” I said to my evil doppelganger, then pulled a 180. “Fuck it, I’m already here. What’s the worse thing that could happen?”

I could die. Gulp!

Thankfully, I had my trusty Energizer Headlamp with four unique shine frequencies, including infrared lens. Yeah, it was dark, but I would be safe and sound as long as my headlamp remained on for my 3.5-mile night run.

"Right?"

I set my watch and took off down the dark grainy path. In the distance to East, I saw the slightest spit of  light from the Fairlawn shopping center. No sign of the sun trying to pull itself out of the darkness. Too early I guessed.

The trail took me through a field. 

I felt a slight tickling at my back and thought about the 'thing' from JEEPERS CREATURES. The thing that could fly in the air. The thing with the cowboy hat. The thing with the dusty MATRIX-like coat. The thing that likes to use people’s bones to create an altar.

Anticipating an aerial assault, I lurched my neck back and forth shining the light from here to there. No JEEPERS. No CREEPERS. 

I continued to run and cut off down a gravel hill, which connected to a rough the horse trail - a trail that was separated to the right by a huge pillar of pine trees and oaks and horse pastures to the left. I noticed a huge mansion, outdoor lights glowing in the distance. Yeah, I was in Bath after all.

I descended the hill and my near-sightedness kicked into high gear as I noticed a black spot down the way. The blur became the creature from XTRO, the alien creature that dropped from the sky and raped a woman with its mouth. A horror that still haunts me to this day. I ignored the lump of whatever on the ground. It may have hissed at me. I picked up my steps and glided by the creature before it could impregnate me with its nasty-eating orifice.

The horse trail careened up a hill. My breathing deeper and shallower, I huffed and puffed up a like the Little Engine That Could; the flashlight on my head bobbing up and down, up and down illuminating the ground in a wobbly, almost-BLAIR WITCH PROJECT-type of cinema verite.

I ran up a forty-five degree incline near the natural gas pump, one of six that lay in the Bath Nature Preserve. To my left, a strange formation stepped out of the woods, it looked to me like the possessed goat in DRAG ME TO HELL. I remembered the white eyes. The satanic look. The immediate hunger for human flesh. My heart began to race as I passed the creature that lay before me...

...only a deer.

It gave out a snort and took off into the woods. That’s when I felt my heart beating more than the required 200 beats per minute. The buck snorted, once again, and shot off into another section of the woods. 

I hung a left down an old grassy trail, which connected, back again with the main running trail, and approached an old wooden bridge.

In the darkness, it almost appeared like a moat bridge from CASTLE GREYSKULL inviting me to commiserate with the likes of He-Man, Man-At-Arms, Beast Man and, more importantly, She-Ra to discuss the political situations with Skeletor on Planet Eternia over a pint of mead.

Then, my mind immediately shifted to think the story of BILLY GOATS GRUFF; more importantly the troll that lurked beneath the bridge. "Could there be a troll underneath this bridge?" I thought as I clopped, clopped, clopped underneath the wooden slats, I overheard the stream gently bubbling underneath my feet. 

Then I heard a rustle. Then I did a 180-degree turn and high-tailed it off the bridge back to the trial and up the hill. I imagined the angry CAVE TROLL from THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING, pulling itself from the wooden bridge, goblins by its side, as it ripped and tore the sides of the bridge and quickly reached the nape of my neck.

I yanked my head back. Nothing. I let out a sigh and continued on my journey.

About two miles into my run, I was getting into my groove. Heart beat at 180 or slightly higher, half a yard steps, even breathing and a nice 9:00 pace (hey, I’m not trying to break any world records, here). The darkness grew more ominous as I entered an overlap of trees and slightly into the denser forest.

I heard a faint rustle in the woods to my right. I shined the light into the weeds. Deep in the distance a faint shadow appeared. Memories of AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON shot through my skull. The scene where the man is heading up the escalator and scans down the steps to see the hulking werewolf slowly, almost casually, heading toward its prey.

Which reminded me of a story...

When I was a little kid, we had two sets of stairs in our house. The first set of steps ran up from the kitchen and pantry into the upstairs bedroom, which I shared with my brother. Every single time I walked down those steps I was convinced a demonic Gladiator Centaur with bow and arrow in hand was going to shoot out of the attic door, pull three of four fiery arrows from his sheath and, in a machine gun cadence, proceed to shoot them towards my back. Convinced this was going to happen, I always sprinted down the steps like a boy possessed.

The second set of steps headed down into the basement. The steps had openings beneath each step. No carpet, no wood, just functional steps. Going down into the basement was never a problem. However, heading upstairs, was a big problem. I was convinced that as I reached the sixth set of steps, the WEREWOLF from THE HOWLING was going to shoot his hand through the open slats, snatch my ankle and squeeze with all its might. Convinced this was going to happen, I always bounded up the basement steps like a boy possessed – as well. "Why do you do that?!!" my mother would always scream.

Back to the night run...

My pace quickened. My blood pressure felt like it shot up another 10 points. Goosebumps covered my entire body anticipating a strike from the beast in the woods. However, after another inspection with my trusty light, the shadow revealed itself to be a large boulder. Phew! Instant death diverted once again.

I careened off the bike path and onto a dirt, running trail past a gargantuan steel dragon. The JABBERWOCKY from Alice in Wonderland???!!!! No, only the steel pulsing of a gas well going up and down, up and down. Chugging gas from the ground up into its steel basin.

The trail careened into an even darker forested umbrella. Blackness covered me like a cold blanket of Death. I clicked the highest shine function on my Energizer Headlamp.

The crunch of my steps on the hard pebbles and rocks was the only sound echoing into the eerie, wooded terror land. I thought of the movie PUMPKINHEAD. The green creature spawned by hate from some section of hell. I thought about the CENOBITES from HELLRAISER, led by Pinhead, the unflinching psychopaths from Hades. The  things that wanted to tear your soul apart. I glanced over into what I knew was an empty, dried up bog. For an instant, I thought I saw the menacing creatures waiting in the woods. Waiting for me to slightly step off the trail so they could tear my body from limb to limb, ripping each and every piece of my body until only a puddle of blood remained.

I closed my eyes. “Just movies,” I said to myself. “Only movies.” I opened my eyes and the creatures were gone.

Again, wanting this run to be over, I quickened my pace once again as I set up another hill, which turned slightly into a concrete path before opening up into a field of wheat, or hay, or simply tall grass. I wasn’t sure. I ran into a plume of fog, which slightly cooled my body. It felt like I was running into a thousand deathly souls roaming the Earth.

For a moment I was expecting the creature DARKNESS from the movie LEGEND to come through the fog, through the smoke; inserting his scabbard hand into my heart and ripping it into pieces.

This was supposed to be a 30-minute repast during my day. It was supposed to be my relaxing three-mile run. Instead, it was my own personal internal hell. My own personal demons terrorizing my every step.

Which reminds me...

Sometimes during my run, I think about death. I think about possibly dying when I’m older on one of these trails. Will my body be found? Will it lie there and slowly decay for years and years? What will people think when they come upon it?

Sometimes, even during my day runs, I look back and imagine a black figure gliding effortlessly through the trail, 50 yards or so behind me, matching my pace, waiting, anticipating that moment when I trip, my heart skips, I have a stroke or I simply stop breathing.

Back on the trail...

I came around the turn and approached a ubiquitous shadow; a blurry figure walking closer to me. This was the time that I wished for my glasses, or contacts or the fucking Lasik eye surgery. Anything for me to focus on the image in front of me.

Was this my time? Was this my death?  Was that the GRIM REAPER from THE MEANING OF LIFE with his long scythe waiting patiently for me to finish my run. Waiting patiently to take me away from my family, my kids and my not-so-bad life?

“Excuse me,” the creature said. Only it wasn’t a creature.

“Huh,” I said startled as I slowed to a brief walk, then stopped in front of the man’s face. He was an older gentleman, about 60 or 65. A just-as-old golden retriever stood next to him panting a rather jolly pant.

“Do you know how to get back to the main bike trail?”

I nodded and pointed in the direction I came. “Follow this loop and it will take you back to the trail.”

“Thank you so much,” the man said petting the top of his dog’s head. An odd two-second silence whisked between us. My mind started again. I imagined a knife in his back pocket. I imagined the OLDER GENTELMAN from the movie LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. The guy who killed in order to accumulate fresh blood for his young vampire princess. I took a slight step back from the man and the dog, which looked a bit angrier from the last second I looked at him.

“A little creepy out at this time of day, eh?” asked the old man.

I nodded.

“Your mind can play some crazy tricks on you that’s for sure” he said.

“You’re telling me,” I said. “Be careful.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” the old man laughed and patted his loyal dog on top of the head. “That’s why I have her to protect me.”

I looked at the dog and through about my dog, Otto; a loyal Rottweiler-Doberman mix that was the best dog in the world.

“Well, have a good run,” the old man smiled and started on his way. “And thank you.”

“You too,” I said and headed off to my car.

During my half-mile run back to my car, I thought about the old man. I thought about the ghosts and goblins that tormented my mind. I thought about my life, my dreams, my family and my job.

I thought about all the scary things that this world can throw at you day in and day out. And all of the things on this Earth that can just as easily take you away from it all.

I thought about my mother whispering in my ear before heading off to school. “Heck, every time you step outside of your house, you can get killed,” she said. “Just think of all the ways you can die in a day...”

For some reason those comments have stuck in my mind.

Today, I was able to outrun and outfox Pumpkinhead, the Cave Troll, the American Werewolf in London, the grim specter of Death and other creatures lingering and lurking in the back of my brain.

Tomorrow, I may not be so lucky.

Maybe I’ll go on an afternoon run instead.

Pro Bono Work

Here's some pro bono work I did for my buddy. And by 'pro bono' I mean 'company too cheap to pay me'.

At least my buddy is buying me something. Plus, it was a fun four hours during my last day of work.

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Reservoir Amish

I noticed this image online and just couldn't resist. Special thanks to AP Photographer Tony Dejak for the inspiration and great photograph. At least I hope he'll find it amusing.

From Genius to Dipshit in One Signature.

Ahh, The roller coaster ride that is life. The peaks and valleys. The knowledge shared. And the knowledge learned.

Oh the places you'll go, and tons of places  that you never imagined you would see.

As I leap into my 40^th year on this planet, dear reader, I have a small confession to make. Although I’ve owned plenty of cars and other merchandise, I’ve never owned a home.

Yes, I’m a renter. Whew. That wasn't so bad.

Yep, throughout my college years and beyond, I’ve probably signed about 10+ different renter’s leases in my lifetime.

Truth be told, I’ve never felt the ‘need’ to own a house. It seemed a little scary. A little intimidating. A little set in stone.

I sort of liked the idea that – in less than a month's time - I could pick up stakes and move anywhere in the world that I wanted to move. Puerto Rico. Arizona. New Hampshire. California. Oregon. Any fucking where.

Well, in a couple of weeks, that’s all about to change.

My wife and I have found the perfect home in beautiful (not as rustic) Hudson, Ohio. For the past five years we’ve lived across the valley in Bath, Ohio - former home(s) of Lebron James and Jeffrey Dahmer and, well, now myself.

I've loved living in Bath for the past five years. Great running trails. Fantastic neighbors. And pretty good food. Plus, I’ve had the privilege of having all of the homeowner’s duties minus the headache of a mortgage and repairs.

It’s been really nice.

So, how do I feel about all of this? Well, after I sign my John Hancock on the dotted line about 100 times, I’ll proceed to transform myself from a successful professional in the advertising industry into a pretty fucking, stupid idiot.

Please, let me explain.

In my 40 years on this Earth, I’ve come across a number of knowledge thresholds. Before I entered eighth grade, I thought I knew everything about life. I thought there wasn't anything that I could learn that would help me to make an impact on this Earth.

Nope. I was wrong. In fact, I realized I was pretty dumb.

I also became more dumb the day after my high school graduation. Also, the first quarter of classes at Ohio State. Also, upon my graduation from Ohio State. And, oh yes, also during my first ‘official’ job after college.

Each and every time, I thought I knew everything about life and, like a bad joke, I would be struck down my God himself who would laugh at my overall lack of knowledge at each of these thresholds achieved.

After every achievement comes the fact that you really don’t know jack shit. It's all a facade. And this next stage of Eimer's 'ignorance evolution' is going to be all about home ownership.

You see, most of my other friends and family members have owned homes for years. They’ve gained important DIY (do-it-yourselfer) knowledge like laying tile and hardwood floors, changing toilets, hanging drywall, running electrical cords and even something as simple as putting up a ceiling fan.

With the exception of landscaping, I’m pretty ignorant when it comes to a number of these home ownership-type things. Well, most of them.

But...and this is a big but....I’m willing to learn, which is always a beautiful thing. And, if I ever find myself in a pinch, I'll just look it up on YouTube..they have answers to everything. Or I'll pay a contractor, which is what most websites recommend anyhow.

So, the day after we sign all the paperwork (whenever that may be), my older brother - a home owner for well over 20 years - will accompany me into my new home where we will remove doors, sand and polyurethane hardwood floors, lay carpet, balance the air conditioning unit and, yes, hang ceiling fans.

It’s my orientation, of sorts, into the world of home ownership. It’s my turn to ‘man up’ and take control of these small, but pricey, projects that spawn up around the house. You know, the stuff that I paid a landlord to do on a semi-monthly basis for the past 20+ years.

So, to paraphrase the late, great Neil Armstrong:

"It’s one small step for a new homeowner, one giant leap for the city of Hudson, Ohio."

Eh, fuck that, let's paraphrase Spider-Man:

"With great home ownership comes great responsibility."

Bring it on.

Big 4-0? Ain't Nuthin But a G' Thang (sort of)

Back in 2005, my wife-to-be announced that she was pregnant with our daughter.

During the 10 seconds following her not-so-shocking announcement, I didn't think about the wonder of life that was growing inside her belly. Nor did I think about getting a normal job or even visiting Amazon.com to purchase the most-recent publication of  What to Expect When You're Expecting.

Nope. Instead, I played the 'Add 20' game.

I immediately added 20 years to my life in order to see how old I was going to be when my children would be out of the house.

I know. I know. This may sound terrible and a bit selfish. Many will say that I'm 'totally missing the point of having a kid completely', which I'll 100% agree.

But I digress. The 'Add 20' game had me at about 55 years old. Not too shabby. It's old enough to be able to start stock-piling money for my eventual retirement at age 90. And it's young enough to start scratching things off of my bucket list.

Which leads me to my birthday. On July 6, I was fortunate enough to reach the young age of 40.

I'm nut sure what the hub-bub is all about. Turning 40 is really, truly no big deal. Well, a little I guess.

Minus some slight lower back pain, some doctors would say that I'm better shape than I was at 21. And I'll tend to agree. I've cut down on my drinking. I exercise almost every single day. I drink V8, homemade fruit smoothies and wheat grass every other day. I watch my sodium, I eat more vegetables and fruits. And, surprisingly, I'm slowly but surely retiring a number of fast food joints from my list-including my most recent retirement, Chick-Fil-A.

Back in the day (circa 1920) 40 was a point in your life that you simply shrugged off and continued working until you basically dropped at the ripe, old age of 57 years old (if you were fortunate enough to be a white male).

Now, in 2012, this ceremonial birthday serves as a crossroad, a halfway point of one's life. A time to ruminate about everything that you've achieved. Graduation from Ohio State, two marathons, marriage, two healthy kids, a self-published novella of mediocre short horror stories and a cartoon published in Hustler come to mind.

It's also a time to put the remainder of this crazy thing called life in perspective and think about where you want to be as you travel down this old, dusty (and bumpy) road...

...and to play the 'Plus 20' game yet again. But this time for real.

I've written in the past about the number of vacations that I, probably, have left in my lifetime. Well, in addition to the 'Plus 60' clock and the 'Vacation' clock, I've also added the 'Countdown to 60' clock.

Deep in the caverns of my mind and soul, which I probably won't share with the world right now until they come to fruition, I've laid out a number of personal challenges to myself. Things that I would like to see come to fruition before I turn 60 (or Plus 20, as I like to say this year).

These challenges are personal goals and dreams. Some are modest (To be interviewed by Oprah Winfrey for some sort of achievement). Some are selfish (To be interviewed by Howard Stern for some sort of achievement). Some of these goals are for the good of my family (pay off our house, pay for my kid's college). And some of these ideas have to do with seeing a little bit more of the world before my knees go out, my liver goes kaput and I'm stuck in some god-for-saken rest home staring out the window wondering where the hell my life went.

You know, those type of goals.

However, as it turns out, one of those 'Plus 20' goals will come to fruition in two days.

As I've recently wrote about in various posts, I'm an avid hiker. Having scrambled most of the Applachian Trail in Virginia as well as some parts of Tennessee, North Carolina, Pennsylvania and New Jersey - I've always wanted to visit one of the wildest, craziest parts of the Appalachian Trail...The White Mountains. It's a place I've always yearned to venture, but never had the funds to achieve.

Tuesday, Aug. 7, I will fly out to New Hampshire to hike Mount Washington via the Appalachian Trail on a three-day trek from Crawford Notch to Pinkham Notch. Also, we (myself and a couple of my fellow kick-ass hiker buddies) will also hit the Franconia Notch Trail - a 8.5 loop that is supposed to also kick ass. We'll see.

This trip will mark one of the many exciting things that I have planned for myself and my family over the next 20 years, which includes traveling, writing, running, publishing, drawing and fixing up my home.

Ironically, 'Work more hours' isn't on this list. However, 'Innovative ways to make more money' is.

You know, some people say that 'Age is a State of Mind'. After turning 40, I totally agree.

I mean, I still feel like that snot-nosed kid who bought his first 12-pack of Natural Light at a 7-Eleven in Wheeling when he was 17 years old. And hell yeah it was with a fake ID that I made myself.

Hmmm? Yet another achievement to ruminate upon during this exciting year.