Found some urban legends online :)
I'm gonna post some of them.
This is 'The Choking Doberman':
MY COUSIN and his wife lived in Sydney with this huge doberman in a little apartment off Maroubra Road. One night they went out for dinner and a spot of clubbing. By the time they got home it was late and my cousin was more than a little drunk. They got in the door and were greeted by the dog choking to death in the loungeroom.
My cousin just fainted, but his wife rang the veterinarian, who was an old family friend of hers, and got her to agree to meet her at the surgery. The wife drives over and drops off the dog, but decides that she'd better go home and get her hubby into bed.
She gets home and finally slaps my cousin into consciousness, but he's still drunk. It takes her almost half an hour to get him up the stairs, and then the phone rings. She's tempted to just leave it, but she decides that it must be important or they wouldn't be ringing that late at night. As soon as she picks up the phone, she hears the vet's voice screaming out:
"Thank God I got you in time! Leave the house! Now! No time to explain!" Then the vet hangs up.
Because she's such an old family friend, the wife trusts her, and so she starts getting the hubby down the stairs and out of the house. By the time they've made it all the way out, the police are outside. They rush up the front stairs past the couple and into the house, but my cousin's wife still doesn't have a clue what's going on.
The vet shows up and says, "Have they got him? Have they got him?"
"Have they got who?" says the wife, starting to get really pissed off.
"Well, I found out what the dog was choking on – it was a human finger."
Just then the police drag out a dirty, stubbly man who is bleeding profusely from one hand. "Hey Sarge," one of them yells. "We found him in the bedroom."
I'm gonna post some of them.
This is 'The Choking Doberman':
MY COUSIN and his wife lived in Sydney with this huge doberman in a little apartment off Maroubra Road. One night they went out for dinner and a spot of clubbing. By the time they got home it was late and my cousin was more than a little drunk. They got in the door and were greeted by the dog choking to death in the loungeroom.
My cousin just fainted, but his wife rang the veterinarian, who was an old family friend of hers, and got her to agree to meet her at the surgery. The wife drives over and drops off the dog, but decides that she'd better go home and get her hubby into bed.
She gets home and finally slaps my cousin into consciousness, but he's still drunk. It takes her almost half an hour to get him up the stairs, and then the phone rings. She's tempted to just leave it, but she decides that it must be important or they wouldn't be ringing that late at night. As soon as she picks up the phone, she hears the vet's voice screaming out:
"Thank God I got you in time! Leave the house! Now! No time to explain!" Then the vet hangs up.
Because she's such an old family friend, the wife trusts her, and so she starts getting the hubby down the stairs and out of the house. By the time they've made it all the way out, the police are outside. They rush up the front stairs past the couple and into the house, but my cousin's wife still doesn't have a clue what's going on.
The vet shows up and says, "Have they got him? Have they got him?"
"Have they got who?" says the wife, starting to get really pissed off.
"Well, I found out what the dog was choking on – it was a human finger."
Just then the police drag out a dirty, stubbly man who is bleeding profusely from one hand. "Hey Sarge," one of them yells. "We found him in the bedroom."
This is the legend of Wooly Swamp:
A psychological crazed rich man was living in a swamp. He bottled up his money and put it in the quicksand just outside his house. And every full moon, the money in the bottles would rise and he would dig it up, throw it on the floor, and roll in it. Then one night, a group of thugs decided they would beat the old man, throw his body into the quicksand, then steal his money. So they waited until the man dug up his money, walked into his house beat him up and threw him in the quicksand. They took all the money and ran outside when they realized they were sinking below the ground in quicksand. And as they were screaming for help, they could hear the old man laughing. To this day, if you go to Wooly Swamp on a full moon, you can still hear the men screaming and the old man laughing, because there is a quicksand spot that never dries up.
A psychological crazed rich man was living in a swamp. He bottled up his money and put it in the quicksand just outside his house. And every full moon, the money in the bottles would rise and he would dig it up, throw it on the floor, and roll in it. Then one night, a group of thugs decided they would beat the old man, throw his body into the quicksand, then steal his money. So they waited until the man dug up his money, walked into his house beat him up and threw him in the quicksand. They took all the money and ran outside when they realized they were sinking below the ground in quicksand. And as they were screaming for help, they could hear the old man laughing. To this day, if you go to Wooly Swamp on a full moon, you can still hear the men screaming and the old man laughing, because there is a quicksand spot that never dries up.
