{"id":2362,"date":"2020-12-05T03:45:56","date_gmt":"2020-12-05T03:45:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hauntedduluth.com\/twin-ports-terror\/?page_id=2362"},"modified":"2020-12-05T04:35:10","modified_gmt":"2020-12-05T04:35:10","slug":"deadlands-grill","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/hauntedduluth.com\/twin-ports-terror\/deadlands-grill\/","title":{"rendered":"Deadlands Grill"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Deadlands Grill<\/strong><\/div>
\u00a0<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

It was a dark and stormy night…I know, I know, that\u2019s how you start a scary story that you\u2019re <\/span>telling to children, but the fact is, that\u2019s exactly the kind of night it was. Here are the rest of the facts.<\/span><\/p>

It was just me and Skidmark Jim left at the grill when the stranger entered; everyone else had <\/span>already gone home, and you should thank their lucky stars that they did. Now, for the record, Skidmark Jim got that name in middle school when Frankie Rizzo claimed that Jim shit his pants watching a Freddy Krueger movie at a sleepover at his house. Jim always denied it, and Frankie was pretty much full of baloney himself, so no one ever really believed it. Plus, he tried to say that the poop bubbled up over the top of his pants and slid down his belt loops, which doesn’t even sound possible! The nickname stuck because children are kind of assholes, and since Jim never stopped associating with the same people from school, the name never went away. But this is less an account of Skidmark Jim\u2019s potential pants shitting history, and more of an account of what happened at the Deadlands Grill on the night of August 20th.<\/span><\/p>

It would have been a sleepy business night anyways, but the late night storm was responsible for killing off any hopes I had of making the last few hours profitable before we closed up. I was initially there just to do some bookkeeping, but I sent the hostess home when it started to both look and sound like Mother Nature was having a 4th of July celebration with rocket launchers instead of fireworks. Mary Jo was the only one who seemed upset about leaving early, which was probably because she was trying to save up for something special for her son\u2019s birthday. I told her I\u2019d put any tips I made in her jar, and she was happy enough with my offering. I always figured the owner shouldn’t be taking in tips anyways. I also figured Skidmark Jim and I could handle the zero customers I expected; plus, we hadn’t had a chance to catch up in a while.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cHey, Jim,\u201d I yelled back to the kitchen, \u201cif no one comes in by midnight we\u2019ll shut this bitch <\/span>down. I\u2019m not expecting anyone coming in from the bars if this storm keeps pounding away.\u201d He didn’t have any issues with that, and said he would come bullshit with me after he got the grill cleaned up and his kitchen in order. While Jim and I were school mates and ran in some of the same circles in our youth, we hadn\u2019t ever been really close. I went off to business school after high school, and Jim stuck around town not doing much of anything. Two years ago when I was getting ready to open the grill, Jim\u2019s application was one of the first to come across my desk. I hired him without doing an interview because I knew he\u2019d be reliable and put in an honest day\u2019s work, and he hasn’t proved me wrong. Some people would say that he lacks major motivation, but I would say that Skidmark Jim is a good egg.<\/span><\/p>

Half an hour later, Jim and I were sitting at the counter with a cold beer in our hands, observing what we thought was the storm of the century. The wind gushed back and forth at various speeds, moving the pine trees in and out of our line of sight as if they were taking a little ballroom dance lesson. Despite the unsettled nature of this gale, the rain was unchanging and heavy, and sounded like it might pierce right through our skin if we stepped outside the door. Lighting seemed to set the night ablaze every minute or less, and while the thunder wasn’t as consistent as the other forces, it scared the pants off of us every time it snuck in the mix. The deafening clamor sounded like it could be the sky announcing the arrival of God itself, or more appropriate, the devil.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cHey, Jim, remember back in high school when seven or eight of us were hanging out in Barney <\/span>Biscuit\u2019s basement and we all tried mushrooms for the first time?\u201d Jim laughed a little as he nodded. You could say he was a man of few words, and I felt I knew his laugh better than his voice. \u201cRemember just as we were all starting to trip balls Barney\u2019s sister turned the basement lights off from upstairs and we were all too scared to even get out of our seats and move around? I think we sat there for three or four hours freaking out in silence until Larry talked Barney into trying to get up and find the lights. But then he ended up falling over that f…\u201d<\/span><\/p>

I was first interrupted by another savage serving of thunder, this one so vehement it paralyzed my lips for a few seconds. We both looked to the window as if we were going to see this ear-splitting sound materialize into something unearthly. Just then, the sky lit up with a mix of sapphire and vermillion so striking, a guy like me couldn’t have dreamt it up if you gave him all the color palettes in the world to paint with. Before I could get back to my juvenile tale, a man, or something resembling one, appeared in the door.<\/span><\/p>

We were so occupied first with dumb stories, and then with the way the sky was illustrated, that <\/span>we failed to see him either pull up in a vehicle or approach the building by foot from the lot. We didn\u2019t even hear the harsh wind slam the door shut, or the little bell fixed atop of it jingle in the annoying yet purposeful manner it always will when anyone comes in or out. In a way, it was almost like he materialized out of the night.<\/span><\/p>

Jim silently jolted back into the kitchen to attend to his post like the dutiful burger flippin\u2019 soldier that he was. \u201cWelcome to the Deadlands Grill! Quite the Storm we are having, huh? Take a seat wherever you like; I\u2019ll grab you a menu.\u201d I reached towards the stack of two-page laminated full color menus near the register. The man nodded without his face going through the trouble of making any expression, and took the closest seat from the door at the counter. He was a fairly thin man, a few inches taller than Jim or I, and was adorned in nothing but pure black. Black boots and slacks, black gloves, a long black jacket and a black trilby hat. His wardrobe made his pale skin and faded hair stand out more than most people would care to let it. He had no other distinguishable features.<\/span><\/p>

I set a copy of our modest menu in front of the stranger as I asked what he wanted to drink. \u201cCoffee, black,\u201d he replied in a hushed tone. I assumed if anyone had just come inside from this raging storm they would be shook up to all hell\u2014or even just full of adrenaline depending on what their business being out there was\u2014but he seemed unaffected, like this tempest had been following him around all his life. The gentleman\u2019s listless demeanor was already making me feel uneasy. I glanced back to the kitchen at Skidmark Jim while I poured the coffee. His expression\u2014including raised brows and a lowered bottom lip\u2014signaled hat he was creeped out as well. If anyone had come in to the grill tonight we both would have bet any of our limbs on it being a local, and a regular at that. Not that we aren\u2019t friendly to strangers around here; we were just accustomed to routine and this stranger was anything but.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cBold choice,\u201d the stranger said slowly, tapping a thin gloved finger toward the top of the menu as I set his coffee down.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

\u201cThe Taco Salad? Oh, it\u2019s not that bad,\u201d I replied with a slightly awkward chuckle.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cNo, the name, Deadlands.\u201d He paused a bit. \u201cDo folks around here remember?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cWell, most of the locals know that was the name of the town at the end of the Wild West era, and that it was called something else before that even. I know they made the change to its current name around the time they started paving all the roads and putting up all the modern businesses and residential buildings and whatnot.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cWhat do you know of the old legends?\u201d He replied solemnly. Now, I always find it pretty <\/span>arousing to talk about those with the local eccentrics, but I desperately wanted to avoid any dialogue about that dreadful subject right now. I figured I better not blow the topic off completely, though; gotta keep the customer happy.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cYeah, I used to be fascinated with those stories when I was a kid. I suppose I don\u2019t know how <\/span>much of any of those tales I believe could be true as an adult.\u201d I let out another awkward chuckle. \u201cI named the grill out of some weird nostalgia I suppose…maybe a bit of a novelty for anyone passing through as well.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cNovelty,\u201d he echoed back. I don\u2019t think it was a question. I tried to change the topic. \u201cWhat can we cook up for you tonight?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cJust the coffee, but don\u2019t worry, I tip well and I won\u2019t be long. You folks probably intend to close up soon since there\u2019s no one here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cOh, we were planning on staying open until midnight, so don\u2019t go thinking you are any sort of <\/span>burden.\u201d The second part was becoming a full blown lie at this point.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cMidnight,\u201d he repeated back. \u201cThe witching hour.\u201d his face gave off what would be the closest <\/span>thing to an expression when he said those vexatious words. \u201cSo you heard the tale of the Shadow Rider then, when you were a kid?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

Shit. I really didn\u2019t want to talk about that one.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cYes, of course; that\u2019s one of the more popular myths from the Deadland times, although it\u2019s not <\/span>very pleasant.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cWhat do you know of it?\u201d He interrogated. I knew I wasn\u2019t getting out of this one, so I decided I\u2019d best indulge him. I mustered a little courage to help keep my professional composure and hide any trace of terror I was starting to accumulate towards this stranger and his benumbed sentiments.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cThey say the Shadow Rider came into town in the middle of the night during a huge storm, I <\/span>suppose one much like this one, and…\u201d I paused slightly to avoid choking on my own words. \u201cWell…he slaughtered a dozen or so men and was gone by morning.\u201d I noticed my gaze was adjusting itself to the swirling patterns in the tile floor, so I lifted it back to the stranger. \u201cThey say he wore black…looked like death…had a black horse too. They say he carried a long knife and never drew the pistols from his belt…just went into the saloon and, uh, cut everyone up except for the bartender and the working girls. The barkeep claimed all his patrons shot at the rider with every gun and every bullet they had, but no one could hit him. Said he left a trail of blood leading all the way to the next town over. That\u2019s the gist of what I know anyways.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

Another lie. I knew a lot more, but I felt I had already shared more than enough. I had an eerie <\/span>feeling that the stranger knew even more than I did, though.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cYeah, that\u2019s the one.\u201d He took a sip of his coffee. \u201cDo you know where that saloon was located?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cCan\u2019t say I do.\u201d The lies coming out of my mouth were really piling up now. Shit.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cPractically right here. Not exactly, but part of it sat where this building sits now.\u201d He turned his <\/span>head a little to the East wall. \u201cThe bar was over there.\u201d I sat silent for what seemed like forever, until he adjusted his gaze back to me. \u201cMost of your story was correct; the storm was a lot like this one. See, back then most of the men would stay at the saloon no matter what the weather, on account of there was a few rooms upstairs to rent for the night and nothing else to do if they did leave, so there were still thirteen men there, not counting the bar keep and the two prostitutes. The rider journeyed in from the Southern trail just before the witching hour.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

I tried as hard as I could not to glance at the clock on the wall as he continued to correct and add <\/span>to my morbid story.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cHe did dress all in black, and rode a black steed, no saddle or reigns. And he did carry a long <\/span>knife, you got that right too.\u201d He paused to slowly expand his arms out to show me the size of the blade. There was about three feet between his hands.<\/span><\/p>

I could feel a few beads of sweat forming on my brow, and just as I tried to casually wipe my <\/span>forehead, I noticed that the stranger was not even wet! There weren\u2019t even any watery footprints or muddy messes near the door where he walked in. Shit.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cHe didn\u2019t have any pistols, though. Never needed them. The men, how did you say it? Slaughtered them? There\u2019s no doubt about that. He gut most of those men from stomach to sternum. Cut a few of their heads clean off too. Did you ever hear that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cCan\u2019t say I have,\u201d I stammered in shock. I had always thought about keeping a shotgun under <\/span>the counter when I first bought this place. Seemed kind of risky, though, since I\u2019m not the gun type, so I never did. I found myself regretting it now. I wondered what Skidmark Jim was up to in the kitchen, but was too petrified to turn around and look. At least he has all the good knives back there, I mused. I doubted he would leap over the counter with a steak knife clenched between his teeth and pull some Rambo-like antics to save me if this whacked out stranger tried to cut my head clean off. He might have even snuck out the back door by now and ran like hell. I wouldn\u2019t blame him if he did. Shit. Double shit.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

The stranger continued his unnerving tale. I kept listening because I didn\u2019t have much of a choice, did I? \u201cOh, it\u2019s true. The saloon patrons all dug for their cannons after the first of them lay on the dirt floor all sliced to hell. They unloaded every bullet they had, just like you said, but it was like <\/span>trying to shoot the wind.\u201d As he was saying this, he made the fingers on his right hand into the shape of a gun and pointed it to the ceiling, motioning his thumb like the hammer after a shot is fired. He repeated the motion a few times, his face remaining expressionless. \u201cThey even threw their mugs and tried to hit him with liquor bottles; hell, some of them even chucked their eatin\u2019 irons at him. None of it did any good.\u201d He took another sip of his coffee. I didn\u2019t know if I should be anticipating or fearing the end of his story.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cThe prostitutes hid behind the counter with the barkeep, but you were right that none of them <\/span>were harmed. By the time the clock struck midnight, all thirteen men were eviscerated, beheaded or both. Guts were strung around the overturned stools and heads rolled around the flipped up tables.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cSounds like it was quite the sight to behold,\u201d I chimed in timidly, hoping he might lose his place and wrap things up. I wasn\u2019t so lucky.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cIt was. You could have gone for a nice swim in the blood. They could have considered burning <\/span>the place down and starting a new bone orchard right there. Maybe they did. That\u2019s when they changed the name to Deadlands, though, I believe. You were wrong about the Shadow Rider leaving a trail of blood all the way to the next town. He left a big tip for the bartender and them whores before he rode off, but a trail of blood? That sounds downright silly if I do say.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

Sure, I thought to myself, real fucking silly. Right up there with Bozo the Clown and the Three <\/span>Stooges. I finally relaxed enough to check out the clock. It was 11:59pm. I tried to casually wipe a little more sweat from my soon-to-be-murdered face. I hoped I would still get an open casket funeral so my friends could see that I still looked pretty decent for my age. Shit. Double shit. Triple shit.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cYou know\u2026\u201d He trailed off, and the prospect of what his next words were going to be started to dissolve when I noticed he was putting his right hand into his coat. Shit. I had zero clues about how to react in this situation. Was he going to pull out a three foot knife? Was he going to eviscerate me or <\/span>behead me? Or both? Should I start running now? Should I try to use my soft body with hardly any core strength to tackle him? Thankfully, before I could have a full blown panic attack, he withdrew his arm. The only thing he produced in his hand was a hundred dollar bill, which he gently placed on the counter. \u201cIt\u2019s a shame there wasn\u2019t any other customers in here tonight.\u201d Those were his last words as he rose up and turned for the door.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

\u201cDo you need some change?\u201d I questioned in the voice of a man who was sure he just had a near death experience and was ecstatic to be the exact opposite of worm food. He never answered me, of course.<\/span><\/p>

Just as the door shut behind him, all the sights and sounds of the storm withdrew. No more gushing rain. No more wild bursts of wind. No more ear-splitting thunder. There was one more burst of lightning that lit up the parking lot. I hoped to see the direction the stranger was heading in, or see what kind of vehicle he was driving, but I saw nothing. I swear to any God you want that I heard the sound of a horse neighing and clip-clopping away, but it\u2019s also possible that I was just driven insane. I turned to the kitchen to see if Skidmark Jim heard it too, but he wasn\u2019t there. Shit.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cHey, boss?\u201d Skidmark Jim\u2019s voice rang out in the direction I just turned away from, and my heart skipped a beat as I twitched back around.<\/span><\/p>

\u201cHoly underwear, Jim! You almost scared the piss right out of my junk just now!\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u201cSorry, boss. Say, everything is all cleaned up on my end, so I\u2019m gonna head home.\u201d I could tell he was pretty rattled and didn\u2019t want to discuss anything that just happened. He might never want to, and I wouldn\u2019t blame him.<\/span><\/p>

As I was stuffing the hundred dollar bill in Mary Jo\u2019s tip jar, I noticed Jim was waddling to the <\/span>door clenching his legs together.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

I\u2019ll be damned! I thought. It really can bubble out over the top of your pants and slide down your belt loops!<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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“Deadlands Grill”<\/span><\/div>
by Cory Jezierski<\/span><\/span><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Cory Jezierski is a real human person and definitely not an empty husk of a person inhabited by extraterrestrial beings or supernatural forces that guide his every action, which sucks for him.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Deadlands Grill\u00a0 It was a dark and stormy night…I know, I know, that\u2019s how you start a scary story that you\u2019re telling to children, but the fact is, that\u2019s exactly the kind of night it was. Here are the rest of the facts. It was just me and Skidmark Jim left at the grill when …<\/p>\n

Deadlands Grill<\/span> Read More »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2362","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nDeadlands Grill - Twin Ports Terror<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/hauntedduluth.com\/twin-ports-terror\/deadlands-grill\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Deadlands Grill - Twin Ports Terror\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Deadlands Grill\u00a0 It was a dark and stormy night…I know, I know, that\u2019s how you start a scary story that you\u2019re telling to children, but the fact is, that\u2019s exactly the kind of night it was. 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