Cryptid hunters often face the accusation that we’re wasting time chasing something that doesn’t exist. The idea is that when we investigate a creature, there is a real possibility that we’ll find its legend to be the result of a complex series of social and psychological processes, and instead of discovering a novel species, we often uncover more about how stress can warp the senses and how stories mutate over time. This is largely true; in science, you don’t get to choose the ontology behind a phenomenon, only parse it out. There’s just no way to predict what you’ll be learning. That’s why it’s clearly better to spend your weekends watching reality TV than studying Native American folklore. Because when you keep up with the Kardashians, you know exactly what you’re going to learn: nothing.
So while I do admit that it’s a waste of time diving into why Slavic peoples are, to this day, utterly convinced that the dead rise to haunt them as vampires, when you could instead be binging Real Housewives for the umpteenth time, maybe some cryptids are more of a time-waster than others.
You see, while it’s conceivable that the idea of humans turning into animals being ubiquitous across numerous cultures won’t actually reveal some critical insights into symbolic language and the universal human experience, and it’s technically possible that a wide array of independent peoples, upon contact with forest and mountain ecosystems not yet stripped down by human activity, invariably reporting a humanoid ape-creature with consistent behaviour patterns, even capturing photo, video, and audio evidence when those technologies are available, somehow doesn’t actually constitute evidence that such a creature plainly exists, there is a cryptid whose existence cannot be denied. Let’s talk about cable gremlins.
A few days ago, a colleague of mine was attacked by the cable gremlins. As you may know, we’re getting ready to launch our series of podcasts exploring the topics you love in an accessible format. Well, that means setting up our recording studio, of course. Naturally, such a recording studio requires sound equipment to be hooked up to a computer, and I’m sure you see where this is going.
I wasn’t there to witness the attack. Had I been, I’m not sure I would be in a state of mind sound enough to relay this account to you. You may have heard about cable gremlins before. If you have, I’m sure their mischievous reputation precedes them. They tangle cords and make wiring a mess, delaying or even derailing projects of an electric nature. They reduce effective productivity and slow progress to a pitiful crawl. That much is obvious. What you may not be aware of, however, is that they have a darker side.
In his landmark interview, paranormal investigator and cryptid hunter Twitch Flippant released his first public statement on the cable gremlins, breaking the habitual silence that has settled on the topic since the creatures first began menacing the world of electricians and computer nerds. He had commented that the cable gremlins were less outright hostile, and more of a playful nuisance. He may come to regret those words.
Last Friday, Twitch found himself in a physical altercation with the elusive creatures. In the course of wiring some sound equipment under a desk, he found his efforts delayed by their shenanigans as usual. That’s to be expected, so far so good. What he could have expected was what happened next. As he was untangling the knots, an effort that often requires more force than you might expect, the knot gave suddenly, releasing the tension in his body, causing his head to slam into the desk.
Reeling from the decisive blow, he struggled to regain his posture. In retrospect, that could only be described as a mistake. In reorienting himself, his head moved quickly away from the source of the collision… right into something else. He hit his head again, this time from the other side. I suppose misery loves company in anatomy as much as any other context. But the gremlins weren’t done. You see, this insidious trap had a third layer. This time, he knew well to refrain from moving his head, as that would only invite a further strike against the seat of his soul. Instead, he cleverly moved his arm back to counterbalance himself. Yes, quite clever… but not quite clever enough.
The creatures had predicted his every move. As his arm swung back to spare his cranium further injustice, it had unfortunately suffered a collision of its own. The cable gremlins shifted their angle of attack, this time focusing their destructive might on his extremity. And as I’m sure you can guess, this was not an unskilled attack. The foul entities had targeted the nerve of his elbow with such an acute precision that it would make the likes of Paris blush.
And much like Achilles, Twitch would be punished for his hubris and overconfidence with an ironic comeuppance. For having the audacity to plug some microphones into a computer, he was brought as low as the son of Peleus himself, and likely spent the next few seconds on his belly eating dust. However, like the Achæans before him, he had managed victory nonetheless, and the studio should soon be operational.
So, if any of you are dealing with cable gremlins, be warned. They may be more dangerous than you were previously led to believe. There was an incident a few weeks ago where they may have been wiggling my fan’s cord just far enough out of socket to mess with the electric system. I mean, it could have just been an old plug that doesn’t fit the prongs anymore, but it’s not not like you can prove the cable gremlins weren’t responsible. Treat these vile shades as you would the proverbial robots. Keep your eyes peeled; they’re everywhere.
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