So this reader submission came in the other day with a note that said, “I know this isn’t really a story about a ghost or mythical creature, but I thought it was weird enough for your site. This happened to me about five years ago and I still think of it often. Let me know what you think!”
When I read the story, I was shocked. Elma, the woman who submitted the story, had no idea she actually had a much weirder encounter than she knew…
Jacob Bartholomew
As I sit here, reflecting on the myriad of first dates I’ve experienced in my lifetime, one particular memory stands out like a sore thumb, vivid and unforgettable. It was the date with Chuck Wudgie, a man I met through a dating website.
Chuck seemed like an intriguing character from the start. His profile picture hinted at a rugged charm, and our chats were filled with banter and shared interests. When we agreed to meet for dinner at a fancy restaurant after chatting for about a week online, my heart was aflutter with anticipation and nerves.
I was seated first at the restaurant, and waited for his arrival with bated breath. From the moment I saw him, I knew this wasn’t going to be an ordinary night. Clad in a trench coat that seemed to swallow his frame, he stumbled into the restaurant with all the grace of a newborn foal. His awkward gait should have been my first clue that this date was about to take a bizarre detour.
As he approached the table, I braced myself for the customary hug hello. But as our bodies met, I couldn’t shake the unsettling sensation of lumps and bumps beneath his coat. His arms, encased in sleeves seemingly too long for him, struggled to reach me, and his head appeared comically small in proportion to his height.
Despite these peculiarities, our conversation flowed effortlessly. We delved into topics ranging from the splendor of the woodlands to our mutual love for hiking. But even as we bonded over shared interests, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.
As the waiter placed a basket of bread on the table and asked for our drink orders, I could have sworn I saw a small hand dart out from beneath Chuck’s coat, snatching a piece with furtive precision. And as the meal progressed, the sound of munching from within his jacket grew louder, punctuated by the occasional muffled sneeze, to which Chuck would promptly respond with a heartfelt “God bless you.”
Summoning all my courage, I broached the subject that had been gnawing at me all evening. “Are you perhaps two or three small men stacked upon one another?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Chuck’s vehement denial only fueled my suspicions, but he deftly changed the subject, suggesting we take a leisurely stroll along the pier.
The walk, though pleasant, only served to deepen the mystery surrounding Chuck. His attempts at intimacy were marred by a noticeable lack of balance, as he swayed from side to side, trying to hold my hand while keeping his footing.
Yet, against all reason, I found myself falling for his charms. As he leaned in for a kiss, I couldn’t help but succumb to the allure of the moment. But just as our lips met, disaster struck. Chuck lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, revealing two other men crammed within the confines of his coat.
“I knew it!” I exclaimed, my heart pounding with a mixture of shock and vindication. But Chuck remained steadfast in denial, stating that I was crazy as he got himself back together, brushing off both the dust from the ground and my accusations with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Against my better judgment, I allowed myself to be swept away by the tide of passion that engulfed us. As we made love in a hotel room that night, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Chuck was actually three small men rather than one tall drink of water.
I faded off to sleep that night with whispers of sweet nothings in my ear as he rubbed both of my sore feet at the same time. He promised me the world, then in a slightly different voice that I’ll always remember said “or at least a phone call.”
By morning’s light, I found myself alone, save for an empty trench coat draped over the bed, a cruel reminder of the charade that had unfolded the night before. On the nightstand lay a note, penned in what looked like a child’s handwriting.
“My dear Elma,” it read, words heavy with finality. “I cannot stay with you. We are just too different and would never work. You have to learn to trust people, and not accuse them of actually being three small men stacked on top of each other.”
And with that, Chuck Wudgie vanished from my life as suddenly as he had entered it, leaving behind nothing but memories and unanswered questions. Even his profile had been removed from the dating site. As I reflect on that fateful first date, I can’t help but wonder: was I crazy or was that guy really three tiny men stacked upon one another? I guess I still have a lot to learn about trust.
Elma Pellitier
From what I know of Wompanoag folklore Elma, I’m pretty sure the creature you went on a date with was a Pukwudgie, as were the two friends he was no doubt hiding under that jacket. These little guys are very mischievous and are known to measure about 2 to 3 feet in height. They often vanish as soon as they get what they want, which sounds like what happened that night. Furthermore, if you analyze the name he used, Chuck Wudgie, it kind of sounds like Pukwudgie, no?
If you have a story you would like to submit for publication on our site, please email us at [email protected] and we’ll take a look at it. I do some editing to ensure it’s up to our standards and to make myself feel worthy of a paycheck, but I do not change anything pertinent to the story as a whole. Thanks for reading!
