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March 15, 2012

A detailed account of my spooky night in Whitney Houston's mansion. Not for the faint of heart (aka pussies).

I am a very lucky individual indeed! Back in January, I won a $20,000,000 lawsuit against Ted Turner after I escaped his sex dungeon along with six Koreans. With the money I won, I decided to purchase Whitney Houston’s mansion after the late great singer passed away in February.  And for only $1.75 million bucks! The real estate agency told me the mansion was great memorabilia and the shenanigans Bobby Brown and Whitney did on Being Bobby Brown provided plenty of conversation starters! After I moved in the home however, I realized the mansion was HAUNTED. Here is the log that I began at 5:00 PM on March 1st, 2012.

5:00 PM: Heard shaking in the basement. I turned on the lights and went into the cellar. Saw pallets upon pallets of unsold Being Bobby Brown DVDs. There was no one in the basement.

6:30 PM: My meal of baby seal was interrupted when my 120 inch plasma LCD 3D HD DSL hologram just plain badass television came to life and played The Bodyguard. There was a familiar female voice complimenting on Whitney’s acting and commenting on how much of a letdown Kevin Costner was in the sack.

7:45 PM: The TV refused to turn itself off, so I wore my chinchilla ear muffs to block out “I Will Always Love You”. After a few minutes, the room began to smell of crack. I took off my ear muffs. I heard rumbling in the basement again.

9:00 PM: After an hour of masturbating to The Bodyguard, the rumblings from the cellar began to affect my whacking off, so I decided zip up and check it out again. I turned on the lights and barely caught a glimpse of a low figured silhouette crawling behind a pallet of DVDs.  I go upstairs and grabbed my rifle I use to hunt elephants for their precious ivory. I walked around the cellar, with my gun ready to fire, when I discovered the half eaten rotten remains of Elvis, Tupac, and Biggie Smalls.

10:30 PM: After playing Frisbee with her platinum records trying to knock her Grammys off the shelf, I decided to go to bed. The smell of crack became stronger and stronger.

11:00 PM: I woke up and see a horrible, disgusting face above my face, staring straight into my eyes with its malicious eyes. It was Bobby Brown. He hopped off the bed towards the window, which illuminated his figure. He essentially looked like Gollum. He sniffed the air then pulled something out of his pocket. He bellowed ‘My precious’ and proceeded to smoke his crack pipe. I ran down the stairs with fresh shit staining my dachshund fur underwear. I looked back and saw Bobby Brown crawling down the stairs with a lead pipe in his right hand ready to crack my skull open. I opened the front door and saw Whitney Houston with a ghostly white aura surrounding her figure. Thinking ‘fuck this shit’, I ran through her ghostly form and towards my Mercedes. As I got to the driver’s seat of the car, I looked through the window and saw that my stereo system was gone. I turned around, I saw a furious Whitney Houston ghost holding my stereo system over her head. I got in the car and sped to freedom, but before I made it to safety, that dead bitch Whitney chucked my stereo system at my bumper, causing $2,000 worth of damage.

That perilous night made me realize the dangers of my mansion, so I sent a legion of priests to perform an exorcism to remove Whitney Houston from my newly acquired property, then I promptly nuked the mansion to remove that hideous creature known as Bobby Brown from the face of the Earth. Still awaiting my Nobel Peace Prize.