Looper 🇺🇸 🔧 ⚙️🥆@looper_repairs

Describe yourself using 3 fictional characters

@ForestMommy I definitely see the sun & moon much further North here in Indiana.

The sun is moving further north when it sets.

@KickRocks2026 Good night 🤗

@KickRocks2026 You write well, worth it!

@Looper_Repairs Well, I wrote books so I had to feed the billionaire. Otherwise I couldn’t write like I do. :(

I had to prove I was human earlier. What a flipping joke. Get with it foreigners. Hire Americans Elon. And not radical left lunatics. These liberals are in charge. It’s absolutely ridiculous!! X couldn’t handle two of me. I’m from Mars… do you like me now???? @elonmusk @nikitabier

@KickRocks2026 It does get irritating restricted to short posts, hard to get meaning across. 🤷‍♂️

@littlestmrs 👊

@Looper_Repairs Yup 😂

My birthday is in June and I’m a size these books.

@littlestmrs That's wild. Those are accurate as far as I know. Mines June 9 😂

@KickRocks2026 Good night,🙂 I really enjoy talking with you, you’ve got a way of making my day a little better. Sleep well.

Goodnight everyone! I can’t stay up. My brain is cooked. I overdid the research without AI, and I’m now over powered mentally and physically drained. I’m following my heart. It’s saying my bed is calling. (((Hugs))) to you all. @KickRocks2026

@KickRocks2026 😂🤣

The moon hung low over Lake Tohopekaliga that autumn night in 1978, a thin silver crescent slicing through the mist that rose from the warm water like breath from a sleeping giant. The old fish camp on the western shore, nothing more than a cluster of weathered docks, a tin-roofed shack, and a few rusted outboards tied to pilings…had long since closed for the season. Most locals knew better than to linger after dark…the lake had moods, and this one felt watchful. Deputy Ray Harlan arrived alone, his cruiser’s headlights cutting pale tunnels through the fog. Five minutes earlier, dispatch had taken a call from an old-timer named, Gus Whitaker. He saw something moving on the abandoned paddlewheeler pulled up years ago at the camp’s far end. “The Quee Nee Tu,” Gus had rasped into the phone. “She’s creakin’ again, like someone’s walkin’ her decks.” Deputy Ray had laughed it off at first… thinking kids, probably, or raccoons, but Gus’s voice had carried an edge that the deputy recognized from men who’d seen too much water, claim things they loved. The boat sat half-swallowed by vines and mud, her once-red hull streaked gray, paddlewheel frozen mid-turn like a broken clock. She was built in the late 1960s for school trips and sunset charters, she’d carried generations of Osceola County kids across the 22,700-acre lake, laughter echoing over the grass flats where bass rose like silver ghosts. By the mid-1970s, faster boats and highways had moored her for good. No one bothered to haul her away, she became scenery, a landmark fishermen pointed to while casting lines. Deputy Ray killed the engine and stepped out, Maglight beam sweeping the deck. The air smelled of rot and algae, thick enough to taste. He climbed the sagging gangplank…wood groaning under his boots and froze. There were fresh footprints. Small, barefoot, pressed into the soft, mossy planks leading toward the pilot house. He followed them, heart picking up tempo. The prints stopped at the open doorway. Inside, the wheel stood untouched, cobwebs draping the brass fittings like funeral veils. Deputy Ray swept the light across faded benches, a child’s drawing still pinned to a bulkhead…stick figures waving from a boat, the lake below them, had blue crayon waves. Then he heard it… a soft thump-thump-thump. It was not the wind or waves against the hull. The rhythm of a paddlewheel turning, faint but unmistakable, coming from somewhere below the deck. Deputy Ray’s hand went to his holster. He descended the narrow companionway into the engine room, flashlight shaking now. The space was empty except for rusted machinery and standing water that reflected his beam in oily rainbows. But in the corner, half-submerged, lay a small wooden box, the lid cracked open. Inside was a yellowed photograph of a girl, maybe ten, standing at the rail with a man in captain’s whites. On the back, in careful schoolgirl cursive.. “Me and Daddy on the Quee Nee Tu, summer of ‘69. He says the lake keeps what it loves.” Deputy Ray stared a bit longer. The thumping grew louder, vibrating up through the hull. He backed away, breath shallow. As he reached the deck again, the sound stopped abruptly. Then silence rushed in, heavy and complete. He never told the full story at the station. He said it was kids, pranksters, nothing more. But he returned the next day with a metal detector and a shovel. He found a child’s sneaker buried shallow under the spot where the footprints ended, sodden, rotted, but the laces still tied in perfect bows. And beside it was a silver locket engraved with “L.M. 1969.” No missing-persons report from that year matched a girl with those initials. No wreck, or drowning tied to the Quee Nee Tu. And every fisherman who’d tied up near her in the 1970s swore they’d seen a small figure at the rail on foggy nights, waving as if waiting for someone who never came back. @KickRocks2026 Part 2- continued in the comments. 🧵

@KickRocks2026 🙏

The sun beat down on East Lake Tohopekaliga that sweltering afternoon in the summer of 1959, turning the broad, deceptive waters into a shimmering mirror. Sanford McClelland Jr., 19, of Saint Cloud, a former high school football star whose name still echoed in local conversations for his speed on the field and his easy grin off it…was out with friends, laughing, water-skiing, and swimming in the kind of carefree way young people did back then. The lake, part of the Kissimmee Chain, was their backyard playground… all 22,700 acres of open expanse, famous for bass and birds, but hiding shallows that could drop suddenly, currents that tugged without warning. No one quite saw how it happened. One moment he was there, cutting through the water….the next, he slipped beneath the surface. His friends dove after him, searching frantically, but the lake claimed him quickly. The Justice of the Peace, Paul Riggs ruled it an accidental drowning later that day…no foul play or recklessness, just the unforgiving nature of the water. Sanford’s body was recovered. The news rippled through Saint Cloud & Kissimmee like a shockwave. He’d been full of promise, a local hero on the gridiron not long before. That same year, the lake’s quiet dangers claimed others in clusters that haunted the communities along its shores. In July 1959, five Kissimmee residents, four of them youths… all drowned in a deep dredge hole connected to East Lake Tohopekaliga. Among them were siblings, Bonnie Lee Buse, 17, and her brother, Lester E. Buse Jr., 12, who had been swimming together. Their bodies were found about 30 minutes apart, hours after they were reported missing. Authorities continued searching for the others… Kevin Bracy, 14, his brother, Chester, 13, and Killie Black, 23…from a separate group in the same treacherous spot. The dredge hole, unstable and deep, had turned a simple swim into tragedy. These weren’t isolated stories. Lake Tohopekaliga had always taken its toll, from the Seminole War skirmishes of the 1830s…where “Tohopekaliga”meant “fort site” and islands hid warriors amid ambushes and losses, to the steamboat era’s hidden risks of snags, squalls, and drownings on the old water highways. By the mid-20th century, as the ‘Quee Nee Tu’ (or ‘Thee Quee Nee Tue’) sat decaying at a fish camp on the western shore, her once-proud paddlewheel seized and vines creeping over her decks, she overlooked scenes like these. The local kids in the 1970s would later dare each other aboard her tilting hull, claiming to hear whispers in the creaks or see shadows where none should be. But old-timers said the boat “remembered”….the Seminole holdouts, the forgotten steamboat perils, the personal losses like Sanford’s sudden vanishing or the Buse siblings’ final moments. The echoes never fully faded. In 1989, a 23-year-old woman died in a propeller strike on Lake Toho. In 2014, a man was ejected from his boat without a life jacket. He was found floating offshore. In 2022 & 2023, more falls and sinkings added to the tally. Each incident reinforced the lake’s reputation…calm on the surface, but capable of claiming even the strong without apology. There’s no grand monument stands for Sanford McClelland Jr. or the others lost in those 1950s summers. No spectral legends swirl like those in Kissimmee’s downtown ghost tours. Instead, the haunting is quieter, woven into warnings passed down from generation-to- generation…. wear the life jacket, know the drop-offs, respect the deceptive calm. On foggy mornings when storms stir the depths, some locals swear the water feels heavier near the eastern shores, as if Lake Tohopekaliga still carries those it took (one promising athlete, one pair of siblings, countless others over the decades). The lake, a provider of fish and memories, a silent taker of lives, its history written in unrelenting, accumulated tragedy beneath the waves. @KickRocks2026 My heart breaks for every parent that endures this.

@KickRocks2026 I'd love to get in your head & see how it works, it must be like the inside of a watch. Thank you for these amazing stories.

Deputy Ray quit the force six months later, and moved inland. But on still evenings, when the wind carries the scent of lake water through his open window, he sometimes hears it again…. that distant, rhythmic thump-thump-thump. And he wonders… did the lake take her, or did she choose to stay? The Quee Nee Tu, after all, had always been more than wood and wheel. She was a promise kept too long, a child’s laughter locked in the shallows. And lakes, like hearts, have a way of holding on…. even when everything else lets go. @KickRocks2026

@44MagnumBlue1 🙏 I've always loved this quote. God bless all our hero's

@Britski_Nic It's been a while since I went to one of his shows, I agree he's nuts, hilarious!

@Looper_Repairs It was great. He’s a nut, I’ve been going to see him any chance I get since around 2015

It’s been a few years, buddy

@2A_Patriot_ Funny or just ok?

Went and saw a stand up comedian tonight. The chairs were brutal. My back is screaming.

@LindaLouNotABot Good night Linda Lou, sleep well. I asked God to keep you safe, give you clear direction, & fill you with His peace, Amen.

@LindaLouNotABot @LibOrNormal @Ilegvm 😂😂

@LibOrNormal @Ilegvm Nope. Looks like it could pop when she sits.😱🤷‍♀️

Is this Attractive?!

@44MagnumBlue1 🙏👊

Thank you for our precious boy Tyson. He has been such a blessing. Please adopt and rescue if you can. Good Night.

@allthedogspleaz 🙏 I believe it.

This dog has been with me through a brain injury, severe depression, & my life being turned upside down by a horse riding accident. Right by my side for every hard day & dark night. When I say I want him to be happy- I mean it. He’s saved my life & kept me going so many times when I wanted to give up, so I try to repay him every day that I'm able. Some say “oh it’s just a dog,” but I know God gave me Charlie for a reason, & I thank Him every day that He did. 🙏🏼❤️