https://jasonschutt.com
It was a crisp October evening in 1994, Pittsburgh. The kind of night where teenage dreams and budget beer collide in a symphony of youthful misadventure.
One night, feeling particularly adventurous, we decided to sprint over to the theater instead of driving the 500 yards. The only obstacle was a massive ditch that separated us from our late-night cinematic fix
I peeked around the corner, half-expecting to see my nocturnal nemesis wielding a spatula instead of a knife. Lo and behold, there he was...
Looking back, those werewolf hunts were a testament to the power of imagination and the invincibility of youth.
It was a day that would forever be etched in my memory – the day I got kidnapped. Back when I was 15 years old, I was enrolled in a driver's training course.
My brother and I looked at each other in amazement and wondered did that really just happen.
I was born in a day three days after Christmas in 1973 in Michigan.