April Fool’s Day Art: Jeff the Killer “OCs” Edition

April 2, 2014 at 6:21 AM

If you were around on April Fool’s Day, you probably noticed that – in addition to a large amount of parodypasta showing up – commenters were temporarily given the ability to ‘modify’ everyone’s favorite Crappypasta spin-off fodder, Jeff the Killer himself.

As promised, here’s the round-up of everyone’s submitted Jeff edits. I don’t believe that I missed anyone, but if I somehow skipped your image, I’m sorry!

Click on a thumbnail to see the full size; the name in the caption is the handle of the commenter who posted the image in question.

I hope that you guys had fun making these, and Happy April Fool’s Day!

People

April 1, 2014 at 11:00 PM
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You lay in your bed quietly. Your window is open, a light breeze flowing through. You stare up at the ceiling, watching time pass by. Why is it so hard to sleep? you silently wonder, tapping your heel impatiently, waiting for oblivion to overcome you. You haven’t been able to sleep for ages, and it’s been almost 3 days since you got some shut-eye.

Laying here, your senses are heightened, the quiet rustling and hooting of the occasional owl ringing in hypersound. Your eyes have fully adjusted to the dark, allowing you to see every detail in the bedroom around you.

You suddenly hear a creak. Thinking it’s just your dumb dog walking around at night, you push your head under your pillow and groan.

Another creak, followed by a crash. You jump up, grabbing the gun from your bedside table. “Who the hell is there?!!” You shout, aiming around the room wildly.

There is something out your window. It crawls through the hole, its face white, with singed black brows and a bloody red smile. Its hair is long, black, and matted. It wears a white hoodie, smeared with black substance you can only guess to be blood. It rushes in on you, tackling and ramming you into the bed, hissing 4 words into your ear:

“JUST.. GO.. TO.. SLEEP!”

You look up into the things eyes, and you push yourself up, staring at it. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Barging into my room like this?!”

The thing stares at you. “Wait.. what?”

You stare at it angrily. “And why the FUCK did you tell me to go to sleep?! I mean, for all I know, I might have just been about to drift off, but NOOOO, YOU have to go show up!”

It starts to walk to the window. “I-I’ll just be on my way.. heh–” He dives out the window, running into the night.

You plop the gun onto your desk and lay back down on the bed, sighing and speaking aloud. “Jeezus.. People these days.”

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3-Ply

April 1, 2014 at 10:00 PM
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This is a call for help.

I don’t know how much longer I have. My iPad, my last connection to the outside world, is down to 10 percent. A few more minutes to send out this desperate message is all I have left.

You see, I’m stuck here, and I guess I have to fill you in on how exactly I got stuck in this shitty situation.

It was an ordinary day. I woke up, got ready for the day, ate breakfast, school, homework, you know, the daily routine. As per my routine, to finish the day, I was to take a shit.

So I did.

Before anything else, I have to say that my bathroom is different from others. For reasons I don’t know, the owner had a stall for the toilet, like those you’d find in those shitty public bathrooms.

Perhaps he didn’t want to see his fucked up face in the mirror the toilet faced.

It didn’t really matter though. I’ve gotten used to closing and locking the stall every time I used the toilet. Call it a force of habit, or an obsessive compulsion to use everything I come across.

Next to the stall was a window and a narrow ledge, where I put all my tissue. The ledge caused a small gap between the stall door and the window. Great for stuffing more tissue or the occasional magazine I’d bring along.

Nothing absolutely extraordinary or strange, but it was different.

Anyway, I pulled my pants down, sat, and felt the cold plastic on my bare ass. With nothing left to do but let nature take its course, I pulled out my iPad and started reading.

Of course, I started reading some creepypasta. It was late, quiet, and I was all alone: a perfect time to get a few goosebumps.

As I was reading and literally getting the shit scared out of me, I noticed a faint scratching on the stall door. It was as if a dog was scratching the flimsy plastic door except it was slower… more deliberate.

It stopped moments after I noticed it. I was unnerved. I didn’t have a dog. It couldn’t have been the wind. Those noises couldn’t have been fake.

I was scared as fuck, but I dismissed it. It must have been the plastic flexing from the temperature. Yeah, that was it.

I continued to read. I was almost done shitting, to be honest, but I couldn’t just leave my seat without finishing the story.

Then I heard a drop, a soft thud. The stack of tissues wedged between the door and the window collapsed. It fell forward out from my reach.

I checked the window outside. The night was as still as it could be. It couldn’t have been the wind. It was something else, something from the inside.

No, no, I was scaring myself. I slowly chuckled to myself. The rolls were probably just unbalanced in the first place.

So I continued. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong though. I set aside my iPad and slowly unlocked my stall. I gave it a slight push, but it wouldn’t budge. I reasoned that it must have been rusty.

I pushed harder, and harder, and harder, as hard as my seated position could muster, yet it wouldn’t move. It was as if someone on the other side was pushing back, holding me here.

I was panicking. Some malevolent force was keeping me here. I knew what was to happen next. I would be killed, or flayed, or mutilated, or driven to insanity.

The scratching began again. Louder, louder, louder. I could feel the plastic slowly being ripped to pieces.

I swear, it was toying with me.

Then I saw it.

A hand, if you could call it that, crept up to the gap, reaching in. This was it.

The hand was a rotting shade of green and grey, like it had just freshly dug itself out of the grave. It was putrid, and overpowered the already foul smell of the stall.

It’s slender, bony fingers ventured into my stall, grasping for something, seeking to rend the flesh from my bones.

I was frozen in fear. Imagine an end like this, caught with my pants down, found dead on a toilet.

The hand inched, closer and closer. I could almost feel the cold death permeating from its cold, pale flesh.

I was ready to die.

It suddenly rushed.

I closed my eyes and screamed. Tears came out of my eyes, sweat came out of every single pore, hell, I even pissed myself on the toilet. I waited. A few seconds, a few slow agonizing minutes. I did nothing.

I mustered up my courage and opened my eyes. It was gone! I was saved. I breathed deeply. No, I wasn’t ready to die, and I’m glad I didn’t.

I pushed the door once more, and I was greeted by an empty bathroom.

It took me awhile, but eventually, I realized.

My tissue.

It was gone.

All of it.

This is a call for help.

Please, somebody save me.

I like triple ply.

Credit To – Urich Victorino

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Brainstorm

April 1, 2014 at 9:00 PM
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“Ah, here it is! Listen:

Jimmy the Killer

Jimmy was a lonely kid, and he was always bullied in the school. One day the bullies got too far. They trapped him in an abandoned factory, and Jimmy finally decided to fend for himself. So he pulled out his katana, but the bullies also had swords, and they started to fight on a bridge over an acid vat. Jimmy defeated two of them and cut their heads off, but the third bully took out his bazooka and blew up the bridge. Because of this, Jimmy fell into the acid. His face became real pale, and his hair fiery red. Now he calls himself Jimmy the Killer, and before killing another victim he says: GET ASLEEP!”

Andy yawned and rubbed his eyes. “You know, I almost did,” he said.

“So, you didn’t like my story?” asked Jim.

Andy stood up, took a can of beer from a table and sat back on the couch. Jim still stared at him with hope.

“I’ve told you, Jim, you’re a shitty writer, and you know that. Accept it and move on with your life.”

“Well, that’s why I called you. I thought we can write a better story together.”

“What do you mean, together? All writers work alone.”

“No, not all of them. Besides, we’ll be the first ones to write a creepypasta together. Ain’t it cool?”

“Nah,” answered Andy. “That sounds stupid.”

“Please, Andy, is it that hard to help your friend? I really want to be a writer, but I need to start with something”

Andy smirked.

“Well, if you want it so badly, let’s do it. We only need to find something to write about, you know, something other than you and your issues.”

Jim leaned back in the chair near his computer.

“OK,” he said. “I got an idea, it’s cool and original. Let’s write about some chick who meets someone, maybe a doctor. They talk about some shit and then something strange is going on. At last, the girl looks at the doctor and says: ‘Hey, doc, why does your mouth move like this?’ And he says…”

“TO GRIND YOUR SKIN! Ooga-booga! The doctor is Skin-Taker! Yeah, that’s so original – to write another follow-up of Candle Cove. We need to find something fresh, man.”

Jim spent a few seconds deep in his thoughts, while Andy took a few sips of beer. At last, Jim jumped off his chair with an excited look on his face.

“I got it! A guy buys a video game and…”

“C’mon, video games are such an old cliché. It’s a really, really dead, rotten and putrid horse. Unless, you can do something cool with it, like creepy screenshots, video or even an actual game.”

“What shall we do then?”

“First of all, we have to decide what we are going to write about, come up with some new monster.”

“Go on, it’s your turn. How should our monster look like?”

“Well, I dunno, imagination is not my strong point. How about a disembodied hand that flies into the windows and drags people away?”

“Lame.”

“A skinless woman with a knife?”

“Lame.”

“An eight-eyed land kraken with ten eyes, horns, spider-like mandibles and a big toothed mouth?”

“Oh, please.”

“I give up. We don’t need monsters anyway. Look at the classic creepypasta: it’s not monsters that scare us, it’s the atmosphere. The suspense. The feeling that there is something, something above our comprehension, something that can kill as at any moment… something-“

“Hey, I have another idea. A guy moves to a house. He hears some weird noises, sees some shadows. Suddenly, he starts seeing that his reflection in the mirrors acts strangely.”

“What happens then?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll come up with it later.”

“That’s the problem, Jim. First of all, you have to find a proper ending. In fact, the most important thing in every story is the ending. It’s that people are waiting for. If you don’t know how to finish your thing, what’s the point of starting it?”

“Maybe we should present it as a found manuscript which is partially destroyed? You know, only some part of the text can be read. It would look mysterious and disturbing.”

“Or you should better leave there an empty space and write something like YOU THINK NOTHING IS WRITTEN HERE? NO, IT’S HERE, BUT YOU CAN’T SEE IT! Or, WHAT YOU CAN’T SEE CAN KILL YOU! That, sure, would make everyone brown their trousers.”

Jim sighed. “By the way, we’re out of beer. Can you bring some cans from the fridge?”

Andy stood up and walked into the kitchen. As he opened the fridge, a sudden thought flashed through his mind. It appeared so quickly that he didn’t realize it before he came back into the room.

The lights in the kitchen were on.

The boys turned it off when they had left the kitchen.

However, Andy didn’t pay much attention to that. He handed Jim his beer can, and they continued their talk.

“Have you got any idea?” asked Andy.

“Well, thank you for your help, Andy, but I think I’ll just stick to Jimmy the Killer. Besides, girls find serial killers sexy.”

“Yeah, and so do the burly tattooed guys in the prison.”

Before Jim had a chance to answer him, his phone called.

“Hello,” said Jim.

“Hey, Jim,” said the hoarse voice on the phone. “What are you doing with my son?

Jim’s face grew pale. “N-nothing,” he muttered. “We were just writing stories.”

“What? Writing creepy stories without my permission?! This is unacceptable, young man! You, young folks, don’t appreciate your little lives and make up stories about death. Well, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

As the mysterious caller hung up the phone, Jim sat still in the chair with a frightened look on his face.

“Andy,” he said with a gulp. “I thought your daddy… ugh, I thought your daddy…”

“He’s dead,” said Andy. “Why are you talking about him?”

“Then who was-“ Jim looked at his cell phone, confused. “Who was… no, it’s ridiculous. Maybe, he just travelled in time? No, this isn’t happening!”

“What isn’t happening, Jim?”

The lights in the room started to flicker. Andy jumped up and started to dart around the room, panicked.

“What’s going on?” he screamed.

Jim still sat in the chair petrified. A loud thud sounded behind the door, lights continued flickering, and Andy’s can fell off couch spilling the beer on the carpet. It lasted for two minutes, and then the boys found enough courage to walk toward the front door and take a look of the unwanted visitor. They stood in the hallway for a while, and only after that Jim opened the door and man claws hands eyes scream ribs blood guts blood.

Neither Jim, nor Andy was ever seen again.

You’re next.

Credit To – CandleClock

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Kill the Killers (Parody)

April 1, 2014 at 8:00 PM
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The shack was dark, almost, too dimly lit for a normal person to see into. But he was used to it, after years of wandering the darkness his eyes had accustomed to the absence of light. The only source of luminance was the screen of a small computer, too old to do more than simply process small internet searches.

In the quiet light of the monitor, his features were simply made out. He was grotesque by the most basic of standards. Nothing about him was recognizable as human. His eyes were bloodshot with the inability to blink, and due to the lack of eyelids, mounds of crust formed where the tear ducts should have been. The sickening shade of white that colored his face, and the rest of his body, was a nauseating bone color. And the scars were the most disturbing part, the burns that had healed up caused flaking and a horrible sheen in some areas. This man was no longer human, neither in body nor in spirit. The small amount of emotion left in him was simply rage. Love was as non-tangible to him as the moon.

He sat there staring at the screen his askew mouth agape in horror as he read. The looks of disgust that registered on his disfigured face, would make many believe he was watching the ‘BME Pain Olympics’ Final Round. It was, in fact, much worse.

In front of his eyes unfolded the most disturbing things he had ever envisioned. Some female, had written something, beyond legible, passing almost into the infantile. A shudder passed down his distorted visage. Her claims of carnal knowledge of his body disturbed him, and even slightly nauseated him. This was enough for him.

He stood up from his kneeling position on the unsound floor, grabbed his knifes, and headed to a nearby house. Quickly and silently he moved around the place, this was no time for his normal Theatrics. There was no prelude, no “Go to Sleep” that had made him famous. No the butchering was quick and simple. Jeff the Killer needed to make a phone call, the situation was out of hand.

**

“Take HIM DOWN!” She screamed at the top of her lungs at the television set in front of her. Almost as disturbing to look at, Jane could care less, anymore that is. All those years ago she would have killed Jeff, given half a chance. These days, however, she rarely ever ventured into the daylight. Her marred beauty no longer hurt her the way it had once. Now she sits around during the day watching pro wrestling. For some reason she got it into her head that it would be possible to find a new rival here.

Reconciling her differences with Jeff had left her completely bereft of an opponent worthy of her talents, all because they tried to “hook-up” a couple years ago. Jane nearly choked on her soda at the thought of that travesty.
The ringing of the phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Who the hell was calling her….

“City Morgue, you stab them we slab them, how may I take your order today?” She answered the phone laughing.

“What the Hell Jane?” The voice on the other end quizzed. “Did you take some kind of fucked up happy pills today?”

Jane’s eyes narrowed and she growled into the receiver.

“Listen here you charred briquette, just because I no longer want to kill you for maiming me does not mean that I won’t should you piss me off.” Jane sighed. She just wanted to be whimsy, was that so wrong?

“Blah, blah, blah, I have something that we need to take care of, and as soon as possible if you don’t mind.” Jeff was exasperated.

Jane thought on what he was saying as he explained everything to her. Jumping onto her computer she listened to him talk. Crappypasta.com……was typed carefully into the web-browser. Her annoyance hit the fan in less time than it would take to get Miley Cyrus to lick a piece of construction equipment.

“What the holy shit is this?” Jane yelled out loud…Forgetting Jeff was on the phone she preceded to begin a rant that caused every nun in the state to begin praying for no apparent reason

“Fuck shit fuck…..” Jane was just swearing to swear at this point. “Why the hell would I wear a mask? Or have kids, all they do is eat, shit, and scream; Like I really want to deal with that bullshit.” Jane quickly gathered her own set of knives and headed over to her friends place.

**

Entering into the broken down cottage in the middle of the woods, a tall and dark figure ducked below the cross-beam. His most recent work out with his personal trainer, Hans, left his tendrils feeling like Jell-o.

Slenderman sat down in his lazy-boy chair and had just propped his feet up when there was a banging on the door. Sighing he stood up and dragged his sore overly long limbs to the door. Standing at the crumbling entrance was Jeff and Jane, both looking utterly pissed off.

“Yo Slendy my man, we have a major problem.” Jeff started off right away.

Dragging Slenderman to the computer in the back room, Jeff proceeded to show him the worst story he had ever found on the internet.

By the end Slenderman was puking out the window into his garden. Jeff tried not to envision what it was like for a man to purge when he had no mouth.

After a while the three of them sat in a circle discussing how they were going to deal with their problems, and it was decided that they would all target an author to destroy. The method of destruction would correlate directly to the offence that was written.

**

Jane stood outside her target’s house. A 15 year old female whom had felt it was okay to tell a story in which she inserted herself into the Jeff/Jane the killer world. Jane’s inner Grammar Nazi began to emerge. The complete lack of comma’s had her seeing red.

Having made sure the girl’s parents had left the house, Jane snuck in. Climbing the stairs slowly, careful not to creak, she made her way to the female’s room. Carefully she looked into the crack of the door the girl was typing away on her keyboard. Jane decided to drop the quiet approach and kicked in the door.

The girl’s head whipped around. The second her eyes registered the form before her, a squeal of excitement escaped her adolescent lips.

“OH MAH GAWDDDDDD” the girl jumped up from her computer chair and began to jump around the room.

Jane looked around the room in horror; every wall was plastered with fan rendered images of her and Jeff. Some naked, some in compromising positions. Agitation quickly replaced the disgust and quick as lightning, Jane pulled out some rope.

The girl didn’t even seem to notice what was going on. She was still in random, taco, middle school mode. Her ramblings were too fast to even make sense, something about wanting to get Jeff’s phone number off of her so that she could rub it in the face of “Besties.”

Jane snapped and trussed the girl up faster than a cowboy at a hog tying contest. Standing back she admired her handiwork. Then she grabbed the keyboard off of the computer desk.

The girl started crying, A thing that Jane pointedly ignored. Pulling out her knife she popped off a key on the keyboard.

“Do you know what the most used letter in the English language is?” She giggled at the hysterical girl.
“It is the letter ‘E’.” Jane screamed it at her face, forcing the key down the girls throat. “You see, when people completely ignore the basic constructs of the English language, I get a bit testy.” Jane was now screaming like a banshee.

“You use question marks when asking a fucking question, dipshit!” The question mark key was the next to be stuffed into the girl’s gullet.

One by one, Jane shoved every key down the girl’s throat. Forcing her to literally eat the words she had butchered then published on the internet. Taking the now barren keyboard, she pulled back and smacked it across the girls face.

The girl sat there crying, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, snot dripping from her nose. Her stomach was horribly distended and she was having difficulty breathing. She looked up at Jane trying to speak, but was met with cold heartless eyes.

Jane grabbed her knife and slowly made her way over to the broken girl. Her smile was sadistic, lopsided with the uneven pull of burned and scared muscle on her face. With a thrust she drove the knife into the girls stomach slicing it open, the eaten keys poured out. By now the girl only had moments left to live. She was unable to cry, let alone speak.

Jane stood there smiling at her, watching as the light faded from her eyes. Turning around, she grinned
evilly at the web-cam that was mounted on top of the desktop monitor. The face on the screen stared in sheer terror.

“Pass on the literature lesson.” Jane said and turned and walked out of the room.

**

Jeff sat in the tree outside his victims house, the girl he was hunting was a 14 year old who created horrible stories about sleeping with him. The shudder that ran along his spine almost dislodged him from his tree.

She walked into the room looking around even gazing out of the window. Letting out a sigh she closed the door behind her. When Jeff saw what was behind the door he almost fell out of his tree again, there mounted on the back of the door, was a life sized “manga” poster of him. With no pretense he dove through the glass window, scaring the shit out of the girl.

She screamed for her mom, but what she didn’t know is that Jeff had already silenced her family.

“You want to be beautiful like me right?” Jeff asked the girl doing his best to sound romancy.

The girl struggled then her eyes opened wider. The horrid visage in front of her was nothing like she fantasized about. His bleach white face made her want to retch. The bile rising up into her throat was stopped by the hand he wrapped around her Larynx.

“See girl you wanted to look like me now you will look like me. Just like me.” Pushing her out of the window into the kiddy pool he had filled with bleach, he laughed maniacally. “Just like me Girl, we will be Forever beautiful.”

Just saying the words, Jeff wanted to wash his mouth out with soap, god who would want a 14 year old girl friend. He hated 14 year old girls when he was 14. Nothing had changed after all these years.

Looking out the window he saw the girl floundering in the bleach pool, looking disinterested he lit and dropped a Zippo lighter into the pool. It instantly went up in flames. The girl screamed for a few moments before going silent.

“Oops….I thinks I may have over cooked the lamb.” Jumping out he grabbed onto the tree and climbed down.

He looked down at the girl. She was burnt to a crisp but somehow still breathing. The girl tried to smile up at him, but failed.

“Am I beautiful now?”

Jeff recoiled, this was not the reaction he was hoping for.

“What is with girls these days? Why won’t you die already?” Jeff huffed at her.

“Because, I love you Jeff, I want to be with you forever, I want to have your children.”

She tried to sit up and reach towards him, which should have been impossible. (But this is a story so what the hell why not.)

Jeff tilted his head back and laughed until he was gasping for breath. The girl looked at him strangely. Why was he laughing at her, that was so mean.

“I…I can’t have children you stupid fucking kid….I don’t have a penis. I lost it in a horrible zipper accident when I tried to hook up with Jane….of course by horrible Zipper accident I mean she had braces.”

The girl looked horrified no penis? But then who would she fantasize about. Maybe she could just pretend that Jeff had never told her that. Jeff continued laughing and talking to her.
“And what makes you think that I want a Pre-pubescent teenager any ways? Look, I’m a sociopath, not a pedophile. Not to mention, I really don’t dig pizza faces. Not that you have that issue anymore do you, then again you don’t have a face anymore.”

The girl tried to cry but her tear ducts were burnt away. She looked up just in time to see Jeff towering over her with a knife.

“Go to Sleep.” Jeff slit her throat and walked away. Looking back over his shoulder he sighed. Kids today….

**

Slenderman was slinking around in the woods behind his victim’s home. He had the worst punishment he could imagine in mind. He picked up the bucket at his feet and blended into shadow. He began to head towards his target.

Her story was by far the worst of the worst, spawning almost as much hate mail as “did you stumble across herobrine.” He shuddered, she had turned him into a complete bishie…damn-it how hard was it to figure out he was gay, why on earth would he want a girl let alone breed with one.

He was halfway across the lawn when he was stopped by a set of headlights. He froze, that was a Mustang, oh shit.

Not now, please not now, not when his plan was almost complete. The mustang stopped and out stepped a man. Who looked like your average middle aged dad. He brushed back his duster and pulled out a desart egal.

“Put the bucket down Slenderman, or pacemaker is going to put a hole in your gut.”

Slenderman sat down the bucket, and put his tendrils up. Everyone knew you didn’t fuck with the time traveling dad. He was the coolest dad ever. And chances are if you did Yossarian would tear you a new asshole in the comments.

“Slendy, you know using legos for this author is going too far. Why are you making me do this?” TTD asked like any patronizing father would. Slendy pulled out his mobile phone slowly and showed the story to TTD.

The look on the fathers face went from annoyed to disgusted. He looked back and forth between the story, the comments and the legos.

“You know derpbutt is going to be pissed. He said Legos are going to far. But, I am all for it, lets go Slendy, that shit was just plain wrong.”

Between TTD and Slendy they were able too pour legos all over the writers room, put tacks in her shoes, and in essence make her life miserable.

Slendy followed her around for about a year, placing legos under the arches of her feet everwhere she went.

Paybacks are a Bitch.

Credit To – Ahriannah, with thanks to CrappyPasta Regulars

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The Splendor Man

April 1, 2014 at 7:00 PM
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If there is one day in my life that has defined me it has to be back when I was a younger lad. I must give a bit of background though. I started seeing things moving out of the corner of my eye. Now seeing something slightly move out of my line of sight didn’t really bother me that much. Even the noises while I was trying to sleep didn’t throw me off that much. My upstairs neighbors are some of the weirdest people I have ever meet. One edited his apartment to be able to practice Javelin and another one was a Peruvian flute player. I’m getting a bit off track now.

So after three days of these things, moving out of the corner of my eye. I start seeing things completely move out of my vision of sight. One time during work I was standing in my cubicle talking to Fred in the next cubicle over. I looked up over at the hallway that lead from the office to the stairs. The wall blocked view of the stairs. As I looked over I saw a purple blur, move from the side of the hall down the hallway out of view.

My heart nearly stopped. I saw this a few more times coming to the conclusion a weird guy in purple was stalking me. The noises at night got louder and more terrifying. After a week or so of that, I started hearing a voice at night it was quiet and heavily mumbled. Using what left of my sanity I came to the conclusion that it was just my weird neighbors being weird. Until the second night of whispering. It said my name!

In a deep voice that location could not be found said “Paul.”
It was faint the first night but, after that it got louder and louder. After the fifth night of whispering I went to my friend’s house where some of my friends were going for a small party. My five nights of no sleep was obvious to my friends. They were worried about me. I assured them that it was just some stress. I was trying to make myself not look as crazy as mine friends already knew I was.

After a bit of drinking and our extreme D&D match(I kicked ass that night) with them. I looked out the window. There standing was this purple fuck who kept fucking with me. It wore a dark purple suit with tons of dots on the suit. Though their colors I couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t his suit that caught my eye it was his face. Or lack of it. As I blinked he was gone. I jumped off the couch. My friends were able to calm me down after a bit. I was able to fall asleep that night there was no noise. Not a creak, scratch or whisper.

After waking up on my day off I realized I needed some groceries. I walked down to the Wal-mart. As soon as I got there I was surprised to see that there weren’t any people there. The parking lot was full as usual, but inside no one was there. Though this should of sent off red flags for some reason my brain came up with the conclusion.

“Yeah, no stupid people to deal with.”

As I went about my myself; grabbing everything on the list as my usually day of shopping goes. It wasn’t till my last item my body started realizing something was off. I started sweating and my heart was pumping really fast. In my haze of stupidity I just passed it off as being hot. It wasn’t until I was one isle away from my last item, that my brain started working.
“Wait it’s a Saturday! This place should be packed! And it’s the second day of the month!”

I grabbed my last item(Sauerkraut) as adrenaline started kicking in. I ran as fast as I could down the rows of food until I ran into something. Hit it like a brick wall. I went flying back into a nearby rack of toys. As I waved about trying to defend myself I grabbed a handle and started swinging the item that had fallen on me as a weapon. As I started knocking things away. I thought I had defeated the monster. But, when I opened my eyes there was nothing there. And I was holding a wiffle ball bat and the monster I thought was attacking me was some toys that I knocked out of the way in the confusion. I stood up and looked at the exit. There was the doors that led outside as normal, but I couldn’t see anything outside. It was pitch black.

My brain came to the quick conclusion that probably meant death. My feet figured out the same thing as I was running down the rows as fast as I could to the tools in hope to find some sort of weapon. I heard the same voice as I had heard during my sleep. Deep, low, terrifying and this time echoing loud. It boomed across the whole store.

“Run as fast as you want Paul, but you’ll never escape!”

I started to hear footsteps from behind me and I started feeling breath against my neck. I was only one or two rows away from the tool section. When I finally reached the row I slid down to the middle of the row and grabbed the first thing that survival horror games had taught me was a weapon. A crowbar! I turned around and swung the crowbar as hard as I could. Hitting my target hard.The hit made hands sting in pain I dropped my weapon.

I feel back to the ground as I looked up upon my nightmare fuel. It stood at around eight feet tall, in a purple suit. The purple suit was covered in different colored polka dots on his suit. His face being completely white from what I could see with his hat covering his face. His hand with it’s purple glove slowly moved up to his hat. As his hand hit the back of his purple hat with a band with the colors of the rainbow that held a single cartoonish red flower in the band. His hat tilted from being down so I could see his face.

His face was completely white with no facial features. Except on his face was drawn rather large black eyes and a drawn on mouth that showed no emotion. His long and slender body started to slightly move. His drawn on mouth and eyes started moving. He had pupils in his large black eyes. His mouth turned into a huge smile.

He looked down at me; frozen in fear from the thing that was well splendor. He then said in a rather high pitched voice.

“Oh, yeah.”

He then cleared his voice while holding up one of his long slender finger. After he finished he said in a louder voice.

“HELLO!!! I”M THE SPLENDORMAN!!!!

His voiced echoed about the store. Then the candyman song started playing. Except candyman was changed from candyman to Splendorman.

“The Splendorman can!”

It went on for about 3 minutes until it finally stopped. He kept the same happy stare at me the whole time. After the song finished I was trembling covered in sweat and fear. I finally after a minute said.

“W-what i-is a Splendorman?”

He chuckled, grabbed me by the hand, and pulled me up to my feet. Looking at me with the same happy expression. Blackness slowly surrounded us. All I could see was his face. His voice dropped low. He said in an almost whisper.

“I’m your fears, your nightmares, and the darkest corners of the world!”

He then looked down at his hand. In his hand he was holding a 4×4 card. He then muttered to himself.

“Pause for dramatic effect.”

Swinging his arms up knocking me to the floor, yelled in his high pitched voice.

“I’M THE SPLENDOR MAN!!!”

His voice echoed about the store…again. The Splendorman song started playing again. Suddenly I got rush of courage, stood up and yelled.

“Stop!”
“What? The music?”
“Yes ‘Splendorman’ the music!”
“Are you not finding this funny?”
“Not really.”

He suddenly had a sad face. He then threw a taco at my face and hit me. I stumbled back and said.

“W-what the fuck!”
Splendor man was laughing his ass off. He then put his ass back on. I whipped away the taco and said.

“Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because it was random! And as any 7th grade girl will tell you that is the height of comedy!XD”(He literally made this face, not kidding.)

He finished his sentence with a twirl then started eating a flying pancake cat.

“Just because some teenage girls find it funny, doesn’t actually make it funny!”

He dropped his flying pancake cat thing out of his hands and mouth. Then his face turned into one of these fucking things.

“D:”

He then slapped me. My weak and fragile body fell to the floor. He burst out laughing. I got up and brushed myself off. After a minute or so he stopped laughing, looked down at me, and made a look of disapproval.

“You don’t like slapstick either! What is wrong with you!?!”
“Nothing, but that’s beside the point. Where am I? What’s a Splendorman?”
“Well, I am the Splendorman a sort of demon thing that does the bidding of the devil. Maybe you have heard about my more popular brother Slenderman?
“Oh, yeah that shitty game nobody would stop talking about for a month then everybody forgot about.”
“Finally someone who agrees that Slender was a poo-poo game.”
“Why did you say poo, you know I don’t care. But where am I?”
“Purgatory!”
In confusion I said
“What Wal-mart is Purgatory? That doesn’t make much sense.”
“Oh, but, Paulie it quit does.”
“How?”
“Well it’s, ah? Well? It’s evil. Yeah lets go with that.”
“What so evil about it?”
“Gosh-dern-it Paulie, can’t you just enjoy the randomness!? Wal-mart is Purgatory that’s comedy gold!”
“Well I could see some good witty humor in that but, there’s no good writer who could exploit that.”
“Oh, Paulie you must like breaking the fourth wall!”
“Oh, no it was just an observation.”

Then a loud booming voice echoed.

“Did some mention breaking the fourth wall!?!?!”
I fell back to the ground starting to find it quite comfortable and easier to cower on. I then yelled in fear.
“W-who is that?”
“You dummb that’s the writer of this fair story. You ask too many question and stutter too much.”
The writer followed up with
“Yes I wrote him after all my fears of a gay Slenderman and my social anxieties!”
Splendor man replied. “I am ‘NOT’ gay. You donkey turd!”

As the Splendorman fought with the author I spaced out in his own little world. I thought about the situation. Why? Why was I here? Did I do something to upset god? Maybe not believing in him, but that wouldn’t upset him enough to stick me with an annoying gay slenderman. Would he?

I was awoken from my mind nap when Splendorman picked me up by my throat. He mumbled
“Lets get it over with.”
I chocked out “What?”
“Like I said Paulie you ask too many questions.” Now in a sadder voice.
Splendorman carried me all the way to the exit and then dropped me onto the comfortable floor.
“Paulie you are deader than a metaphor that the author is to lazy to make.”
Completely shocked I stuttered.
“No,no,no,no!”
“Sorry, Paul but, you got hit by a bus on your way to the Wal-mart. Ha, you have became a statistic.”
“But, I can’t be dead.”
“Yes, you can you idiot! Apparently you were so low on the totem pole that I had to do the ‘job’ instead of either of my brothers.”
He then motioned for me to have some flying pancake cat.
“But-”
“I can’t do a thing Paulie.”
“You-”
Splendorman then slapped me.
“I can’t Paul.”
The booming voice returned.
“Ugh, I just realized we can’t kill him off.”
“What!”
“Well he is telling the story. It wouldn’t make any sense.”
“But, this barely resolves it either!”
“Yeah I don’t know what to do with the plot so you guys wing it for a bit while I think this through.”

I was very happy at this. The fact I was going to live. I was smiling ear to ear. Splendor man then exploded.
“Fu- Must not swear must be kind and lovable! I just want to be random and be loved, but no my story get hijacked by some donkey-turd of an author!”
The author returned.

“Okay I figured it out.”
“What!?”
“Paul will be your proxy!”
Splendor man stood there mouth opened and shocked. The author then started again.
“Well, it makes sense. Since this is pretty much a self insert fan fic. It just makes sense.”
“But!” Splendor man replied angrily.
“Do you want to be loved my random 7th grade girls?”
“Fine!” Splendor man said in a sad voice.
I cut in “I get to live!?”
“Yeah. You get to live Paul.”
I was pretty damn happy.Splendor man gave me a face like this

“:/”(Once again it was like this. Not being lazy.)
Splendor man then snapped his fingers and we were on a rooftop overlooking the city.

“Will I get to learn how to that?”
“What? No! That is only for people who like random.”
“Oh, so that’s, how the British won World War II.”
“What!?!?!??!”
“Never mind, so what is are first job.”

Splendor man pulled out a laptop out of his pocket. He opened it to a website called “Crappypasta”. He then said.

“We have to protect this amazingly, funny, and smart pasta called ‘Bloody Fruit Loops of Death’ from all these haters. Especially this dirty-birdie tytiger10.”
“Wait did you just make an obscure reference?”
“Yeah of course. Obscure references are hilarious. Not as much as slapstick or random, but you know still pretty good.”
I was about to disagree when he slapped me then burst into a long laugh. I got back up and he laughed for a good twenty minutes. When he stopped I said to him.

“Obscure references aren’t that funny because if people don’t get them they feel left out…”
“YOU NEED TO SHUT UP!!! YOU-YOU DONKEY POO!! Random and Slapstick and Obscure References are the height of humor!! You are just being a loser hipster hater who has no life!!”
“This is going to be a long eternity.”
“Same here Paulie, Same here.”

*This story was successfully rewritten after receiving feedback on Crappypasta – click here to read the original version.

Credit To – tytiger10 (Thanks go to YOU CAN”T HANDLE THE USERNAME and the crappypasta community)

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