The Socratic Method
| Published on Creepypasta.com | May 2009 |
|---|---|
| Length | 136 words · about 1 minute to read |
| Story level | Micro |
| Reader rating | 4.8/10 from 263 votes |
| Category | Rites and Rituals |
A secret society meets once every three years at a small diner in West Virginia. To join, you must come to the American Grill diner located in Cricket at 9:30 PM on September the twenty-first. The only uniform is a heavy overcoat and a green tie. Order an “Eggs and bacon platter with coffee.” The waiter will tell you that the breakfast menu is unavailable, reply, “Well, just the coffee then.” You’ll be allowed to stay after closing time for the meet. The meeting itself is a meeting of minds and philosophy regarding immortality. The society is called “The Socratic Method.” They hoist their mugs at the beginning and end of the meeting and say “Death to Socrates.” It’s rumored a little hemlock is added to the first cup, and an antidote to the last.
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I don’t get if
Somewhere Socrates is spinning in his grave at having his name attached to this
Sorry but that was just lame. If this is what passes for a creepy story I should just shower u guys with paragraphs jotted on napkins and scraps of paper. ..Every third Saturday at midnite. Out by the old town dump…. and all u need to bring is a long black robe, or a black jacket. Say the magic words scratched into the rock under the old oak tree and become another dark presence around the glow of the old tire fire….
C’mon, even i can do better off the top of my head!
Wow. I can’t find anything to say about this.
Hmmmmm. I mean sure not the best but I am pretty sure everyone has indeed seen worse. Mike is right, Baby Blue is pretty messed up. As i have never written a pasta myslef, might as well give it a try.
Oh look at that…. It would be tomorrow…
Some one do BLUE BABY BLUE… thats a fucked up ritual and i hear it works
I think this implies that Socrates never died and is immortal, hence the “death to socrates.”
BUT WHO WAS EGGS AND BACON PLATTER?
Its already been done…
I don’t think it was that bad. I mean, it’s not on of the best ritual pastas, but it’s certainly interesting–something you might actually try for kicks without much of a chance of dying horribly/being tortured or all eternity/being forced to wander the world forever with no rest/etc.
And to those who didn’t understand the end, Socrates committed suicide by drinking hemlock.
Gaaaaakk cough cough hack *ptui*
Ahem, ahem. My apologies, I just choked on that pasta.