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{{DISPLAYTITLE:BOB.EXE: Round 2}}
==BOB.EXE: Round 2==
It has been a rough estimate of 11 months, 4 weeks, 2 days, 23 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds since the first recorded incident of "BOB.EXE BLOOD". It sounds like a really stupid name for a case, but we called it that because it had BOB.EXE and a lot of BLOOD. Even after all that time, the police department still has absolutely no idea what the heck is going on. Either that means we're the most incompetent cops since the last time cops have been depicted in fiction in a negative light, or it means that I'm going to contradict myself later on when I reveal that we actually do have an idea. Maybe both.▼
▲It has been a rough estimate of 11 months, 4 weeks, 2 days, 23 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds since the first recorded incident of "BOB.EXE BLOOD".
It all started when we found the first victims in a comatose state, lying in a pool of hyper-realistic BLOOD. At first, we thought that it was pretty shocking, but over time we began to realize just how dull and repetitive these incidents were getting. Just BLOOD, BLOOD, and more BLOOD. Only one thing was for certain... each victim's computer was broken beyond repair, but we were somehow able to conveniently retrieve data, and this data was somehow able to be conveniently interpreted to reveal that each computer was playing a game called "BOB.EXE". You got all that? No? Well, don't worry, because we're going to repeat that information later on because I'm sure you have the memory of a goldfish.▼
▲It all started when we found the first victims in a comatose state, lying in a pool of hyper-realistic BLOOD.
As I said, we had no idea what was going on. And, as I said, I was going to contradict myself by pointing out that we did, in fact, have an idea what was going on. Or, at least, one guy did. A whole police force, and just one guy had the slightest clue.▼
▲As I said, we had no idea what was going on.
His name was Nick, and he was a really good detective. Well... at least, a good detective. On second thought, maybe just a competent detective. Never mind, he was really a mediocre detective. But, he could achieve some level of competency when he was teamed up with his sister, Laura. Then again, she was a woman, and rather than being some sort of progressive forward-thinkers, we were all just a bunch of idiotic sexist dirt-bags who never took a female cop seriously for anything more than her figure. That's why we denied her access to our secret supply of donuts.▼
▲His name was Nick, and he was a really good detective.
Cops and donuts... that's still a relevant stereotype, right? Meh, I don't know. As I said, we're just incompetent idiots who serve no purpose other than cannon fodder in a lousy excuse for a creepypasta. Except for that one guy, but I'll get to him later. I should know about that. After all, I was there. I was there the day the courage of men failed... no wait, dang it, that's the wrong story to plagiarize...▼
▲Cops and donuts... that's still a relevant stereotype, right?
As for Nick and Laura? They're both dead.▼
Whoops, spoiler alert! Can't let you know that Snape kills Dumbledore! Wait...▼
Sometimes, I wonder if I should have helped him... I dunno... meh, I wasn't really feeling like it. Anyways, when we were snooping around Nick's apartment the other day looking for... ahem, that's classified, but more importantly, we stumbled upon his secret diary. Apparently, he recorded everything he knew about the investigation in this diary. Good grief, he wrote a lot. No, seriously, he wrote a lot. He wrote so much, I don't know who would dare to read this. It's not just lengthy, it's boring. It's like if you took something that had as much substance as ''The Hobbit'' and stretched it out into three movies, each three hours long, and still didn't bother to develop any of the characters or world or, for that matter, know what it was that made the original good in the first place, but hey, when you have Benedict Cumberbatch as a dragon, then people will still pay to see it. I know I did.▼
▲Sometimes, I wonder if I should have helped him... I dunno... meh, I wasn't really feeling like it.
But this story doesn't have Benedict Cumberbatch as a dragon. So, I'm going to do you all a favor and just skip over 99% of what he wrote just to get to the more memorable bits. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two, such as how to ''not'' write a creepypasta.▼
▲But this story doesn't have Benedict Cumberbatch as a dragon.
Or, for that matter, how to write a trollpasta that is so audaciously blatant in the fact that it is a trollpasta that you still scratch your head when you read all the comments left by people who somehow don't realize it's a trollpasta. Looks like Poe's Law strikes again. Maybe we were just too subtle... if you spell "subtle" with big bold flashing letters spinning against a backdrop of fire and explosions while an orchestra performs a bombastic symphony.▼
▲Or, for that matter, how to write a trollpasta that is so audaciously blatant in the fact that it is a trollpasta that you still scratch your head when you read all the comments left by people who somehow don't realize it's a trollpasta.
But, I digress. Here is what Nick wrote...▼
-----▼
Dear Diary,
I don't even know why I'm addressing this to a diary like it's some sort of letter.
Dear Diary,
Sorry about that.
Anyways, there has been an incident, and the boss has assigned Laura and me to investigate.
Dear Diary,
Okay, um... I'm not sure what I was expecting because I didn't read the foreword by my boss at the beginning of this story, but it wasn't what I saw.
My lawyers just informed me that the previous few sentences were plagiarized.
Anyways, when we first saw the victim in the BLOOD, we thought he was dead.
Not literally, I mean.
It was Laura who found our first clue.
"TOO MUCH BLOOD.
Laura also found our second clue.
Dear Diary,
The lab boys just got back to us.
Using the magic of SCIENCE that they learned from Bill Nye, they were somehow able to determine that the computer was not broken by viruses downloaded from certain websites as we had previously suspected, but rather... well, it shut down while he was playing some sort of computer game called "BOB.EXE".
Dear Diary,
More incidents.
In other news, a sergeant just transferred over to our department temporarily.
Dear Diary,
Another day, more BLOOD, another victim.
There's been an interesting new development: Laura made another discovery.
While our Google search results for "BOB.EXE" typically resulted in either information about computer viruses or some poorly-done fanart of some old videogame from the early 90s, Laura found a recent eBay auction.
... except for the hyper-realistic BLOOD under its eyes.
We're currently trying to track the auctioneer.
Dear Diary,
We've located the auctioneer.
When I knocked on the door at his residence, I was greeted by an elderly old woman.
"SHUT UP, GRANDMA!" I heard Zack yell back.
"I'd just like to ask a few questions," I explained.
At his grandmother's insistence, Zack brought me inside.
"You've got quite the... err, impressive collection," I murmured.
Zack grinned.
Rolling my eyes, I interrupted him before he could give me a lengthy lecture about all the stuff in his collection.
"Well," he replied, "I generally keep everything for myself.
"What about this?" I asked, handing over a printout of the eBay auction page for the BOB.EXE minifigure.
Upon seeing the printout, Zack suddenly shuddered as his complexion paled.
I blinked in surprise.
"Yeah, so?" he shrugged, unaware that he was the first person we've found to have played BOB.EXE without being reduced to a vegetable.
"What happened?" I inquired.
Zack sighed.
When I said that I did not know what ''LEGO Universe'' was, Zack rolled his eyes and explained to me that it was some "massively-multiplayer online game" that required servers to run, and because the game sold poorly (or, at least, that's what LEGO says, but conspiracy theorists say otherwise... I know, big surprise there), the servers were shut down.
"The only good thing about it," continued Zack, "was that I got a free minifigure out of it.
He showed me the spot on his computer desk where the minifigure had supposedly appeared.
"Can't wipe that BLOOD off my desk," grumbled Zack, "no matter how hard I try."
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"Does anyone else know about this?" I inquired.
Zack shrugged.
"Do you know how I can reach these 'gamers'?" I asked.
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"Just throw in a ton of half-hearted references to MLG, Doritos, Mountain Dew, 420, weed, illuminati, that kind of stuff, and they'll be bound to find you."
Zack didn't know anything more about BOB.EXE, so I decided to call it a day.
Zack grinned.
"Who's the artist?" I inquired.
Zack said, "Darude - Sandstorm."
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I promptly slammed the door in his face.
Dear Diary,
That meeting with Zack got me thinking.
Anyways, even with this new information, I don't feel like we're any closer to solving this case.
I just remembered something... the first victim... he had a collection of LEGO sets.
I should talk to Laura about this.
I wonder where that minifigure is now... Zack was sure that some sucker would buy it.
Wait a second... Laura said she was expecting a package...
Oh no.
I should be stopping her, but I just remembered that I had to come back and finish that previous sentence.
I should still be going, but then I had to write that previous sentence explaining why I hadn't gone yet.
Okay, fine.
Crap, I wrote "Happy now" and had to finish it with a question mark before I could leave.
Laura!
Dear Diary,
If anyone else reads this, I hope you didn't skip over the past several entries where I did nothing but angst over my failure.
I just got back from the hospital.
Damn it, why did it have to be her?
On the way home from the hospital, I met this strange woman named Roberta Exley.
Oh great.
Roberta Exley rambled on and on, spewing stupid propaganda for the Church of Cthulego.
Remind me to do a Google search for the world's fourth-largest food crop.
"And who is this 'False Shepherd'?" I asked, rolling my eyes.
Although she was grinning, if it were not for the dead-serious look in her eyes, I would have been sure that Roberta Exley was joking when she replied, "It is he, who bears the name of the Renaissance.
At that moment, a crazy-looking homeless bum approached us and asked, "Excuse me, do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, the Hovering Pasta Beast?"
Roberta's smile vanished as she looked very annoyed at having been interrupted.
In the time it took her to say that, another man walked up to us, holding a fossilized shell in the air.
Roberta scowled.
But it was too late.
Though, there was one point when some ugly guy wearing a shirt depicting a hyper-realistic starfish with the caption "Proud Representative of Trollpasta Wiki" began to speak.
In response, someone else pulled out a gun.
The Trollpasta Wiki rep's facial features twisted into a very-wrinkled grin befitting of the pasta he represented.
"It was NEVER funny to begin with!" he snapped.
I think that's enough internet in real life for me today.
''Hello?
''If you've somehow made it this far in this story, what are you doing with your life?
Dear Diary,
I don't care about being the good cop anymore.
I don't know who you are.
Now, my lawyers just informed me that I apparently plagiarized again.
DEAR DIARRHEA,
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WHAT THE HELL THAT STUPID FAT OLD SERGEANT CONVINCED BOSS THAT WHAT HAPPENED TO LAURA LEFT ME TOO EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED TO CONTINUE THE INVESTIGATION SO THEYRE THROWING ME OFF THE CASE HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME I HATE THAT SERGEANT I HATE BOSS I HATE YOU OKAY MAYBE I DONT HATE YOU BUT AT THE VERY LEAST I SLIGHTLY DISLIKE YOU
Dear Diary,
Sorry for that earlier outburst.
Boss says that he's on my side, and I trust him like a friend.
Dear Diary,
Again, if anyone else is reading this, I sincerely hope that you did not just skip over the past dozen entries where I explained my investigation in excruciating detail.
It turns out that BOB.EXE is a malevolent interdimensional entity that can access only our reality through the game.
But that's not all.
But wait, there's more!
I put the CD in my computer.
There he was.
Line 268 ⟶ 270:
BOB.EXE.
He stood next to the log-in menu, welcoming me to the game.
There was just one problem.
With a sense of relief that my stupid curiosity would not get me punished, I shrugged.
BOB.EXE's smile vanished, and the façade was shed.
I was genuinely startled.
As I'm writing this, I'm constantly checking over my shoulder.
So far, so good.
That was Nick's last journal entry.
And now, he's dead.
Whoops, spoiler alert!
I always wondered why he acted the way he did during this investigation.
It was addressed strictly to Ponte Harry Boss.
That's my name.
Obviously.
The email contained an attachment, so I opened it, because I always open strange attachments included in strange emails.
[''Recording starts.
Nick: Guys, seriously, this isn't funny anymore!
Roberta: I think it suits you.
[''A chorus of laughter is heard.
Nick: Roberta Exley!
Roberta: Oh, trust me, we do.
Nick: Exciting?
Roberta: Watch your tongue, Nick.
Nick: [''suddenly confident''] Upset him?
[''Several gasps and murmurs are heard, as if something shocking actually happened, which I sincerely doubt.'']
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Roberta: Whoops, you forgot to put the CD in your computer.
Nick: Oh, I'm not going to put it in my computer.
Roberta: You really should have broken the CD while you had the chance, instead of just telling us that you were going to do it.
Nick: Hah!
[''More gasps are heard.
Roberta: Hmm, not bad.
Nick: No, of course not.
Roberta: [''annoyed''] Fine, you called my bluff.
Nick: [''no longer confident''] You don't mean...?
Roberta: [''triumphant''] Yes, I do.
Nick: You're... you're bluffing again!
Roberta: [''laughing maniacally''] No, I'm not!
[''The cultists proclaim praise of BOB.EXE, Cthulego, hyper-realistic BLOOD, and other such crap.'']
Nick: [''shocked''] No....!
Roberta: Well, there ''is'' another way.
Nick: That's the BOB.EXE minifigure!
Roberta: Precisely.
Nick: What the heck are you-
Roberta: Good enough for me!
[''The cultists start chanting enthusiastically.'']
Nick: BLOOD ritual?
Roberta: The BLOOD ritual to endow this plastic toy with the power needed for Cthulego to fully cross over into our reality in his true form without the need for ''Half-Life 2: Episode 2: Chapter 1''.
Nick: Why are you taking off my shoes and socks?
[''The sound of thousands of tiny plastic objects falling upon the floor is heard.'']
Line 372 ⟶ 374:
Roberta: Tell me, Nick. [''okay, seriously, how many times has she said that phrase?''] Have you ever walked barefoot on a carpet covered with LEGO bricks before?
[''Nick cries out in terror, but it is too late.
Nick: Ouch!
[[File:Cthulego.png|thumb|PRAISE CTHULEGO!]]
[''Quietly at first, there is the sound of a storm wind blowing.
Roberta: Praise Cthulego, for He has risen!
[''A voice that sounds like the grinding of bone begins speaking.
Cthulego: '''''DON'T YOU SEE HOW MUCH FUN IT IS TO USE YOUR IMAGINATION?'''''
Nick: [''screaming''] No... No... NO!
Cthulego: '''''YES, NICK... YOU ARE AT MY MERCY NOW.
[''Gasps are heard among the crowd.'']
Roberta: It's... it's that police sergeant!
Cthulego: '''''COSGROVE... WE MEET AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Cosgrove: [''very calmly''] Cut it out.
Cthulego: [''taken aback''] '''''OH... OKAY.
[''The maelstrom winds suddenly end as Cthulego apparently vanishes.
Nick: What the...?
[''The audio recording abruptly ends.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
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After hearing this... I've never felt so confused.
Nick may never be able to walk again, having been permanently mentally and physically scarred by his close encounter with Cthulego that left him completely and utterly confused about what the point of all this was supposed to be.
Well, there was nothing I could have done.
[[File:Cosgrove.gif|thumb|Oh... okay. I'm sorry.]]
Here's where I would go on and on in some supposedly awe-inspiring speech about hope and dreams and how we must never give up in the fight against Cthulego... or BOB.EXE... or whatever he's called.
But really, all we need is Sgt. Mike Cosgrove to point at people and tell them to "Cut it out." That'll solve all our problems.▼
▲But really, all we need is Sgt. Mike Cosgrove to point at people and tell them to "Cut it out."
I'm sure you don't believe me. I'm sure you doubt that these events ever took place. I'm sure you think that this is all just a load of crap. But, before you make us the laughingstock of the creepypastas, consider the following...▼
▲I'm sure you don't believe me.
How long did it take you to read this story? Because BOB.EXE stole that time from your life. And now, you'll never get it back.▼
▲How long did it take you to read this story?
{{clear}}
{{v|reading|qbi-gGw6Q8E}}
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