The Perl
THE PERL, THE HORRIFYING STORY OF WHEN I PIRATED SONS OF ANARCHY™️.
It was September 3rd. The hit show Sons of Anarchy™️, featuring Charlie Hunnam, Katey Sagal, Kim Coates, Theo Rossi, and Ron Perlman, had just been released on DVD and Blu-Ray. But alas, I was too poor to afford it. My friends wouldn’t stop talking about it—"It's peak television," they said. Every conversation was about Jax Teller, the drama, the chaos. I needed to see it for myself.
"How will I ever watch such a masterpiece?" I thought to myself one fateful night. That’s when the idea hit me like a freight train.
"Why save up money to buy the series when I could just pirate it?" It sounded like a good idea at the time. After all, people pirated movies and shows all the time, right? What was the worst that could happen? Well, I was about to find out.
I dusted off my old, clunky laptop, opened a shady torrenting site, and searched for Sons of Anarchy™️. It didn’t take long to find a file claiming to be the entire series. My heart raced as I clicked "download." But there was a catch—the file was enormous, and my laptop, already struggling with years of wear and tear, groaned under the weight of the 12-hour download.
As the series downloaded, pop-ups and malware flooded my screen. My browser opened dozens of tabs, each one offering sketchy advertisements for biker gear and strangely specific offers like "Meet a Reaper Near You!" My antivirus program screamed in agony, but I brushed it off. "Small price to pay for greatness," I thought, watching the progress bar inch forward.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I had it. The entire Sons of Anarchy™️ series. My laptop wheezed in protest as I opened the folder, but there it was—every episode, perfectly labeled. I grabbed a bucket of popcorn, a two-liter soda, and nestled into my bed for a marathon of peak television.
The first two episodes were nothing short of perfection. The raw intensity, the gripping drama, the complicated lives of SAMCRO—it was everything I had hoped for and more. But when episode three began, something strange happened. The screen flickered for a moment, and then everything went black.
At first, I thought it was just buffering, but then the screen lit up again. This time, Clarence Morrow, played by Ron Perlman, was standing alone in an empty, smoky void. His face was unnervingly pale, and his eyes were pitch black, like bottomless pits. The background music distorted, low and guttural, as he stared directly into the camera.
Suddenly, the screen flashed a blood-red hue, and I was confronted with a horrifying scene—Hell. Or at least, it looked like Hell. The Sons of Anarchy clubhouse was in ruins, flames consuming everything in sight. The bodies of the entire cast—Jax, Gemma, Tig, Juice, Opie—lay lifeless on the ground, their faces frozen in expressions of pure terror. Only Clarence remained standing, with hyper-realistic eyes.
He walked closer to the camera, his black eyes now streaming with blood. His voice was deep, guttural, and seemed to echo in my very soul as he said, "You pirated the hit series Sons of Anarchy™️ featuring me. Now prepare, as I will show you... anarchy, son."
Then, without warning, my laptop shut off. I sat in stunned silence, my mind racing. "That was creepy," I whispered aloud, trying to convince myself it was just some kind of prank or corrupted file. But as I sat there in the darkness, I heard it—a knock at my door.
My heart sank. It was 3:30 AM, the creepypasta time. No one should’ve been at my door. I tried to rationalize it. "Maybe it’s just the pizza guy... even though I didn’t order pizza," I muttered nervously. The knocking persisted, louder this time. I approached the door cautiously, my hands trembling.
"W-Who’s there?! I stammered. No response.
I peeked through the peephole, and that’s when I saw him—Clarence Morrow, aka Ron Perlman, standing on my porch. He wasn’t alone, though. Behind him stood shadowy figures, their faces obscured, but I could tell—it was the rest of SAMCRO. Clarence’s pitch-black eyes locked with mine as he grinned, his teeth unnaturally sharp.
"Prepare to be in a world of anarchy," he growled. Before I could react, he began pounding on the door, the wood splintering with every hit. Panicking, I grabbed my phone to call 911. But when I dialed, all I could hear were horrifying screams mixed with the distorted theme song of Sons of Anarchy™️ blaring in the background.
By the time I looked back down the hallway, Clarence had broken through. He moved faster than any human should, sprinting toward me like a rabid animal. I tried to run, but it was no use. He grabbed me by my shirt, his grip inhumanly strong, and began to pummel me relentlessly.
I blacked out from the pain, waking up hours later in a hospital bed, my entire body in a cast. My neighbors had called the police after hearing the commotion, but by the time they arrived, Clarence was gone—vanished without a trace.
The police didn’t believe me. "Too many episodes of Sons of Anarchy™️, huh?" one officer joked. But I knew the truth. Clarence Morrow, Ron Perlman, whatever he was—he was real. And he wasn’t done with me.
Even now, months later, I can feel his eyes on me, watching from the shadows. Sometimes, when I’m alone at night, I hear the faint revving of a motorcycle engine in the distance, growing closer.
Please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t pirate the hit show Sons of Anarchy™️ featuring Ron Perlman.
Credited to Salienteria
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