Tom the Intern
Hello, my name is Tom. I'm a big fan of Bad Creepypasta. You know, their good stuff, before they sold out. Now, what do I mean by that, you may be asking? Well it all started many, many moons ago.
Back in the mystical year of 2012, I was watching my favorite YouTube channel MichaelLeroi on my Nintendo Wii. While they were reading Jeff the Killer 2015, a pop up appeared on my TV that said "You are the 1,000,000th viewer of Bad Creepypasta! Click here to become an intern!" I am really scared because I didn't know my TV could talk to me, but I took the GameCube controller, pointed it at the screen, and after much fiddling around, hit the "OK" button.
After realizing that I swapped tenses twice in the same sentence, I fell on the floor crying. My door opened, and from behind me came three masked British men. They proceeded to beat me until I was unconscious, put a bag over my head, threw me into a van, drove me to an airport where nobody questioned their masks or the fact that I was unconscious, and stole a plane so they could fly me to the country of London. After crashing into Big Ben, they parachuted out, and we landed in their apartment, or is it flat? I don't know, I'm not a tea drinker.
When I woke up, I was sitting in front of a laptop, and there was an icon saying "Recording" on the screen. Before I knew what was happening, I heard some familiar words.
"Welcome back to another episode of Bad Creepypasta. Matt couldn't be here today because he got the Coronavirus after eating tainted meat." Jacob says, prompting Toby to laugh like a hyena. "We're joined today by our intern, Thomas. Would you like to say anything, Tom?"
"I don't know where I am, you people knocked me out and brought me here, and I was apparently completely cognizant the entire time and know the route you took."
"Today we're going to be reading Jeff the Killer vs Charlie the Killer, which was suggested to us by Seth Rogen on Twitter."
I tried to get up from my seat, but I had been tied down to it. I started screaming. "HELP! HELP!"
"Stop shouting." Jacob shot at me, with a gun. I didn't even know British people could have guns, I thought the Queen made them illegal. Regardless, the gun sounded like it had no reason. They began reading the story, and despite my efforts to do otherwise, I could do nothing but comment on the story as well. While I was reading, something in my head snapped. My sanity, it broke, like a vase. I started laughing uncontrollably around the end of the story.
"Well, that was terrible. Gemma, what do you think?"
"Cor blimey!" Gemma shouted. "That was worse than undercooked haggis and untuned bag pipes."
"I thought it was brilliant." Matt said, having recovered thanks to being given mind drugs.
"I am currently suffering massive mind loss." I stated calmly and rationally.
"Well this has been Bad Creepypasta. Make sure to share the video, leave a comment, like it if you liked it, and subscribe to the channel. It really helps us out." Jacob roared. After the recording ended, he grabbed a thing of bleach, and poured it on my body, and then lit me on fire. I started screaming, and fell unconscious. When I woke up, I was in an American hospital (I could tell because my wallet was empty), and my face was covered in bandages.
"Mirror..." I growled to the nearby nurse.
"Are you sure?" She said, having materialized out of thin air.
"MIRROR!" I screamed at her. She grabbed a mirror from the table and handed it to me.
"We did the best that we could..."
I looked at my face under the bandages through the mirror and started laughing. I was beautiful. My skin had turned pale white, my eyes went from green to blue, I suddenly had hair blacks, and the room was filled with very heavily racist overtones. Probably because the nurse's name was Jane Arkensaw. She dropped her bottle of passion fruit syrup, which she had made herself, and stepped away.
"Now I have super powers!" I whimpered. I jumped out of the bed, doing a super cool back flip, and killed the nurse. There was lots of blood, hyper realistic crimson red blood, just very gratuitous amounts of the stuff. I ran out of the hospital, never to be seen again. I was seen 2 weeks later, writing this story. Overall, I'd say Bad Creepypasta is a pretty good channel, I'd intern again if they'd ever answer my emails. Okay, that's all. Goodbye.
Written by Stevaniel
Content is available under CC BY-SA
| Comments • 0 |
Loading comments...
|
