Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Twist Ending: The lasagna is still cold

Jackson Everydumas stared at his blank computer screen. His writer's block had been plaguing  him for days. With a heavy sigh, he let his head fall on the keyboard. How could this happen now? His ticket to internet celebrity status would be right for the taking if he could only think of something to write. It wasn't fair, why did writing have to be so hard? He thought back to earlier that day in his English class, the teacher's warm smile as she hands him back his failure of a paper. "It needs a little work. Maybe try working on the grammar and spelling first, in time you'll think of more elements to add to the story." Jackson was annoyed. What difference did grammar and spelling make in a really good story? Why do people have to be so judgmental? People don't talk like that in real life.

Jackson raised his head to look back at the screen. It was a jumbled mess of letters, numbers and punctuations. As he stared at the screen he was hit with a jolt of inspiration. "What if there was a kid who was just like me?" He murmured excitedly to himself. "And he did all the same stuff I did," he paused trying to think of some cool, creepy thing to add to his premise. "And he saw all of these random letters and saw it was actually a message? And the message was really scary and blood would be in it too!" Jackson deleted the wall of unintelligible text and began writing his story. He made a few minor changes so that the character wouldn't be exactly like him: This character's name is Jack, he's 16 years old and is a famous creepypasta writer. During a writing contest, he's hit with writer's block and sits at his computer for hours trying to figure out what to write. He's so depressed, he's thinking about never leaving his room and maybe killing himself. After hitting a bunch of random keys, he looks up to see a message on his screen, somehow typed in red, in a font that looks like dripping blood, "I'm coming for you...666" after a few minutes of typing, he realizes it's his own writers block demon. Jackson smiled at his creation. It was unedited, and many of the words were misspelled. That didn't matter to him, it was his story after all. He knew what it said, that's all that mattered. He ended the piece with the gory and graphic death of his protagonist. He published his story and sat with baited breath, waiting for the compliments to poor in. 

After a few minutes of nothing, he decided to go to the kitchen for a snack. Jackson stood up, entered the hallway and made a beeline for the fridge. He knew there was leftover lasagna, from the night before. Finding his prize, he heated in the microwave for a minute. As he waited, he heard a crashing sound from his room. Frowning, he wondered what the noise could have been. He left the reheating lasagna inside the microwave, and went to investigate the noise. Jackson pushed open the door to see a horrifying sight. A bloody teenage boy stood over his destroyed monitor, in his bloody hands were the hacked insides of his tower. Jackson backed away in horror while teenage boy staggered at him. Jackson knew it was Jack. Jack's neck was torn apart and leaked blood as he tried to speak, but his voice was no more than ragged grunts. He started beating Jackson to death with the jagged motherboard. In the distance Jackson heard the beeping of the microwave. The lasagna was finished reheating.

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