CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My Final Interview" Creepypasta

Episode Date: November 6, 2020

PLEASE CHECK OUT THE AUTHOR'S LATEST BOOK► https://www.breakingrulespublishing.c...MORE BOOKS HERE► https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Erutious: https://www.reddit.com/r/Erutious/com...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Aaron McBride: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/YkXbYSUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

Mr Carlson, they're ready for you on stage, sir. I looked up for my reflection in the mirror and turned to look at the young woman in the doorway. How do I look? I asked her, smiling hugely as I fixed her with my regard. She flushed a little. You look great. I was hoping I can get an autograph if it's not too much to ask.

The young woman looked flushed as she held out the paper. I grinned and took it, scrolling my name across the front before handing it back. She took it shyly, sliding a lock of a brown hair beyond an ear. Another fan, of course. But I was used to them by now. I'd been signing autographs for the last ten years, but this was the first one that I felt like I'd earned it.

No more raunchy Roger or audiences of drunken prep boys. I was done with that now. All that was behind me. Maybe now I could bask in the light of honest fans who weren't just here for my juvenile humour. Maybe now that I had some serious work, It would take me seriously. So, what did you think of the movie?

Oh yeah, it was okay. I've been a fan for a while, though. I used to love your stand-up. That surprised me a little. The general consensus from female viewers had always been pretty negative. Ranchie Roger had been beloved by stoners and drunks, and my humour had followed suit pretty well. The character had been great back when I was doing stand-up,

and it had followed me through the last seven years as the studio I worked for pumped out one dumb movie after another. Ronji Roger goes to college, Rangy Roger private eye, Ranchi Roger and the booby trap, and on and on and on. I wasn't used to girls telling me how much they liked my work. She looked like she wanted to say more,

but at that moment, the band picked up, and she looked flustered. I think they're playing you on. Knock them dead, she said. I gave her a wink and walked towards the stage. The crowd erupted into applause as I came out, and I basked in their warm regard as I walked over to the couch. My manager had been adamant about me doing the talk show circuits. Guy David was my first stop, and if I made a good impression here, I could keep making the rounds and pumping my new movie. This was no raunchy Roger Flick either.

I had starred in a serious role for once, and I needed this movie to do well. I desperately needed to move out from under the shadow of Ranchi Roger Guy came out to shake my hand and as we sat I heard a chorus of male voices yell Ronchy Roger from the back row I gave them a polite wave

and turned my attention to Guy Here on my couch tonight We have a real legend of the world of comedy Raunchy Roger himself Roger Carlson everybody The applause was twins with some booze this time but I felt it was the same level of appreciation as before. Thanks Guy, it's a pleasure to be here.

So, you went from starring at a series of be-less movies that appealed to college kids and habitual drinkers to starring in a major box of a smash. What's that like? Guy's teeth gleamed whitely in the overhead, and I felt almost blinded. Guy wore the same dark blue suit. His graying hair swooped back

in one of those Johnny Carson imitations thews that he had worn since his first show Guy was a relic. He had been on the show since the late 70s and he showed no signs of going anywhere. I imagine there was probably a girl or two in the wings getting ready to snip his career, but maybe she would wait

until he was done with this interview if I was lucky. It's been an amazing ride, Guy, to go from doing something like Roger to starring in a big Hollywood picture like Carter's Promise. The crew I worked with was amazing and it was an honour to work with the beautiful Margot Thames. A wolf whistle came from the back, and the crowd laughed. Speaking of Miss Thames, you two appear to have some real chemistry on screen.

Anything there with you two? The crowd made some owing noises, but I ignored them. And as called acting guy, I can assure you that while Miss Thames is a lovely woman, there is nothing romantic going on between us. That had been by design. That had been me, breaking a habit. I had been lying in a bathtub in New Mexico last year, mostly filled with my own vomit, and looked up stuporiously to see my agent,

Claude, sitting on the toilet with a long-suffering look and puke drying on his shirt. I had been travelling, which is what I called blackout drinking, and I had been hitting it hard the night before. I had come out to my stupor quick enough, though, when Claude told me that he'd been giving me CPR for the last ten minutes. That was a wake-up call. You need to sort yourself out. I'm tired of hauling your ass out of the fire.

I'm your agent, not your mother, and the next time you decide to self-destruct, don't drag me down with you. I had cried, tears, cutting lines through the crime and the puke, and Claudia put her hand on my shoulder. Let me help you. Let me help you get out of this loop.

Claude had dropped me off at rehab the same day. After six months of puking and shaking and going to countless meetings, I felt like I might be getting better. Another six months, and I had been ready to leave and see if I could maintain this new, sober life.

I had made a promise to myself in rehab, I promised that I would do better. Rancho Roger was not the cause of my problems, but here was a symptom. Ranchi Roger liked a party. Roancie Roger liked to sleep with anything with a pulse. Ranchi Roger liked to abuse prescription medication. If I was going to get my life back together, I had to cleave from Rancho Roger. When Claude had come to me with a script for Carter's promise, he had made it clear that I couldn't, quote,

Roger up the set. Rogering up something was a word clawed had for ruining it, and I agreed. I had drunk lemon juice and water, kept up my workout routine, and put nothing stronger than aspirin into my body since coming out of rehab. I said what have accessed the things from my past,

working on a set again would be a real test of my mental. In the eight months of shooting, I had been tempted, but I had not succumbed. I was sitting here now, a better man. This is quite a transition for you, isn't it? From doing something like raunchy Roger to a serious film like Carter Promise. I realised I'd been wall-gathering and snapped out of it.

It was quite a change, but a change for the better, I said, smiling out of the crowd. The audience didn't clap this time, and that seemed a little off-putting. So, Glimnir Studios hasn't issued any statement on what? whether the next Rontie Roger film would come out, cared to give us any insight? I furrowed my brow. Of course, this is why they wanted me here. As far as I know, the series is cancelled.

The last film was the end of them. Several people in the audience gave displeased noises, but somewhere, someone in the back laughed. It was an odd sound amongst the discomfort, and I found myself looking for whoever had made it. I was used to people laughing at me, But it sounded so alien at the moment. It sounded not altogether real.

Guy seemed shocked. After all this time, we're talking about a series that's been going on for nearly seven years. Yes, well, now I've moved on. I think we can finally put the character to rest. In the low rumbles from the crowd, I heard that laughter again. It was subtle, maybe one or two people.

But it rankled me. I searched again for the source, but couldn't see anything. The house lights were always down when someone was on stage, and it made a murky soup out of the audience. The lights in my eyes didn't help much either, and I found myself squinting against them. Well, out of respect for the recently deceased,

maybe you could give us some classic raunchy Roger lines. Guy said, looking out at the audience, who began to clap like good little sheep. I felt like screaming. Claudia told me this interview was about my new movie, not my past. I didn't ever want to think back on those drunken days, those days when Roger had ruled my life.

But it seemed to be all anyone ever wanted. The crowd was actually laughing now, cheering and egging me on. That greating laughter still lingered amongst them. It was like a nice pick against my temple, a mechanical laughter that skittered through the crowd too fast to be discovered. They quieted down when I didn't laugh along with them or stand up to oblige. I don't think so, Guy. I'm here to talk about Carter's promise, not to rehash old material.

I tried to ignore that grating chuckle, but it became harder and harder to keep my call. Oh, come on, just a few bits. What about the priest and the communion wine? I know that always makes me chuckle. How about it, folks? They applauded, but I barely heard them. All I could hear were the giggles, the chuckles, those mean little titters from the lips of fools. Look, I appreciate how many of you are fans of Raunchy Roger, but that's not me anymore.

That's a part of my life that I'm trying to put behind myself, and I just want to forget about it, and move on to more important things. A chuckle rumbled up from the audience. Not altogether the artificial laughter I'd been hearing, and I felt his temper flare. I told the studio I wasn't going to do it anymore, okay? I'm a real actor now, I shouted. The back of the house bubbled with kind of laughter, and I thought I saw people standing up in the back row.

Were they? Smiling? They moved up, blackness swirming in that tepity of shadows that threatened to take in the next row. The scowling faces in front of them also seemed to melt into smiles. They sudden laughed at joining the rising den from the back of the house.

They were laughing. They were laughing at me. I had been laughed at all my life, but this was the first time it had truly made me furious. I'm glad I did it. I killed. old Durranchi Roger. He was made of the

worst, the darkest part of me, and I'm glad he's dead. I shouted at the audience, rising up from the couch and stalking towards them. I bowled my fists. They hadn't come to hear about my new project. They had come to pick the meat of the carcass of my old work. They wanted to hear the jokes

of other lesbian sisters, the nun who moonlight as a dominatrix, the menacing priest that I barely escaped to my youth. They wanted all those Roger classics that had transcended my stand-up and made it onto the screen. Uh, maybe you could calm down a little. Guy began, but I got him off.

I'm not doing this anymore, you hear me? I shouted into the crowd. I'm done dancing for your amusement. Ranchi Roger was a misogynistic dick, a cancer that I had removed. I'm a better person now. I... The crowd erupted into a flurry of that can laughter. They were really laughing now.

They were mocking my suffering. They were mocking my journey. I'd escaped a life that meant to kill me. And these assholes were, were mocking me. They didn't have the slightest idea what it was like to live under the shadow of Rancho Roger. They didn't have any clue

what it felt like to step out from underneath that weight. I'm a real actor, I screamed at them. Not some clown that struts about to make you laugh at his antics. I moved on. Maybe you should move on too. I... I... But, the closer I got to the crowd,

the more I noticed them change. The blackness tore through them like a disease, and what had begun in the back was now rioting through the middle and working its way stage side. The crowd, buried in that hazy blackness, grinned at me with two white smiles and two white teeth. They leered, jumping seats and coming forward in a horror movie shuffle of propelled bodies. I backed away a step, almost tripping on the rug that stretched over the stage. I could hear that can laugher rippling through the whole studio,

and one of the band members began to chortle, even as I backed away. The chortler fell over suddenly, his drummed. set falling with him, and he convulsed as the laughter was ripped from him and became the same mirthless screech that ran through the crowd. Guy began to giggle from behind his desk, the laughter bubbling up painfully as his quaffed flew and his face became a rictus of pain and mirth. I turned to run, the tide of laughter oozing behind me, and ran for the exit door as fast as I could, pumping into the pretty receptionist who would wish me luck. She was already doubled over as the skin began to mottle and run, and I felt fear moved my feet as I charged for the stage door.

I hit it like a fallback, going for a tackle, but bounced off as the door refused to open. I slammed into them again and again, but they wouldn't budge. I turned, running down the hall for the side door, but the laughing was already coming up that way towards me. I was trapped. I'd nowhere to go. There would get me and... I saw the broom closet standing open and dived inside. I sat amongst the mops and cleaning implements, my back against the wall, and a mop stuck up under the door handle to keep it shut. Outside, I could hear things moving. Here their laughter as they got closer and closer.

I took out my phone and tried 911. I could get some help. Someone could surely come to help me. The number rang and rang, and after the 12th ring, I hung up. I called the police, the fire department, and finally called my manager, Claude, when I was sorry. completely out of ideas. If Claude hadn't picked up, my next option was my mother,

whom I hadn't spoken to in years. I think at that point, I just wanted someone to reassure me. Claude picked up in the third ring. What's wrong? You're supposed to be on stage. Claude, something's going on at the studio. People are trying to attack me.

I need help. I need... You? Claude cut in. Who would be trying to attack you? He asked. His voice almost condescending. You'll not.

"'Rawnty, Roger,' he said, laughing a little as he said it. "'Everyone loves you. Why would anyone care enough to hurt someone like you?' He broke into laughs between every word. His laughter cutting and jagged as it seemed to tear his throat apart with his intensity. He howled like a beast on the other end of the phone, and I can imagine him gasping his life away as he laughed on and on. His laughter sounded like the lunatic chorus you'd hear from an asylum's windows. It sounded like the laughter you'd hear in hell. The voice that came back on the phone

was very different. It was liquid, oily, but still recognisable. It was the voice I knew as well as my own. How many times had I cultivated it on stage? How many nights had I talked to myself in just that voice? I found myself

talking to raunch you, Roger himself, and the realization made me shudder. Why would anyone care if you live or die? You stupid hack, they all want me. Wanchi Roger. No one gives a damn about whatever little movie you manage to spew out.

You might as well come out and embrace it, Bucco. I'm not going anywhere. His voice was backlit, overpowered, drowned out by the laughter that suddenly bubbled up from the phone. And I sat against the wall as the laughter on my phone matched the laughter approaching the door. I'm hoping that maybe someone will find this after they get me and know what happened. This wasn't some freak accident It wasn't some publicity stunt I'd be the victim of something

I don't quite understand As I sit here Breathing in the smells of pine-soul and window cleaner I can take solace in the fact that At least I went out clean If this is it Then at least I didn't die a waste of a human being At least I got to make something I could be proud of

Before Ronji Rogers' corpse Finally smothered the life out of me As I'm writing this I suddenly snorted and had to cover my face to stop it. I couldn't help it. Something about the situation was suddenly just so damn funny.