Last Podcast On The Left - Episode 319: Creepypasta XIII - A Meat's Dream

Episode Date: June 2, 2018

It's a return to Creepypasta as we read stories about meat, Daddy Pig, Vice President slashfic, and a mysterious sleep away camp bathroom! 

There's no place to escape to. This is the last talk. On the left. That's when the cannibalism started. What was that? Man, oh man. Have you guys seen Channel Zero on sci-fi? I talked about this a lot. Yes, you have. It's such a good show. It's cheesy. It's such a good show. Well, I just finished Evil Genius, and I already ruined the end for Marcus, and he's very mad at me. Almost immediately. Alright, welcome to the last podcast of the Leftover One. I am Ben Kissel with Marcus Parks, the infirerated Marcus Parks. I'm turning my butt hurt to seven. I'm turning it up.

Yeah, I heard it squeak open, and you already had your butt hurt turned up to a fucking ten last week with your colonoscopy. Oh my goodness, and Henry Zabrowski over there in beautiful Los Angeles. My butthole is intact. It's fine. Have I told everyone about my process where I have a scale next to the toilet? Wait, actually no, but that's what you're talking about, the shaving or the clipping. Why do you have a scale? Okay, hold on. It's because you weigh yourself before and then after you go to the bathroom. Yes. Okay, thank you very much. Alright everyone, we have a special episode. We haven't done one of these in, I feel like it's been two years or something. It's been about eight months. Eight months? Two years? What's the difference, you know?

I want to say it was June of last year. Yeah. So a year? Huh. Alright, we split the difference. We're going to do a creepypasta episode, and my goodness, the internet's been keeping them coming. It's full of them. Kissel, you read these on a regular basis. You tread these waters all the time. I very rarely dip in, only just because they're not as scary anymore. They're coming way more, they're for the children. Right, right. Yes, I have been demonized, criticized for my reading skills. However, that's part of the character, and if you want to listen to me read more creepypastas, go to our Patreon. I think I give a buck or five bucks, and you can listen to me read a bunch of stuff there. It's a lot of fun, and I do a pretty spooky tale if I do say so myself. Yeah, you like to be scary. Yes, I like to read them scary, but it's hard to do, though.

How does your family feel about just how scary you are? My family is proud of me. I paid off my student loan debts. It was the first time my father ever said those words. I'm proud of you. And he was like, I'm proud. Yeah, it was weird to hear. Alright, so before we start this, though, there's a fucking ceremony, Kissel. Oh, that's right. I'm sorry. I forgot. Alright, so if you're babysitting a child, turn off the episode. Good, that's good.

Because you shouldn't be doing this if you have a child. But the child to sleep. You know what's a really good, easy way to sleep? Well, my mom used to do it when I was too much as a little boy. She'd just give me Benadryl and I'd go to sleep. Yeah, which I think it was Casey Anthony did with Yanny or Laurel the nanny. Which did you hear? I heard, kill, kill, get the gun. Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot. But yeah, so if there's a child there, knock them out so they can't see what you do. First of all, if you got a tight little shirt on, get one of those nail clip and scissors and cut the very bottom of it and rip it slowly up.

And just reveal your body to yourself. Have you ever done that? I don't. We're doing research. By the time you hear this, you will have heard our story of Mr. Nielsen. And so very much so like Mr. Nielsen did. I don't think that you should do that. If you were nipples or pink, if your nipples are brown, if you've gotten ghost nipples, if you've got big old, long, droopy, child-rearing nipples. Play with them a little bit just to be like, I'm alive, I'm here, I'm present. But you don't have to do that.

Every day is a gift. Well, that's true. That's true. That's when they call it the present. And then I want you to go, first of all, if you've got any CBD cream, you can add that to it. Start with the feet, work it up to the ankles. Get yourself good and numb. Then you put it on the top of your back and on your chest so you smell like an old man, but you feel like a fucking wizard.

Then go, what I've been doing now, I've got some CBD pills that I'll pop, or CBD cookies. Get yourself some 15 milligrams. Those are the ones that are really level you out like you don't exist anymore. Microdosing. Yeah, dude. Microdosing does help some. Okay. And then go and fucking get some of that fucking pesto, man. Get some of that.

Because now it's just like it's all like brown rocks. It sort of looks like crack. I think you might be doing dark. I think you might be doing heroin. I know. It's just brown. Get that brown nugget. I got some new granddaddy perp that somebody sent me.

And it's really fucking purples. Big fucking little eyeballs that go in that fucking troll doll. And pop in your fucking top of your fucking pipe. Because that's the only way that you could properly be scared. I want you to be scared just by the fact. I want you to be so high, but at the time that you listen to this, you're scared that you're listening to voices. Oh, that's good.

That you forgot that you've been doing a podcast. So you're going with a pipe for this session of Creepypasta, not a large hog's leg of a joint, huh? You know, sometimes a pipe is nice because then with the joint, sometimes when you're smoking alone, you waste a bunch of weight. Sure. That's a good point. All right.

It's about preservation. Conservation. Conservation. There it is. All right. Who wants to start? Who wants to go first here? I say, Kissel, you go first.

You're fucking screwed. All right. I'll go first. Now, this one, it's interesting. Now, this is the first ever Creepypasta about Jason Voorhees. My personal... How do you know this? Because it literally says first ever Creepypasta, Jason Voorhees.

You're just going to believe whatever the internet says. Uber Robin Nova? Yeah. I think I'll believe her. So Jason Voorhees, my personal favorite. Who doesn't relate to a boy who got picked on at summer camp and was left to drown and then came back to haunt that summer camp later? He really lives the dream of every boy or girl who was bullied in the past.

Yes. You got to respect Jason Voorhees. By murdering everyone? Well, people who murdered him or at least let him die. You're right. Okay. So now this one has a lot of dialogue, so it's going to be called... It will be what I call a waking nightmare to do.

Are you going to do voices? I will not be doing voices. Then how will we know who's going to be talking and what characters are speaking? It does say who spoke after I speak the words that they spoke. So we're not going to know who spoke until after the line is read? I can do it before. Should we start with Marcus? Has the show started?

I should restart it. Creepy pasta. Okay. So the story begins. Hey, have you seen Jason? No. He said a girl. I'm sorry.

That's true. Hey, have you seen Jason? He said a girl. Why do you want to know where that freak is? He said a boy. Don't call him a freak. That's what the girl said, trying to defend Jason. And then the boy said this back to her.

He said, it's the truth. The kid has an ugly face. He's never going to get any girl with that. And the boy said that with a grin. Meanwhile, at Jason's house. Ma'am? Jason's house? Yes, we're at Jason's house. Shit.

Ma'am said Jason. Yes, my dear, said his mother. And then he followed that up with, why do all the kids hate me? Isn't that sad? I didn't think Jason had the power of speech. Yeah, he died. Well, it's more like that, but she understands because she's his mother. Okay.

And then so he's wondering, why don't one of the kids like me? And then this is what his mom had to say in return. She said, Jason, don't say that. They are just jealous of how handsome you are. That's what his mom said back to him. Kind of a lie, but that's okay. Moms are allowed to lie if it makes their kid feel good. And then Jason said, but mom, we can't even pay our bills.

So Jason's concerned. And then she said, just because we can't pay our bills doesn't mean you can't look great. That's true. That is true. Yeah, that's true. And then Jason said, yeah, I guess I'll be in my room, mom. Okay, Jason said his mother. And then when she said that, she was smiling.

In Jason's room, picks up brochure. Camp Crystal Lake, huh? Sounds kind of fun. He actually says interesting, but I'm going to say sounds kind of fun. Maybe I can make some friends there. He runs back upstairs. Mom. That's what Jason said.

Yes, Jason. Look, mom sees brochure. Camp Crystal Lake. Do you want to go there? Said Jason's mother. Do you want to go there? Don't go there. Camp Crystal Lake.

Do you want to go there? That's what Jason's mom said. And Jason said, yes. Okay, Jason says his mother still looking at the brochure, but aren't you afraid that kids will make fun of you? And then Jason said, no, maybe some of them will just like me. Okay, I guess, said his mother unsure. Is this a screenplay? No, it's a creepypasta.

And then Jason says, thanks, mom. And then Jason runs around the room. So he's just kind of running around there. How are the commercial auditions going? Real good. It's almost like I'm so good they don't even call me in anymore. They're like, he's past this. Okay, so Jason looks at the brochure for Crystal Lake, Camp Crystal Lake.

He says, I want to go. Mom says, okay, but the kids will make fun of you. Cut to. He's at Camp Crystal Lake. Okay, now this is said by a lady. Okay, so who here is new to Camp Crystal Lake? Everyone raises their hand. So does it say camp counselor or just lady?

It says lady. And then, so everyone raises their hand. I'm new, I'm new, I'm new, I'm new. And then they say, I can see why this place is a dump. Said some kids whispering to each other. In cabin where Jason sleeps. Cut to, in cabin where Jason sleeps. Who do we have here?

Looks like another freak said people who were being harsh on Jason. My mother said I'm special, said Jason. My mother said I'm special. Will, will, will, will, will, well, it's kind of a misspelling there. Will your mother, well, your mother, they say wheel, but it is well. Well, my mother said I'm special. And then they, they respond to that with this. Well, your mother is probably blind.

Look at you. You'll never be cool like us. You little freak. And then Jason says, shut up. And then they say, oh, little freak. Oh, little freak standing up to the big dude. I see. Well, let me show you something.

You little freak. That's that boy said that holds onto Jason shirt and drags him on to the docks. You got something else you want to say to me, said the boy. And Jason says, you suck. Boy looks around and sees that the counselors aren't looking. Hey, everybody, who wants to drown this little crap? Everyone says yes. They call them a little crap.

Everyone says yes. Hey, you kid said the boy who was bullying Jason. Me? Yes, you bring me a bag, said the bully. Okay, said the kid. Let's see how you like things over your head. Jason said the bully puts the bag over Jason's face. No.

Said Jason. Well, struggling everyone. So this is just the manga version of Friday, the 13th part. Not sure what that means, but everyone at one. Let's all everyone at one. Let's all push Jason into the water. The bully said, no, starts counting down three. Please.

No. Two. No. God said, it said Jason running out of breath. One. All the kids pushed Jason into the lake one year later. They pushed him in the lake one year later. No, no, this is one year later.

Like when we did our last creepypasta. And then this is, okay, then Jason's mother is talking to the counselors. Why didn't you save my son? And then said Jason's mom running after one of the counselors. And then the woman said, the counselor said, no, please don't kill me. Woman sees ax on ground. Get away from me. Cuts off Jason's mom's head. 12 years later.

Cut to 12 years later. My little boy, his name is Jason. Said his mother in Jason's head. And he'll do whatever mother says like a good little boy. Rise, Jason. Whatever happens, you will never die. Fine. Cool.

Very good. You put a lot more gusto into that than I've heard you do anything in a long time. It's my boy Jason. You got to show props. But technically, I would say that that is fan fiction. Yes. That's not necessarily creepypasta. That's not a creepypasta.

That's fan fiction. Well, this episode's about fan fiction too. I guess it is. It can be, obviously, with last time we discovered. Last time I learned all about lemons. Oh yes, that's right. Yeah. Thank God I'm not going to read any of that again.

Thank God. That was a good story though. I like it. It's an interesting story. It's a story we know. Yeah. It's nice that they see you flesh out. It's the same exact story we know just with dialogue.

Yeah. The things that are completely against the character of the participants. Slightly worse dialogue than the actual movie. Which doesn't really have great dialogue to begin with. But yeah. Okay, great. Cool. I like the way Kevin Bacon is killed in that movie.

Yeah. Always do. I love, Friday the 13th, I will always like, I mean, I do connect Jason to you, Kissel. Of course. Only just because of the breathing. Oh well, that's true. And the being bullied because you're big and you want to come back. But wasn't he tiny when he was, because every time-

No, he was still big. He was big for his age. Okay. Yes, and he had, he probably had Elephant Man, whatever that is. Elephant Man. Elephant Man. Yeah. No, what do you call the disease with the elephant?

His face was all funny. Well, it's tumors. Elephantitis. It's Elephantitis. No, Elephantitis is some completely different. No, it's not Elephantitis. What is that? No, Elephantitis is when you got like big parts and Elephant Man had tumors all over his body.

That's why he was all fucked up. Yeah, and then he's like, it is a tumor. Oh gosh, this is- Just kill me, kill me. Do you, who wants to go next? You know what, Henry? I think you just volunteered. I think you did.

This is a fun, cute story called They're Made Out of Meat by Terry Bison, a science fiction writer, and I thought that this was a cute story. They're made of meat. Meat? Meat. They're made out of meat. Meat? There's no doubt about it.

We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat. That's impossible. What about the radio signals, the messages to the stars? They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines. So who made the machines?

That's who we want to, that's who we want to contact. They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines. That's ridiculous. Is this like an alien who's on first? Yes, it is. You're asking me to believe in sentient meat.

I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they're made out of meat. Maybe they're like them, the aura fly. You know, the carbon based intelligence that goes through a meat stage. Nope. They're born meat, they die meat. They study them for several of their life spans. Who should take long?

Do you have an idea what's the life span of meat? Spare me. Okay, well maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the way to lay. The meat head with an electron plasma brain inside. Nope, we thought of that. Since they do have meat hands, like the wheat lay. But I told you, we probed them.

They're meat all the way through. No brain? Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made of meat. That's what I'm trying to tell you. So, what does the thinking? You're not understanding, are you? You're refusing to deal with what I'm telling you.

The brain does the thinking, the meat. Thinking meat. You're asking me to believe in thinking meat. Yes, thinking meat, conscious meat. Loving meat, dreaming meat. The meat's the whole deal. Are you beginning to get the picture? Or do I have to start all over?

My God, you're serious then. They're made out of meat. Thank you. Yes, they are indeed made out of meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost 100 of their years. Oh, my God. So, what does this meat have in mind? First, it wants to talk to us.

Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, and swap ideas and information as usual. We're supposed to talk to meat? That's the idea. That's the message they're sending up by radio. Hello, anybody out there? Anybody home? That sort of thing.

They actually do talk then. They use words, ideas, concepts? Oh, yes, except they do it with the fucking meat. I thought you just told me they use radio. They do. But do you think it's... What do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds.

You know how when they slap, when you slap and you flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat. They love singing meat. This is all together too much, so what do you advise? Officially or unofficially? Both. Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in.

Any and all sentient races are multi-beings in the quadrant of the universe without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing. I was hoping that you'd say that. It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat? I agree with 100%. What's there to say?

Hello, meat. How's it going? But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here? They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through sea space, which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infantesimal, in fact.

So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe. That's it. Cruel. But you said it yourself. Who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probe, you sure they won't remember? They'll be considered crackpots if they do. They went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that they're just a dream to them.

A dream to meat? How is strangely appropriate that we should be a meat's dream? And we mark the entire sector unoccupied. Good. Agreed. Officially, unofficially, case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?

Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class 9 star in G445 zone. Contact two galactic rotations ago wants to be friendly again. Well, they always come around. And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if we were all alone. All right. I like that. I like that.

Meat. Meat. Yeah, I like that. And I could see that because you figured they might be kind of a cyborg, maybe a robot type speech. But they're made of meat. Well, we are the meat. Are we the meat? Oh, without a doubt, that's where they're probing us.

And yes, and all we just flap our meat, breath comes through our meat. That's how we make all the sounds. Air comes through the meat making song. I thought it was cute. I think that is cute. It is really cute. All right. Kind of scary too.

And a weird kind of clacks our way. I actually thought that they did a good job with encompassing the alien perspective onto us. Got a little popcorn chicken in Henry there. Is it popcorn shrimp Fridays? This one's filled with shit. Yeah, yeah, yeah. One pound exactly. All right, I'm going to hit you guys with a quick one, two punch.

All right. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Real quick, couple of them. The first one's called quiet girl. Ooh, okay. She was always very quiet in the class. Sitting at one corner huddled up. No one talked to her, not even teachers.

Then I realized the girl never existed for decades. All right, real quick. Here's the other one. It's called two dogs. Okay. My son cried when I killed both of his dogs today. I didn't tell him why. But last night while he slept, I overheard the dogs talking to each other.

Why would you kill those dogs? You sell those dogs. Honestly, I got it. If they are talking, maybe you have to take some executive action to each other. Come on, man. I would ask their thoughts. I would love to hear a dog. I think the movie up really captured what a dog thinks about.

They would be prescribed ADHD medication immediately. Oh, yeah. All right. Well, very scary stuff. That is very scary. What was the first one again, Marcus? Can you read that one again? She was always very quiet in the class.

Sitting at one corner huddled up. No one talked to her, not even teachers. Then I realized the girl never existed for decades. Shut up! Oh my God, for decades. She never existed for decades. Wow. All right.

Well, this one is a doozy. It says eight-minute read. Oh my God. We'll put that into the guilt calculation. That's about a 25-minute read. That's a 25-minute read. Are you sure you're going to read all of this? Hey, buddy, on the Patreon, I read a 25-minute story.

Wow. Yes, 25 minutes. This one's called Sleepy Trove. Have you read this one yet? No. No. I don't like to read. I like to be surprised with the audience.

Oh, OK. OK. So you like to be surprised by your own reading. Yeah. Well, that's the point of reading. It hits you. You say it out loud, and then it hits you about a half second later too. Do you ever guys ever do that thing with your middle of reading,

where you forget how to read? And then you have to sit and think about what reading is. You can caught in a loop. Tell me more now. How much are you microdosing? I think you're macrodosing at this point. I've been doing it a lot. Sometimes the words will be like, why the heck is the spell like that?

You know? Why? You know? Like knife. Why? Like you get caught up on knife. Yeah, knife. Knife was a, yeah.

There was a word recently that I was trying to write. It was like, what was it? It was chic. You need to get into the study of etymology. What's that? It's the study of the word origins. If there was a person I would volunteer to be a, the man who was in charge of the origins of all words,

I would choose kissle. This one's called sleepy trove. Okay. Here it comes. Get ready for it. Sleepy trove. How well do you trust exits and turnoffs that dot your local interstate highway? I tell this story to make you reconsider taking such detours.

Holy hell. I didn't even realize. Nothing but trouble. That's the whole plot. Look at that. We're already there. Okay. So let's restart.

How the hell. How well do you trust the exits and turnoffs that dot your local interstate highway? I tell this story to make you reconsider taking such detours. Well, driving through heavy rain on the Ohio Turnpike last year, I caught sight of a plain looking sign during an upward battle with my eyelids to stay open. The word sleep was in the title. After what seemed to be just a few moments later, another brown sign, even rustier than before came into view.

Sleepy trove rest stop one mile ahead. It read, as I passed this second sign, I felt an intense numbing feeling drape over my whole body. I was tired and I couldn't deny it to myself any longer. I swerved and succeeded in pulling off at that exit. For a minute or more as I followed the dimly lit turnoff, the rain continued to pour down as I told myself I made the right decision. Looking back now, I tell myself that I would have turned off

even if the rest stop name hadn't comprised the word sleep in the title. But now, but I'm not convinced of that because not so subliminal advertising works well when you're tired. I think I'm starting to see why this story is eight minutes long. Okay. It's eight minutes sleepy, sleepy trove. And he's pulling off there. I'm assuming it's a guy could be a gal as well. We haven't clarified gender here. Thank you, Kissel.

Sleepy trove rest stop one mile ahead. So they pulled over there or he pulled over or she pulled over there because they're tired. I had been driving home from college for a weekend break, for I knew I needed a lazy weekend getaway and was looking very much forward to my mom's cooking and crashing in my old bedroom. But I couldn't help but my thoughts or rather my dreams about my bed seemed to lead me to make a, seemed to lead me to make my last second decision

to pull off the road and follow the strange brown colored sign to sleepy trove rest stop. Sleepy trove rest stop. Yeah. Sleepy trove rest stop. Yeah, they pulled over there. Well, you know, that's what they're really letting you know what's going on there. Think about the bed and stuff. Really making sure there's no ambiguity here.

No, absolutely not. But yeah, I don't need a mystery. I don't like a mystery. I don't like when shows focus on the mystery. I like characters and I like fun scenes. Yep, just the facts max please here. Immediately, I wished I hadn't. Oh, so this is kind of a turn in the story.

Okay, so here's where it turned. This is where it starts getting. Immediately, I wish I hadn't. Okay. Of course, turned on to the sleepy trove rest stop. Gave me the juice. Instead of the usual Turnpike service plaza, there was only a block of restrooms

lit solely by my headlights as I parked in front. Mine was the only car to grace the cement structure, which was not too surprising because it was after midnight, and maybe the more seasoned travelers had known the lack of Starbucks and McDonald's at the sleepy trove. The absence of restaurant logos upon the rest stop sign should have been a warning, but as I say, I was tired. At first I was relieved to be alone,

but despite feeling somewhat safe, I locked my door before reclining my seat. So the door is locked, feel somewhat safe, but I'll recline my seat here and try to take a little nap. With my vehicle engine off and the rain easing, I could now listen to a paranormal talkback show. I don't know what a talkback show is. I think it's a Coast to Coast AM.

It's referred to as a paranormal radio talkback show that seemed to be the only strong signal all night. Besides my circadian rhythm telling me to pass out, that is, the guest on the radio. So, okay, yeah, so the only strong signal that I besides, the radio was the only strong signal besides this person's circadian rhythm telling him to pass out or her to pass out, that is.

Not really a signal. It's not really coming from outside. It is not. It does not matter. Sleepy trove. The guest on the radio program was talking about missing people all over the U.S. and how there were clusters of disappearances near national

parks. I turned it off. Not because I was getting scared or anything, but because the guest's final conclusion was that the perpetrator was, in fact, Bigfoot. Ah, very good. Okay, okay, okay, that's starting to cook up. It's been there.

Sleepy trove coming through. So, the person's like, it's a Bigfoot, which he annoyingly called Sasquatch to lend undue scientific-sounding weight to his premise. As the rain dwindled away, the unmistakable heaviness in my bladder became harder and harder to ignore. That beer I shared at my buddy Dave's before I left, did I write this?

I think you may have. You may have. I think this might be a bad kiss of the original. Beer at Dave's house. Yeah. That seems to be, but they shared it. So, he's under. He's under.

He's sober. Okay, technically. So, the rain was dwindling, unmistakable. The bladder's becoming fuller. That beer I shared at my buddy Dave's before I left was no doubt the culprit. The thing was, I didn't even like using those pretty bathrooms at Macy's, let alone this run-down, no

doubt spider-infested truckers dump. But since the rain had stopped and nobody else was around at the moment, I convinced myself it was the best time to go. Unlocking my door, I dashed over to the men's interest. Luckily, a single bulb hanging down from the cobweb ceiling lit the cubed, windowless room.

There was an empty energy drink bottle in the single sink, a discarded hooded raincoat in the corner, and when I hoped it was just rainwater soaking the yellow-tiled floor. As I made use of the stained, stainless steel urnol, the heavy downpour of rain began again like applauding angels. The roof was bombarded with water and sound

reverberated throughout the bathroom. Even through the rain, I still couldn't mistake the sound of my car's engine starting up. I zipped up and bolted to the entrance, almost slipping over. Okay, I did slip over. But I stumbled up just in time to see my tail light speed away back towards the interstate before

vanishing in the watery curtain of the blasted storm. His car has been stolen. Oh. I stepped back into the restroom, checking my pockets and realizing that I indeed had left the keys in the ignition. Someone must have been waiting in anticipation for

me to finally get out of my car. Someone who had obviously got his courage from the energy drink in the sink. I cursed the Big Foot Man on the radio in anger for causing me to leave the keys in the ignition to listen to his dribble. Curse you, Big Foot Man. But soon, but soon relief washed over as I pulled

out my cell phone. I would call the police and they would head, and they would, they could head the thief off with a roadblock and bring my car right back. But I was back to, but I was back cursing Dr. Sasquatch as soon as I saw there was no reception in the urine-soaked hellhole. It was then that I would, it was then as I was

moving about the restroom, trying to find a signal that I first saw it. Well, I had, of course, noticed it earlier. The industrial blue hooded rain jacket plopped in the corner had been there all along. But now out of the corner of my eye, it shuffled over so slightly. I stepped away, afraid there was a rat or

something inside. Staring at the half sitting up jacket, I realized something about it unnerved me. It was sprinkled with water, but, but was again against the far wall where rain couldn't have possibly reached it. There was also something else that caused me to shiver.

A rusty old chain was attached to the tiled wall and metal links trailed up the jacket sleeve. At that point, I noticed I had moved all the way to the door. Eerily, I stared at the strange looking jacket as the bashing deluge upon the roof almost deafened my ears and with what my mind began panicking.

My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest, having my back already drenched from the downpour. I made the decision to get away and try to find a signal on my phone and to also think clearly away from the noisy ceiling. I first considered heading for the road and trying to flag down a car or truck, but knew

they wouldn't see me on the rain-swept road. Instead, I circled back of the, I circled, I circled around the back of the restroom block using my phone as a light and light source and constantly checking the bars for reception. I futilely texted a quick response, a quick message to my friend Dave, stuck at sleepy

trove rest stop, stuck at sleepy trove rest stop on Turnpike. Come help. Is it still raining? I don't know. I think it's still raining. 16 Dave. All right.

Six more minutes. All right. Six more minutes. I don't know. Six more minutes. I don't know. All right. I was so fixated at seeing a signal icon that

my feet almost stepped into a lake that was down a slight hill from the restroom. Looking across the rather large lake, I could see what looked like a little house lit up against the night darkness. After my eyes adjusted, I made out the houses were on an island and they were not houses at all.

The lights were coming from one facility. It was a collection of huts and cabins circled by a veranda. Is that where Bigfoot lives? I don't know. Very much like a campground as there was still no activity on my phone. I followed the lake for a few minutes until

coming to an ancient half sunken, missing plain dwarf. There was one corrugated iron sign that when illuminated by my phone, read Sleepy Trove Boy Scout Camp. Ah. Okay. So now we're at the Sleepy Trove Rest

Stop and now we're at the Sleepy Trove Boy Scout Camp. Okay. It's all coming together. Looks like you got a kind of a theme here. Yeah. Yeah. A lot of happening here in the Sleepy Trove.

You're in deep. Yeah. Okay. I immediately glanced back over the set of the cabins across the lake but could see no sign of them anymore. I assumed trees or some other mass were blocking the lights from that position,

walking back the way I had come to recapture the previous view of the faraway campground. I quickly realized that all of the lights must have been turned off. Had they seen me or was it simply a coincidence? Maybe the lights had been on a timer or the storm had knocked the power out. As the rain soaked me to the bone, I

worried about damaging my phone and hurried back to the restroom block. This time I went into the ladies room and to my disappointment, it was no nicer than the men's. I then made a silent prayer to use and enjoy the Macy's bathroom if I ever got out of this place.

As I clenched paper towels over my phone to dry it, I thought I saw one reception bar flied across the screen. I clicked on the connectivity option and was surprised to find a Wi-Fi connection. What is this? What is this kid? I don't know.

I'm the only thing he pauses. They add like seven extra words. I don't know. Okay. Tapping it so quickly that I almost splintered my phone, I joined the free Wi-Fi of Sleepy Trove Boy Scout camp. Okay.

The name unnerved me as by the looks of it that the name unnerved me as by the looks of that wharf. Surely no Boy Scouts have been over that over that little island since the dawn of the internet. Okay, he continues. The signal strength was weak, but my

phone's search engine, it's longer than I expected. It is. Eight minutes is a long time. I guess so. The signal strength was weak. My phone's search engine popped right up.

I had never been more curious and since none of my friends, family or Dave, I don't know why Dave isn't just one of his friends, but family or Dave would be none of my Dave's. None of his Dave's would be on Facebook this early. I typed in Sleepy Trove Boy Scout camp

and words like abandoned, haunted, trespass, disappearances, cults, cryptids, and urban exploration littered webpage descriptions. Because clicking on the links failed all I gathered most information from search results. It continues. Sleepy Trove camp had apparently closed

in 1982 after several boys had been violently disassembled by an unidentified hostile force. Okay, they're ghosts in the... Where is the sex? I don't know. They're ghosts in the unidentified hostile force are said to badly haunt the area.

Right as I read that bit of chilling information, the shared wall with the men's room that I had previously been in began banging. The source of the commotion originated from a rusty square panel about ankle height, realizing that it was the backing to the chain that was attached to the

jacket made me shudder. Someone or something was yanking on that chain like a game of tug-of-war. A blood-freezing scream then echoed from the neighboring restroom before the banging ended abruptly. I heard someone running outside when the heavy footsteps sounded like they were

far enough away. I ventured out of the safe ladies room and headed back to the men's, guided only by the light on my trusty phone. I remember passing by a newly arrived car before heading into the bathroom as my perception became a deafening warpy blur. As I stepped into the men's bathroom again,

fear of the worst sense of dread rushed over me as I laid eyes on a very dead figure slumped against the urinal. Their grotesque twisted body was that of my friend Dave! Dave! Dave! He's dead! It turned out he had received my text message after all.

His face was contorted in an agonizing explosion of frozen terror. Blood now covered the urine-soaked tiles and the jacket from the corner was now lined, discarded by the door, covered in blood and large chunks of brown dirty hair. Okay, the chain had been ripped out of the

wall as well. Whoever or whatever had been trapped there, but had been trapped there, had been awoken and was now free. The next thing I clearly remember is hearing my screams mixed with the sound of Dave's car horn as my fist beat the steering wheel. I've done a little research since that

horrifying night. My car was found just one stop down the turnpike. Traces of similar filthy brown hair were discovered on the driver's seat. The police said they were an adult, whereas the hair from the restroom was from a child, both most likely that of a

primate. I let my parents handle, I let my parents handle liaison with the police after that. I don't know what the lights I saw over at the Sleepy Trove Boy Scout camp that night were, but I often imagined they lived there and traveled to the

structures and facilities that Dothi mainland. Jesus Christ, just get to the point of it. One paragraph left. trespassing on the Boy Scout camp island can bring with it a thousand dollar fine, but I wouldn't even go back

if they paid me that much. It's not like I could return anyway. The Sleepy Trove Exit is gone and the restroom block has been torn down. Try searching for it online or Heaven Forbid on the turnpike itself and you won't find any trace of it, but I fear as we move further and further away from

them, they will continue to encroach more and more upon us. So, uh, Sleepy Trove. What a long-winded, mostly story about bathrooms. Yeah, I don't know. I'm just glad they got so many details in there.

It had a 7 out of 7. That's a 77. That's a solid C plus. Yeah. From who? Lost and broken children? I don't know, man. But, okay.

What a tale. Here we go. This is mine. As soon as your mind registered that you were within the safe confines of the mansion, you stretched up your arms letting loose a groan of part discomfort and part pleasure.

Staying behind you was your long-time master, Slender Man. Ooh. He gazed in your direction, watching your back arches you stretched, a tugging feeling in his lower stomach burned dully in the tall being. He took notice of your scrapes and

bruises, the splotches of dust and mud that scattered your clothes, and even the way your posterior held its firm shape from behind the hole in your pants. A peek of your silky panties tempted him so. This is not erotica.

This is scary. No, this is scary. Okay. Relaxing from your stretch, you rustled your hands through your hair to get out the tiny sticks and leaves that have become entangled in it. Man, you groaned.

I swear those humans are getting tougher to hunt each time we go. Slender Man hummed an amusement, fighting to keep his mind at least partially out of his fantasy. Are you feeling over challenged by your hunts?

Perhaps I did. Perhaps I did begin searching for a new proxy. He teased you. Knowing that your pride was one of your few weaknesses. You've been a proxy of Slender Man for several years now, replacing the

loss of Maskey and Hoodie after the tragic battle with Tim. I try to get into last time what the world of Slender Man is tedious and long. Right, do you remember where you were

during the tragic battle with Tim? Yeah, I was with my friend Dave. I was going to get in my car, but I was like, I gotta have a cup of beer before I drive. After so much time, you had excelled in your skills and impressed Slender Man each day. The two of you even grew close

as companions, but never crossed the line between master and proxy. This is scary. It was a shame, really. The only other male you knew was Tiki Tobi if he was already taken. I don't know. Okay.

All you had left was the only Hawaiian guy in town and he was like, can you not call me Tiki Tobi? Hey guys. I'm barely Hawaiian. I wasn't even born there. I moved there when I was three and I left when I was nine. All you had left was your master and somehow he seemed

more attractive each time you looked at him. Planting your hands firmly on your hips and spinning around on your heel, you puffed out your chest and gawked at Slender Man. It's actually about time they started becoming a challenge. How else am I going to get better at what I do? You winked at your master and turned back around and head down to the hallway

to your room. I need a shower and new clothes. You rhetorically announced you swaggered your shapely buttocks as you walked away having fun with giving your old master a silly attitude that he found amusing. Ooh, it sounds like dusty roads.

The very thought of your battered skin soaking in warm, soapy water had Slender Man burning from the inside. The waistband of the tall one's pants felt as though they were tightening around his waist. The thoughts of you lathering your body with this sweet smelling bath soap. He only wished that he were the one to

lather you up. So why not make that wish come true? Slender Man loosened the deep red tie around his neck slipping it off and tossing it to the floor. Following your trail to your room, hoping to catch you at just the right time, he slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket.

Remember, he's in full fucking suit. Letting it relax and around his torso and slide casually from his shoulders. Alright? Some of your humming drifted from within. Tempting Slender Man to just burst in there and take you as you were, but he had a plan. I do like that this is your erotica

just like, alright? So he takes off his jacket, alright? Hey, does it gay? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. The gentle sensation of unknown things running over your skin send shivers through you, hardening your small pink nipples almost immediately. This is scary.

This sensation was different than the warm water though. It was running up over your body rather than down to continue to run its way up your back into your shoulder blades before you could move your head forward to inspect what was going on. You found yourself in a passionate kiss from someone much taller than yourself.

The water running off your face prevented you from inhaling through your nostrils, thus leaving you incapable of smelling who could possibly be doing this to you. Something strange about that kiss gave away your intruder's identity. However, there was no orifice for you to insert your tongue. All that you kissed

was a skillful pair of muscles covered by silky flesh. You eventually placed your hands forward and pushed onto Slender Man's chest so that you could breathe. Your head leaned down so that the water would enter your mouth as fair as you wiped away the water that crawled over your closed eyes. You blinked

in a focus only to find a massive white appendage staring straight at you. It had a blue vein spiraling around its shaft, pulsing with loads of energy. Spiraling? Yeah. Your eyes rose slowly under, man. The whole time Slender Man

was running his sharp fingers down your sides continuing down your waist, trailing the curves of your hips. He grabbed ahold of your firm rear as soon as you made eye contact with his lacking face. You could feel your lower stomach burn with the desire you'd only satisfied on your own. Master, what's gotten

into you, you mumbled. Not even sure if you cared if he answered. A seductive hum rumbled from within Slender Man's chest reverberating against your body in hands. You teased me to this point. He cooed and you rolled his hips against yours, rubbing the incredible length of his member against

your throbbing clitoris. A gasp escaped you to feeling a pleasure. You couldn't help but return the favor as you rolled your hips and rhythm to your masters. The grippy and your butt cheeks tightened. His claws almost digging in your chest. Soft, silky tendrils wrapped around your legs and held your upper back

against your master. All at once Slender Man lifted you up and spun you around and pressed you against the shower straw. His tendrils pulled at your lower legs to wrap around his waist, but you were already moving them away. The feeling of only half of Slender Man's rock-hard erection. Being squeezed

between the lips of your vagina had you bite in your lip for him to actually enter you. Raising your arms to link around your master's neck. You lifted yourself up to get it better. Pressing your breasts against Slender Man's firm chest. Alright, I think that this needs to come with a caption not to be read out loud

by the Polish. What are you talking about? Some of my clitoris there's another thing down here. Oh yeah, I don't think I can make another one. That's absolutely fucked. He came all over her belly. Okay. Okay, yeah, and then he said, I don't think I can make another round. You admitted

ice-filling droop, but even though your master was still playing with your soft chest cushions. Ugh. Oh, man. Slender Man hummed to himself firmly against you. What a shame! But I suppose it is a bit unfair to do this directly after a lengthy

mission. Alright. And that's it. Be fucked again. Did you orgasm? Oh, okay. Here it is. You're reaching out a pinch of clitoris knowing you need to catch up with Slender Man so you wouldn't come too much later than he did. Your legs wrapped around his waist

almost as if it were instincts. Slender Man creased the speed of his thrusting, slapping skin against skin as your juices leaked out of your vagina. Well, I just want to say thank you so much for coming into the meeting here with Showtime. Unfortunately, we're going to have to reject this red shoe diary script. There's something just like

super kind of like, I think it's called fucked. You let me finish my pitch! Okay, well, please. The warmth of his body quickly returning from tiring the weights of your eyelids to which you flooded in an attempt to stay awake just a little bit longer and gentle kiss was planted into the top of your head. The rumbling

of your master's voice reverberating all around you as he spoke softly. I do believe we've broken the barrier between master and proxy. Alright. And you let out a faint chuck. You're allowed to keep the water. You can keep

the water. Is this free water? That's free for you. Free for you. Just get it. Do you validate? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Awesome. Well, that was a good story. I mean, honestly, there has to be people that were

aroused by definition. Very much so. Yes, I think it could have been hot if it was read by like Rhonda from Up All Night on the USA Network back in the day. Maybe that could have, yeah. The problem is the only other one I found that was kind of vaguely erotic. I started with mmm.

Oh, oh yeah. Don't stop. Mmm. I love listening to my brother when he was like this. Having a healthy dream. Alright, well that's fine. Good job. Well, you technically... Yeah, you chose the right one there. No one is just the popcorn in the beginning of that one, but...

Because Slenderman has twins that are in there and it has a whole world of stuff for them blowing each other. All the boy brothers all having sex. I totally get it. When I was growing up um... Oh, Jesus. Nightmare Before Christmas. No, no, no. Nightmare Before Christmas. The ladies love

Jack. Yeah. But like really like Jack. Yeah, of course. You know, and they were into him. Okay. Yeah, he's a got, he's a goth. He's the ultimate goth BF. Yes, and that's when, that's when my weight issues started. They like him thin. Yeah. But now as you get older, they like him bigger. No. It's very tough to keep up.

All right. My next story is called Peppa Pig. Daddy Pig's Revenge. Oh, I like it. I like Peppa Pig when I was a little boy. But what I watched

scared the frick out of me. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Oh, man. You only have so much frick in you. So if you get that scared out of you, that's not good. One time, I was going downtown to find some Peppa Pig DVDs.

But everywhere I go. Yeah. Yeah. Everywhere I go, I couldn't find anything. I was about to give up and go back home. But I found one more shop. It was Walmart. Oh. But I asked myself, why is Walmart in the United Kingdom? So I took

a look and in there there was a bunch of DVDs of shows like Pocoyo and Pingu Baron the Big Blue House Teletubbies and even Arthur. I've seen almost every episode

of those shows, but never seen those episodes on those DVDs. So I found a Peppa Pig DVD with two episodes called Daddy Pig Loses the Race. I don't like Daddy Pig. I don't know what's going to happen.

And Daddy Pig's Revenge. Oh, for losing the race, maybe. I decided to buy Oh, maybe. Maybe. Maybe. I decided to buy the DVD because it was the only Peppa Pig DVD there. Of course. And I got out to buy some Peppa Pig DVDs.

Naturally. I put it in my DVD and played all episodes. The beginning of the first one was normal except in the background it was night time and there was blood on the title. Wow. Okay. That's a little bit abnormal, yeah.

Peppa Pig started off with Peppa and her family watching TV and Daddy Pig said that he wanted to race in something, the Olympics or something. The next day Daddy Pig was in the race with some people also racing

and then the race started. Daddy Pig was struggling to get first but then he tripped over and came last place and then he lost. Well, yeah. Daddy Pig was so sad. Right. And her family had to go home and Daddy Pig and Mummy Pig were in bed.

Mummy Pig was asleep but Daddy Pig was awake. Daddy Pig's always awake. Uh-oh. With hyper realistic eyes and he looked very angry. He was mad. I'm very angry.

Oh, man. You could tell I'm a real ass pig and I'm never stupid. Angry Pig, not good. I gotta get revenge on everyone. They gotta pay for it. Alright. Episode ended. Okay.

The next episode didn't have an intro. It started with Daddy Pig going outside and killing everyone. Cool. Peppa Pig woke up and saw him kill everyone. Then Peppa Pig screamed silently and ran down to the cellar.

Then Daddy Pig went back home and went into Peppa and George's room and then Daddy Pig hold the axe in the air. Then George woke up and gasped and then the screen went black and Daddy Pig chopped him up. George is crying. Sounded just like he's crying

from the episode lunch and even Daddy Pig said oh no, no, George. But it sounded like Grandpa Pig. Huh. Interesting. Grandpa Pig. Yes. After that, the screen went back to normal

and Daddy Pig killed Mummy Pig. Then he got a grenade and threw it at Susie's sheep house and the school and after that Peppa Pig got out of the cellar and called the cops about Daddy Pig. Wait. He had a grenade? Pigs can't have grenades. They got no fingers.

Can't use them. Well, Mrs. Rabbit tried to get Daddy Pig but she got chopped up to pieces too. And after that, everyone in Peppa Pig land including Peppa tried to stop him but he had an RPG and shouted at everyone including Peppa.

And Daddy Pig said to the screen with hyper-realistic eyes that were bleeding you humans, I will kill all of you. You made me lose and you made me do this. Oh, man. I wish this was fucking real. Yeah. Whose episode ended?

Oh. I was so scared that I got nightmares about these episodes. I tried telling some of my friends to believe me except my best friend. Dave? No. Okay. I showed him the DVD

and he got scared also but I am beware because Daddy Pig is somewhere. Wow. That is horrifying. That would be cool.

That would be cool as shit. I would love to have seen that show. How many pigs though? Could a pig beat a person in a race? I don't know. I feel like pigs are pretty fast. I think a person could beat a pig in a race pretty easily. I feel like I could beat most pigs.

I don't know, man. What's the average Marcus? I want to find the average speed of a nice hog. I bet you they can go 20 miles an hour. 11 miles an hour. Let's see average speed of a human. That's fun. Four legs versus two legs. That makes a lot of sense.

We are quite faster. I mean, 20 miles per hour. That's maximum. What is the average sprint speed? Say Polish of a Polish person. Average sprint speed, five foot six man,

170 pounds. The fastest among us can sprint at a speed of 15.9 miles per hour for about 13 to 12 seconds. Cool. Usually it's about six miles per hour. There you go. So a pig could win. But that might be the maximum.

That's a lot of math. Actually, pigs average 11 miles per hour. So I think yeah, pig could beat us. Pig could beat us. Pig's hard to beat. I don't know if any of us here could beat a pig. I do not want to try. I don't think so. But a part of it is that because you're racing a pig

and not a person, you can like hit the pig with the wrench. That's true. And then go. Is that illegal? I guess that is animal abuse. It depends if it's pig refs or human refs. That is true. Pig law or human law. Because pig law is severe.

Absolutely. All right. Well, I have one more. Should I read this one now? How many more do you have, Marcus? I've got one more to read. And Henry, you got one more also? I have one more. Here we go. Well,

it's another day out from the office, my friend. Dick Cheney said as he packed up his portfolio and had it out from the Oval Office. He was a son of a former president and he was in the first few days of his job. Well, Dick, I'm going to go home with my family. I'll see you tomorrow

at five for Bible study. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said as she went out from the White House, Cheney couldn't help but smile at her upbeat moments. It's hard to get the Secretary of State to laugh because she was such a serious person. Dick headed out from the office

to his private quarters. He couldn't wait to see his wife, Lynn, and spend the night in her arms. He was excited as a kid who got a new toy for Christmas. He then went down the corridor of the West Wing. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. All of the workers, except the staff

that managed the household, had went home. So the West Wing was vaguely empty. Another day, another, Cheney was cut short by a clatter that arose from the office sex to his door. Who's there? No answer. He then kept on walking. The clatter sounded again

like in the Santa story the night before Christmas. Oh yeah, that's right. What the heck? He asked, no answer. It came from the office of his chief of staff. So as a natural person, he went to check it out. He went to the office and saw nothing. I don't know

what that means. A natural person? Just Dick Cheney being a natural person. I must be hearing things, he said to himself. Dick Cheney neglected to hear someone coming up from behind him. And the last thing you remember was a blow and a bag being put over his head. Dick Cheney woke up

in a dark room and then took in his surroundings. The whole room was dark except for a single light bulb hung from the ceiling. He was lying on a table, face down, and he tried to move and he couldn't. Dick looked down and realized to his shame that he was naked on the table, bearing at all.

He felt a deep tugging on his balls. He saw that they were tied to a pulley with a ball attached to the end of the rope. He then looked up and saw that his wrists were tied behind his back and then he moved his legs and he found out they were shackled to the table. He heard a cackle

and started to sleep and then he heard the cackle in the room. Well hello, Dick. Cheney tense at the voice. It sounded so familiar. It's so foreign at the same time. A dark figure emerged from the shadows. He was clad in a hood and a robe and he looked to be non-human. Let me go.

Dick said as he tried to wrestle as he was away free from the ropes holding him but to no avail. It's no use, Mr. Vice President. You're stuck here. The figure pulled off the hood in the cloak and Dick couldn't help but stare in horror. The man was well known for being a womanizing cheat. Yet

it never occurred to Dick that he'd be interested in guys too. Bill, Dick Rass, please. Let me go, Dick ass-pleadingly. Well I'll let you go as soon as I have to get my way with you. I'm going to have fun with you, Dick Cheney.

Bill then took off the rope and dropped to the floor. Bill was naked and standing full frontal to Dick Cheney. Are you familiar with cock and ball torture Cheney? Cheney tense at this. You think I'll be your plaything you sick fuck-eyed? How dare

you? Bill smiled and then he grabbed the rope connecting to Cheney's balls to the weight and pulled it swiftly. Cheney almost had a bite down there to avoid screaming from the pain. Better. Bill then circled around Cheney and then gave Cheney's cock a couple of light flicks. Not enough

to hurt, but to spread, but to register discomfort. Now you little man whore, I'm going to ride you like I do with women. Bill then climbed up onto the table and spread Cheney's buttocks apart. Cheney whips and he felt cock. Bill's cock inside

of him penetrating him and touching all the inner wokings of his body. Bill's cock on Cheney's prostate. Everyone starts BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! Causing Cheney arousal to get pain at the same time. You like that huh? Bill said, well picking up his thrusts. Cheney was cursing and just breathed

and roused him for allowing himself to be treated in this way. Bill had not used lubricant so that penetration was painful on Cheney. Cheney thought about throwing Bill off of him, but he was tied at the table and he wouldn't last long in a fight with the former president. He wasn't exactly a young man anymore. Bill

moaned in pleasure and Cheney felt his own cock stiffening. He couldn't help but feel his heart turned inside his chest but whatever he liked and not, he was getting a degree of enjoyment from this. Bill then started to reach down near Dick's groin and rub on it directly. Cheney felt violated in ways that one

could never imagine. And the fact that the very man from his opposing party was doing this to him made him sick to his stomach. There there boy! Bill then reached for a key and leached down to unlock the shackle holding his conquest's feet. Cheney promptly felt himself being turned over.

I want to suck your dick and I'm going to give you a good blowjob like you've never had before. Bill reached down and started sucking on Cheney's cock, taking in his entire length and going up and down. Cheney vowed to himself that he would give Bill a mouthful of semen. Bill made suck

noises with his mouth and he lightly licked the head of Cheney's cock this Sunday in the waves of arousal. Both men were caught in the bliss of having sex and Cheney was almost about to climax. Soon the vice president ejaculated his seed until the former president's mouth. Bill lapped up

every single drop of it and he left some of his saliva on Cheney's cock and then he went up to kiss Cheney and Cheney pulled away but Bill's fingers tangled and some of his hair forcing him to stay in the kiss. Bill was very perverted and Cheney was disgusted that he was forced to do this. He was not gay

but the encounter was enough to get him aroused and the mirror thought of having sex with a man made him spate and fucking come up. Bill wasn't done yet. He then went one of his fingers and slicedly traced down Cheney's back and slipped it into the man, added another finger

as he went, Cheney moaned and his body tensed. You liked it, didn't you? You liked it, didn't you Cheney? Bill asked in a seductive purr, go fuck yourself you dirty pig. Well why should I if you're already here?

He cackles at his own joke. Bill then went over the table and cut his bombs loose Cheney found his clothes scattered all over the room and Bill started to redress. He then sped down to the Blair House who then promptly locked the door and stripped down naked through the close of the fireplace and then rested on his bed.

He was so tired, he drifted off to sleep. Wow, that is who knew that George W. Bush was writing creepypastas or hardcore fantasy political erotica. Wow, alright. Just Cheney.

Oh. This has been a strange creepypast episode I have to say. It's really strange. I'll end on a, this is a classic. Okay, this is a classic right here. A couple came back from a night out to find that their house had been broken into

and nearly everything was stolen. Their television gone, computer gone, silverware, dishes, clothes, jewelry all gone. Just a few pieces of furniture, their toothbrushes, a can opener, some candles and a disposable camera were left behind.

They called the police, filed a report then went on with their lives while they waited in the vain hope that they get some of their stuff back. Weeks later the wife took the disposable camera to the local pharmacy to get the film developed. When she picked the pictures up the next day

she found photos of the burglars facing away from the camera sticking the toothbrushes up their butts. Oh my god. That's an old urban legend. I love that. That's a classic. Wow, well thank you all so much for going on this journey with us.

With these episodes are becoming or like a search into the internet like as it is as it stands. And it's that. There's a lot of stuff in there. I was happy. I actually, Henry, I think you're right.

I think this is our 14th creepypasta. Maybe 13th. I think really if you do listen to all of them from beginning to end you can really see the downfall of the internet. Yeah, you can see it from like at the beginning it's like really creative fun stuff, people doing something cool

and then now it's Dick Cheney Bill Clinton slash Vic. I am kind of interested though to mankind, Mick Foley. Yeah, you think about progress, but in reality there is also a regress. And I think we might be in more of a regression than a progression phase. But sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards.

Yeah, sometimes. Yeah, absolutely. Not in this case. Remember those cars on the little zip mat? Yeah. Yeah, you had to go backwards to go forward. Right now we're winding up and then we're going to go at some point we're going to go loop and loop. Have a little fun. Maybe the next episode is we need

to write our own. Oh my gosh. I am willing to write upwards of one creepypasta. I could maybe write creepypasta. Guess what? They'll be short.

You know what I mean? Alright everyone, well thank you so much for listening. I know this was just kind of a fun episode. A sort of appellate cleanser. The ginger in the sushi with the wasabi. This was a little ginger for you. Exactly.

And I hope you enjoyed it. We have a huge episode coming up next week that you will see that the prep for it will warrant this break in our heavy research. And I think you'll be pleased by the nature of the episode. Absolutely.

I know that I will be learning quite a bit because it's a foreign topic to me. Alright. Alright everyone, well thank you so much for giving to our Patreon. Without you none of this is possible. Make sure, if you do give Henry and I, make sure you check out all the interviews that Henry and I have been doing. They're extremely fun.

Also, I do have some creepypastas on there and Henry has a couple of different character pieces that he's done as well. So thank you so much for listening to those and for giving to our Patreon. Yes indeed. Let's see, what else? Do we have anything else? Do we have any shows? We've got the Comic-Con in San Diego.

Oh yeah, we just announced by the time this episode is out. Tickets might still be on sale. We're doing a show in San Diego during Comic-Con. So if you're going to be going to Comic-Con we're going to be doing a huge show there. Or if you just live in the San Diego area

you can just google those tickets or go to lastpodcastintheleft.com to find all the links for that. Also, we're announcing a ton of new shows for the summer. I think we're going to be announcing three more here. Maybe four more here. Live shows.

Live shows. Alright. We've got a new podcast. Speaking of new shows we've got a new podcast here. Danny and Mike The Adventure. They were Pete and Pete. You know them from the old Nickelodeon show there. They've got a podcast and that's new here to the network. The Adventures of Danny and Mike. There it is. It was an older show. Their show's been around

but now they're with us. Very excited to hear their new episodes. Thanks for supporting all the shows here on the last podcast network. Top half for Politics, page seven. You just peruse around the site and you'll find something new. Alright, anything else Henry? If you're being sure you follow us on Twitter or on Youtube and Marcus Parks have been kissle,

follow us on Instagram at dr. Vin Tacey at Marcus Parks had been kissle the number one and follow last podcast of left on all of the different forms of horseshit that make you upset at LP on the one. Alright everyone. Hail yourselves. Hail Satan. Hail game.

Hail me please. And a magician relations one and all. Hello. As a bonus for this episode we're also going to be including a story that I read for the last podcast the story must be told. Of course, this show can be found at lastpodcastnetwork.com slash shows.

So if you dig this, the production, the reading, the writing, all that type of stuff, be sure to go check this show out. And here it is. Hope you enjoy. The Story of Classical Toll. A reading from the book of Aimless Sons and Thoughtful Boys titled, The Bear Musician.

Bruno hobbled off the ferry on the dry ground. He carried a small box with his only possessions, a pencil, naturalization documents, a pair of socks, and a faded picture of his mother. He limped away from the boat, set his box on the wet ground and sat. And the gutters rotting food waste, horseship, piss, and dead vermin floated in standing water.

The overwhelming stench put a pause on his hunger and silenced the rattling between his meatless ribs. Bruno's mouth went dry and his tongue swelled, heaving him forward to vomit. He wretched without purchase. It was morning and the city was spinning. A traffic cop failed to direct traffic. Carriages charged by with abandon.

One took a corner too fast, tilting on two wheels, hopped up a curve, and ran over the back legs of a dog. The dog crawled into a gutter and out of view. Outside a pub, two men with cartoonishly large hands swung at each other, delivering blow after blow, and neither fell down. Prostitutes, woozy from drink, swayed on corners, looking for an early morning John.

Kalera ravaged the ship two months into the journey, most died. Bruno and his mother arrived to Ellis Island, hungry and dehydrated, along with one fourth of the ship's manifest. One night, while in quarantine, he laid in bed next to her as she coughed through the night. When he awoke, there was a mist of blood on her pillow,

and her eyes were open with a milky film over her once bright green eyes. She had seen death, and he had taken her. Three months later, the nearly 14-year-old Bruno sat at the tip of America's most infamous island and shook with fear. A group of women in marooned dresses approached Bruno with a slice of bread and a paper pamphlet

covered in words he didn't understand, although he did recognize the Christian cross on the first page. As one of the women spoke to him in a strange language, he unfolded the pamphlet and used it as a napkin while he ate the bread. Furious at his sacrilege, the woman pulled the pamphlet and the bread from his hands,

and delivered a cracking slap across his cheekbone. His ears rang, and his eyes swelled as she stormed away. Bruno held his face and clenched his teeth as he waited for his eyes to stop watering. When his vision cleared, a man stood before him. The man whistled confidently with his hands in the pockets of a fashionable khaki suit,

topped with a matching hat decorated with a duck feather. The man smiled at Bruno with only his upper lip. At last, Bruno. The stranger leaned forward and patted Bruno on the head. Bruno leaned back suspiciously. He spoke Bruno's language in an accent he couldn't recognize. His posture was unsettling, and his familiarity even more so. Oh, you don't have to worry.

Your mother made all the arrangements before she. The man paused dramatically and looked at his dazzling, polished shoes. Past from this world. After spending half a year with some truly low men, Bruno had learned how to spot a confidence man from a mile away. He was one of them.

You can trust me, Bruno. He smiled, flashing innumerable large teeth. Then tell me my mother's name. Bruno commanded in a voice comically serious for such a young man. Juna Schultz! The stranger responded happily, followed by a forced frown, and... My God, rest her soul.

Bruno's suspicion waned, and the stranger leaned forward. I know an excellent restaurant a few blocks from here. Come, young Bruno. It's all been arranged. Slowly Bruno rose to his feet. The stranger held a hand to help steady him, but Bruno refused. He picked up his box, saddled it under his arm, and stood facing the stranger.

Tell me your name, Bruno commanded. You'll simply love this restaurant, young Bruno. It's like nothing you've seen before. I hope you brought your appetite. Then laughed. He sat out ahead of Bruno and zigzagged down the sidewalk, nearly out of sight. Bruno hobbled after him, slow to keep up, struggling under the weight of his box. His only possession.

Bruno had indeed never seen such a spread of food before. He ate until he felt the food packing up to the top of his throat, and then ate more. All the while, the stranger picked on a single beef rib, eating slowly and methodically. Few words were spoken between them, and any question Bruno asked was ignored or dodged by the man. Outside the restaurant, Bruno was sluggish and exhausted from the feast. Thank you, Bruno croaked. The stranger turned to Bruno, his face set in an unnerving grin. His cheekbones were high, smiling without his eyes.

Of course, young Bruno, I have more to show you still. Again, the stranger leapt away from Bruno who struggled to keep up. They weaved around hurrying businessmen. Bruno couldn't help but bump into them, for his eyes were fixed on the towering buildings above. They were a few blocks away from the restaurant when Bruno stopped dead. My box! Bruno yelled. He turned around a head back, and the stranger didn't follow. Come, I need it!

He shouted. The stranger didn't move. He shouted again, to no response. Curse you! Bruno yelled at the stranger. At this, the stranger laughed like a madman. Bruno huffed and went the other way down the street. But this street was not the street he had been on just moments ago. The buildings were smaller, two stories tall at the most. No one walked the sidewalks, and the streets were much narrower. You could hear the clopping of a horse in the distance, but could not see it.

Scared, Bruno turned back to see the stranger. Then into the street it also changed. What moments before looked like the throbbing heart of a cosmopolis was now sparse. In the distance, the cobblestone road turned into dirt, wandering off into a country road on the horizon. The sun began retreating under the shingled roofs of the lonely storefronts. And a single candle burned in the windows on the streets, say for a single house.

Bruno approached it. Above the door was wood lettering that spelled restaurant and Bruno's language. Desperate for help, he opened the massive door. It painfully screeched on its hinges. The hallway was completely dark. It smelled like writing newspaper. Hello? Bruno shouted into the darkness. His voice was muffled as if he were surrounded on all sides by heavy curtains.

Thrown into panic, he turned around a field for the door and found nothing. He moved forward with his hands out and his heart racing. Staggering in the dark, Bruno made a step, but his foot found no floor. He hurled forward and fell down an invisible staircase. His elbow cracked on a stair and he screamed, only to be cut short by falling to a stop face first on cold ground. The pain danced over him while he collected himself. When he opened his eyes, he saw a dim light coming from a crack between curtains.

He limped through them and entered a dimly lit red room with velvet walls and empty tables with candles burning. And one of the tables set his box. Bruno wobbled to the table to collect it. He sat and rested his head on the polished oak while he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the stranger. Bruno gasped. The stranger stared through him with jet black eyes and smiled. His mouth was filled with millions of sharp teeth,

row after row disappearing to the back of his mouth. The dance! The stranger hissed. At that, the lights went out. Through the curtains ambled out a big brown bear and a vest wearing a fez. The trained bear sat on a stool and spun the arm of a sound box. It squeaked with a rusty wine, made a chilling plucking noise, like a broken piano. The curtains behind the bear waved and out came a woman in a burlesque dress. She swayed from side to side, her face white like a doll's and eyes vacant.

Bruno froze with boiling fear. It was his mother. The stranger clapped and danced, hooting and spinning to the deathly tune the bear played. Bruno tried to scream, but could not. His mother approached his table and pulled herself up, dancing and kicking. Bruno grabbed onto the bottom of her dress and screamed. Mama! Mama! He shouted. She didn't look down, nor did she stop dancing.

Mama! Mama, listen to me! He shouted, pleading with the automaton. She danced and danced as the stranger spun in circles around Bruno. Bruno's box began to smolder on the table, quickly igniting flames. It burned with tongues of fire, shooting to the ceiling, but did not consume the table nor the room. Dance! Dance! Dance! The stranger commanded. Bruno didn't move. Dance, his mother croaked, staring at nothing. Bruno wept.

The stranger grabbed Bruno by the armpits and set him on the table. He wrapped Bruno's arms around his mother's waist. Her dress was freezing and soaking wet. He tried to pull his hands free, but they were stuck to a noxious slime that coated her. Dance! The stranger screamed. He spun in circles, clapping as the bear played the sound box hypnotically. Bruno wept insanely, holding onto his mother.

She spun and kicked and danced as he slid to her feet. The stranger spun in circles like a demented ballerina. Bruno's mother kicked and held up her skirt. He collapsed on the table, screaming and begging for it to end. Bruno felt fingers have taken to his collarbone. He yelped and snapped his head back. There was the stranger, sneering at him with implacable menace. Dance!

He commanded. His infinite rows of teeth glistening in his mouth. Dance! Dance! Dance! Bruno raised his feet and swayed with his mother while the stranger cackled. His hands began to freeze on his mother's hips, and he could not let go. They turned purple with cold, and his fingernails mutated black. The stranger clapped wildly, knocking over chairs and screaming like a madman as Bruno danced. The dance would last forever. The story must end.