The F Plus - 309: !sleep

Episode Date: August 27, 2019

r/nosleep describes itself as "a subreddit for realistic horror stories." Well, realism is a hard thing to define, and while the stories that live here are mostly poorly spelled rambling essays that strain credulity, they also cause Boots Raingear's internet to drop out for a while! 😱 This week, The F Plus is waterboarding clowns correctly, for once.

No sleep! Here's my silence. Welcome. Stop it. No sleep. Oh, it's contagious. No sleep. No sleep. Oh, it's contagious. No sleep. No sleep. Okay. Welcome to the F Plus Podcast.

Terrible things up all night. In the room tonight, we've got Isfahan. As it turns out, a lot of people are hesitant to call someone to kill their ex, even if it's for the good of their kids. Nutshell Gulag. I wasn't startled this time, stupid dog, I'd think Achilles Heelys A broken, distorted voice shouted, Hey, jerk monkey!

A glitched bard started walking toward Millhouse Zarla Mr. Karchenko spilled blood from his slit palm onto Carlos' head He screams, Before plunging the knife into Carlos' head, blood erupts, formed this skull. Maria couldn't take it anymore. She screamed. And Boots Reingear.

My mom summoned a demon to possess me when I was a kid. And I just met an angel. No! Sleep! No! Sleep! No! Sleep! Hey, F-Plus. Hello.

Hi, Boots. How are you guys sleeping these days? I'm beset by spirits at all times of night. Probably more than I should be. So, like, you're getting good sleep? There's nothing keeping you awake at night? Nah. No, not really.

Is there anything that concerns you in the world? Just a couple things. There might be a couple things wrong with the world in this Lord's year of 2019. But what I'm getting at is that if you are finding that your sleep is too good, there's a subreddit to help fix your problem.

Oh, good. It's called r slash no sleep. It is... And we've been provided a document by Mix and Beelzeboob. Am I getting that right? Mix, Mix. Yay, Mix and Beelzeboob. Yeah, Mix and Beelzeboob. And they say, r slash nosleep is a subreddit where people post their own horror stories

with the catch that all posts and comments have to be formatted like serious, real Reddit posts. Nobody does this. Well, good. These are the stories of Reddit. Yeah, so what we're getting here are amateur horror stories

as opposed to professional horror stories on the internet. Thank goodness I'm going to get rid of all that pesky sleep. I've always been anti-sleep. But before we get into the stories themselves, Isfahan, give us a little bit of information from the subreddit itself,

just in the doc under part one. Read us the sidebar information. Okay. NoSleep is a place for authors to share their original horror stories. And then there's a link for a more detailed explanation. Suspension of

disbelief is key here. Everything is true here even if it's not. Don't be the jerk in the movie theater hee-hawing because monkeys don't fly. You're in a suspender of disbelief or else. Did that happen a lot during... Well, it happened with Michael Berry.

Monkeys can't fly! Michael Berry would stand up and say, animals can't talk! Still confused? I know I am. Check out the rules and guidelines, or ask your questions in slash r slash nosleepooc. So,

ooc stands for out of character, so the idea is you're supposed to play along in the subreddit, and as Boots has already pointed, or as I should say, Mix and Beelzebub have already pointed out, nobody does this. Good. So you ask them to play along and they're like, no.

Anyway. So what is No Sleep? No Sleep is a community for original horror stories. Stories may be true or not, in parentheses, but they are almost never true. Almost. may be true or not, in parentheses, but they are almost never true. Almost. While our stories are fiction,

we treat all stories like true, real-life experiences, because the best scares come when you are immersed in the story. If it helps, don't think of it as reading a story. Think of it as witnessing an event. And they really like this movie theater analogy. Don't be the jerk in the movie theater. Think of this subreddit like a movie theater.

Nobody goes to see a movie and then stands up to yell at the screen when a small detail isn't realistic. Oh! You invented the movie with me! Oh, man! Not since I got banned from the theater, yeah. And keep in mind, they're telling Redditors this. No one interrupts the showing of The Wizard of Oz, Outrage, because monkeys can't fly. The stories are here to entertain you. Picking them apart, debunking them,

and just generally being a bad sport ruin the fun for everyone. That's why there isn't like 20 podcasts that do that exact thing. Yeah. This is why we have this rule. To keep the comment sections of the stories from becoming buzzkill threads.

Just enjoy the stories for what they are. Stories. Further information on No Sleep and its Purpose can be found in this post, which is a link. And there's one frequently asked question, which I'm going to ask you. Okay. I'm still so confused! Is everything here actually

true? Thank you, infomercial audience plant. No, it's all fiction and everyone is pretending. Great. So throw away that fourth wall. You won't be needing it. All right. So now it's time to move into the actual stories.

Nutshell. Yes. You're going to, your name is Cuddle Cuddle. Oh boy. And you're going to read a story. Well, just tell me what the story is called. It's called Motherfucking Bananas Are Driving Me Crazy! Alright.

Okay. Fucking hell! Okay, so things have gone from interesting to confusing to terrifying. So I'll just post it here and see if you guys have a clue. Disclaimer, I'm a scientist by training. So this is going to be super detailed. Somebody might just catch something in my narrations.

Looking at you, botanist. Finger guns. I'm a 2X year old living alone in a foreign country doing my PhD. Well, you see, if they told you their whole whatever 20s age they are, you could talk with them. I was like, whatever age you think I am, I'm double that. It's like they were two years old, and I was like, this is an Ace Attorney character.

It's like the year 20XX. Yes. My apartment is small in a shitty part of town, but I have my own kitchen, bathroom, and shower, so I'm content. Fruits and veggies in the city are outrageously expensive so I eat lots of bananas.

Bananas are cheap everywhere. They're high in fiber, good to eat raw and make milkshakes. Life is good. Bananas are good. So things started going weird beginning of the year-ish. My bananas are over-ripening overnight. I mean,

I don't mind. In fact, that is weird. That's so weird. I like my bananas on the ripe side, but the thing is, no matter when I bought them, what the condition it was when I bought them, they always went super ripe overnight. Ah!

So spooky. At first I thought I was just seeing things because I was too stressed. Trust me, PhD does that to you. But my scientific curiosity got better hold of the better of me and I started doing this as an experiment. Wow, I said that almost

without stumbling over it. Time to find a good PhD dealer. Firstly, I removed all our vegetables from the fruit basket. You put vegetables in your fruit basket, you monster. Methane gas, yada yada, and placed some green bananas on the center of the table. Secondly, I drew up a chart and stuck it on the fridge, just to keep track of the status of the banana per night. First night, banana's green.

Second night, banana's still green. On the edge of my seat here. Third morning, I woke up and lo and behold, the entire bunch has turned golden yellow. Good! I'm seeing results! Wait, this is just bananas. This is just how bananas work.

That's no normal banana! I've gotta find a subreddit that'll listen to my banana story, but how? I think the clue was there. She said the yada y subreddit that'll listen to my banana story, but how? I think the clue was there. She said the yada yada. This is just a Seinfeld episode. What's the deal with bananas? Jerry, my bananas are ripening overnight.

Oh, yeah, bananas. Was that Kramer? I don't know. It was someone. It could have been any of them, really. Over the next two months or so, that's a long time to keep one bunch of bananas, I continued to perform the same experiment and some patterns started to emerge.

The transformation never happens on the night I buy the bananas, but almost always on the second or third night. The initial status of the banana doesn't matter, e.g. bananas under the sink, bananas in the safe. E.g. Bananas under the sink, bananas in the safe. In the safe. Bananas in the safe, that's what it says. Bananas slightly green, super green, almost ripe, super green,

organic, cheap with sticker, without sticker, you get my drift. Does not work for plantainies? It might be plantains. I know they eat plantains. It's just not worth for plantagenets. Plantanays.

You would think a person studying PhD in botany would know what a plantain is, or at least how to spell it. Or how to reference things. Hey, don't be the asshole in the theater, Isfahan. I didn't agree to the subreddit's terms. We're not reading this on the subreddit. We're in the Google Docs. I can do what I want.

Is she gonna feed these bananas to flying monkeys? The long arm of no sleep. To be honest, I was pretty psyched this was turning out better than my actual experiment for my paper slash thesis and was far more interesting. Jeez. What are you doing for your thesis that ripening bananas is more interesting?

I was happy and looked forward to- That's a literal study on watching grass grow. And looked forward to the banana-ep time every day. Banana time. Plus, my office and lab always had bananas to share, so that's nice too. Then the fuck up. Last week, I set up some cameras on my dining room

table just to record this. That was the logical next step as far as experiments go. Yeah, yeah, it was. Okay, for the first few transformations, there's almost nothing. Then it happens. Bananas green in one frame, yellow in the next. Okay, for the first few transformations, there's almost nothing. Then it happens. Banana's green in one frame, yellow in the next. This is freaking me out a bit.

I'm not a botanist. Wait, what are you then? What? She was making a call out to botanists. Oh, okay. But I knew it's not natural. I'm assuming she is. I've tried to record with my camera and my laptop.

Same thing happens. Bam, green to yellow, one frame. I'm assuming she is. I've tried to record with my camera and my laptop. Same thing happens. Bam! Green to yellow, one frame. Doesn't make sense. Last night, I borrowed my lab camera and set that up. It had a higher frame rate. And then this morning, I finally seen it. For three frames, a shadow passed over the bananas.

Solid black motherfucking shadow passing over my bananas! Whatever it was that caused the bananas to turn color. This is creeping me out! What's going on? What the fuck is living with me? A little banana cryptid, obviously. The end. This is Bunk Monster from Lost. You can't debunk this story, so you have to only suggest

actual things that could be changing the bananas. The Banan gaster. All right. Everybody have a suggestion for this? Good. Yeah. I can already see why people are refusing to play along in the comments. The banana devil.

This is like really, really bad improv hooks. Yeah, I can feel it. It's going to change color extremely rapidly. Hey, Helius, your name for the next moment is going to be Jack the Unfortunate. Why am I called that? We'll find out. And you've received 11 upvotes for this. Yeah.

This story is my sweet, sweet Rachel. We'll find out. And you've received 11 upvotes for this. Yeah. This story is My Sweet, Sweet Rachel. I am Jack, and I'll warn you, I'm not a good writer, but I need someone to listen to me, anyone. So I am 22. This started the week after my birthday. My life was going great up to this point.

I had the girl of my dreams, the job of my dreams. My girlfriend, Rachel, invited me to dinner as we would go to weekly. My memory is perfect of this. We had gone for steaks at our favorite restaurant. The lady in this restaurant was perfect and so romantic. So we get to ordering the appetizer. We picked our usual, then got through to the final course

and paid. On our way out, my friend Ian, in fact, my best friend Ian, we stopped to talk to Ian for a moment. He said... Okay, so Ian was there. Love Ian. Yeah, my best friend Ian.

Hey guys, what are you doing here? you guys are too good for this place you should be going to reno's now considering you got that raise a while back he laughed as did rachel and me well this this place is a favorite of ours says says somebody, and has the best food around. It's cheaper than anywhere else. We are saving up for a wedding, you know, I said with a smile and a small chuckle. Oh, sorry, Jack. I forgot my phone at the table. I'll be right back, Rachel said with a frown.

Okay, honey, I'll get the car ready. Sorry, Ian, but I've got to try and be a good partner. See you next Friday. I said as he waved bye while Rachel went to get her phone. I got the car pulled up to the restaurant just as she walked out the door. She had tears in her eyes. The way she looked hurt me deeply. I got very upset by this and motioned her to hurry up and get in.

Get in here and tell me what's got you so upset right now! This is no time for crying. Rachel, what's wrong? I said on the verge of a breakdown while a tear or two slid down my face. Jesus. I mean, it's good to be sensitive but come on, face. Jesus. Seeing her like... I mean, it's good to be

sensitive, but come on, guy. Yeah. Seeing her like that, I've never... Whoa, a comma. I've never seen her like that before. She's the emotional strong one in the relationship. She looked at me and said, it's nothing.

Just Ian said something. It doesn't make sense. He said, it's nothing. Just Ian said something. It doesn't make sense. He said, That you got a raise? Like, go to Reno's? Oh, wait, what? Yeah, I don't know.

He said, you look so nice today, sweet, sweet Rachel. You better look this good when I have you all to myself. It will be sooner than you think, as he blew her. Wait, when did he say that? I don't know. He did it.

So your friend is creep. As he blew her. Where was he? I'm confused. He did this. I think he was supposed to be in the restaurant, like when she went back to get her phone. I guess, but I thought he was outside the restaurant because he waved bye to him

Is the creepy thing that he heard one Is he heard one thing and she heard a different thing? Teleportaled I don't know As he blew her a kiss I processed this rather slowly and started the long drive home We lived particularly close to the restaurant

but I say it was long because of the silence and discomfort. We had a rather long talk that night. It didn't involve yelling, which isn't good. I'll tell you more next time. What? What were you yelling about? Why were you yelling? That's not a next time detail. It's not important.

It's not important. I have to talk to more police, her parents, and get everything in order. What are you- Did somebody die? What? All of this is in response to Ian saying- Now that's how you craft a sequel hook.

I think this is a story written by a head wound Harry. I guess it's a sequel hook if the resolution to the conflict of the story is in the sequel. if the resolution to the conflict of the story is in the sequel. Look, this is the first part of many and I could use some support and some suggestions. But it's supposed to be true. I was very upset to not find her laying with me the next morning.

I will try to get the next post in before the end of the week. Ham-handed writing. Okay, well... Oh, you want some ham-handed writing there. He did warn us he's not a good writer. He did. In a spooky nutshell.

Yes? Your name's Short Story One. Okay, let's see. And you're going to tell us a story called Unorthodox Advertisement. Unorthodox Advertisement. Did you link it? Where is it? I didn't link it.

Here it is. I found it. It's got no upvotes. No upvotes. Unorthodox Advertisement. We all need to advertise our business right. I mean, there is so much competition out there and it is getting harder to spread the message you want.

There are so many ways to advertise our business and it could be through social media on the internet, through TV ads and billboard posters. Although I am the type of person who tries to find other means of advertising as I like to try and be different. I've just opened up a car garage where I will be fixing cars,

but in my area, there are quite a few other car garages that do the exact same thing I do. I needed to outshine them, and I needed an unorthodox way of advertising my business out into the world, which will get so many people's attention.

Then one day, an idea hit me, and I needed the use of a homeless man to help me with it. Oh, no. This is the start of all capitalist successes, I believe. and this will be in the background. I paid the homeless man and I told him to read out something to the camera, which was him basically telling people to come to my garage. Then I shot him in the head, but the camera didn't show me at all doing it. Blood went all over the poster. God damn it, now I need another take. I posted this video onto YouTube and it went viral straight away.

And even my Facebook business page became busy, as well as my business Twitter and Instagram page as well. My planet worked, and people were talking about my business. I got the visit from the police, and they brought me in for questioning, and I actually convinced them that I had nothing to do with it. Even though you murdered a man on camera and that video went viral and for some reason none of your channels were taking it at all. Yeah, he's just talking about his business. I have

many YouTube accounts and the YouTube account where I posted my video for my business doesn't have my name on it or use the same email address or anything that will connect me to the crime. I convinced the police I had nothing to do with it even though everything was pointing at me. I told them that I

desperately told many people how desperate I was to find a new way of advertising. My friends and family were also questioned and they couldn't find the camera or anything else related to the crime committed against the homeless man. So the detectives, you know, they gather in their office,

and they're all smoking, and they've got their shoulder holsters and everything. It's like, well, he's definitely a suspect. He might have committed murder, but he did say he was desperate, and that just doesn't fit the description of murder. And there's like a nerd in the back who's like, why don't we check with Google and see what the IP address is of what they uploaded? And they're just like, shut up, nerds! Boss, he said he didn't do it.

Goddamn eggheads. The trail is cold. The most convincing thing I said to the police was this. I mean, officers, don't get me wrong, what happened to the homeless was terrible, but at the same time my business is actually doing good. Whoever did this, his or her

intention might have been good and bad. Because I am financially benefiting from this. And they let me go because I could tell they felt my honesty. What? All of the newspapers were writing about this. And all I could think to myself was this was all great advertising. I wanted to do it again. And I found a drugged up junkie who was way out of...

Jesus Christ. So, is the scary thing just how mundane... I don't... Fuck, I don't know, never mind. It's scary how incompetent the police are in this story. I mean, I'm desperate, and I'm the only person who's benefiting from this heinous crime, so clearly I didn't do it. 9-1- 911 is a joke.

I made a poster of my business and hung it up against the wall, and I made sure there was no CCTV cameras operating near me when I wanted to do this. I told the junkie to point on the poster, and he was doing that. I shot him in the head, and I uploaded the video onto YouTube.

People were actually turning up to my garage to have their car fixed. Yeah, that's what I'd do if I saw that video. To have their car fixed because people love a strange and mysterious aura about something. Not when it comes to getting their car fixed.

I think that might be against YouTube's terms of service, too. I'm not sure. Upload actual murders? Yeah. The police had this mentality that whoever was doing this was trying to frame me, and life is good. I wasn't going to do any more

because my father once told me, learn when to stop, son! Jesus Christ! There was no evidence which the police could find or any DNA on the deceased as I carefully wore gloves and a mask and I was careful and I planned it all out quite well. Then one day I woke to find two posters advertising

help the homeless and rehab for drug addicts and I had no idea how they got there. I would find these posters... In your bedroom? Yeah, I guess. Oh. I would find these posters all around my house, even though I had burned them and threw them away.

One day I woke to find those two posters back in my room, with two other strangers who had watched me sleeping all night. I buried the lead there, dude. One spoke, imagine a man coming back from the dead to rip your throat out, with help the homeless poster in the background.

Wouldn't that be great advertising for the homeless one spoke and the other spoke don't forget about advertising for rehabs as well you sir with your new found fame would make a great advertisement for these two special establishments we will be back

and they disappeared but right before they disappeared a light shined on their faces and it was the homeless man and the donkey! I am not scared, actually, just kind of jealous, because their advertisement would be much better than mine. That's the end of the story, but it really feels like your business is secondary to you just shooting people in the head

and making cool advertisements that go viral. Really, you should have opened an advertising firm. I have a lot of questions about that story, and I don't know where to ask them, because they're not allowed. So the spookiest thing that's happened this episode so far is that they got boots, and boots is gone now. Oh, no!

Oh! Right, so... The next part is called Assassins Are Really Cool. Oh, that's true. I think that's been borne out so far. Zarla, you need to read something.

Okay. So the very first story in this section, you're a hunter of legends, you have zero upvotes for this story, so it's probably pretty good. I am an assassin. File one, the courier. I have been lurking in this sub for quite a while now. I have read a lot of your stories.

The ones that captivates me the most are the skinwalker encounters. Let me tell you they are real, but that's not why I'm here. Sorry, that's not why I'm here. I'm here for a really different reason. I am not a hitman. I was with the spec ops. You know, the ones who move behind the scenes. Before I was recruited to a new outfit.

It is without a name. We were trained to shoot first and not to ask questions. We were paid to do the dirt work and not given any credit. It's okay. We need the secrecy. Let me begin my story. I had a contract about two months ago that we were to support the transfer of a cargo

from point A to point B. I'm not telling where, because I don't know where exactly. The letter I received just states that we need your assistance in delivering a special cargo. You are to assist the convoy on the delivery. We need someone of your expertise. You will be rewarded generously, Snake.

Whatever you see or hear, be sure nothing gets out to the public. There are dire consequences. If the cargo hold is breached, you are to eliminate the content before it escapes. It's before IT escapes. They went home for the day.

Can't get your email. I thought it was the clown that lives underneath dairy. Godspeed, soldier. Well, here I am writing about. I need to you know. I don't know what the military is up to, but you need to know that was mups of the letter. I can't

let a photo of it out, for it is above the pay grade. Well, here we are. There are guys who picked me up with the humvee. The humvee. The H-U-M-V-Y. Humvee. The humvee.

I brought along two of my trusted guys, just in case. We rode along to the middle of nowhere, and thus met with the convoy. I thought it would be a small group of personnels. Like, personnels. There were two Humvees, including ours, and a truck of soldiers, and two Black Hawks circling a container

from which I can see the plates, and the container is very thick, and was chained to the truck itself. It had soldiers standing beside the container. I don't know what it was, but axe courting to the letter. Surely it was alive, and it's supposed to not see the light of day. We were traveling across the desert with... Mmm.

Mmm, tasty. With the Humvees armed with Gatlings. Not your normal 50 cows mounted. The Balkak was ahead of us. The wired thing is why do they have to point the gun at the truck all the time of the travel? And we had heavily armed men also. You me, you must sniper guide.

I got this awesome Barret 50 cal with different type of rounds. I'm assuming that was all correct, Isfahan. Oh yeah, 100%. They use a lot of Gatling guns still, Isfahan? He didn't spell Barret correctly, Isfahan. Oh, yeah, 100%. They use a lot of Gatling guns still, Isfahan? He didn't spell Barrett correctly, but, you know. But he am a sniper guy, so.

Isn't a Gatling gun a gun with a crank, too? Yes. Okay, yeah, all right. So he was armed with a 19th century. Big old sausage cranker gun. Yeah. Good, all right. That is scary.

I was nervous. I don't know why, but it seems wrong from the moment I saw the cargo as if something is going down and we don't know about it and supposedly I have to kill the cargo if it breached containment. WTF. We arrived at the destination.

Don't know what maybe it was Area 51 if that really did exist. The convoy came to a halt, but the container was still shaking. I don't know what's inside, but I'm betting all of my money that it doesn't want to be contained any longer. Then suddenly came this ungodly roar

of some sort. Now I thought to myself, what is this, some kind of dinosaur or something? Or maybe the heat was getting to me. But I know it was dangerous. Who else needs a convoy like this advanced weapons to deliver something like this? Even the president won't get this much going on. He asked the others, what was our cargo?

Nobody seemed to know. All of us were hired mercenaries. I realized that if something bad happens, the military doesn't want to deal with it themselves, so they hired people like us. Some Blair Witch Project is going on, and you people need to know about it. I thanked the maker.

That whatever inside didn't get out until we reached point B. If it was out, I knew we won't be able to put it down so easily. And yes, we were paid handsomely. More than enough to keep me stilled. No, keep me stilled for a lifetime, you might say. The F was going on.

Except for Reddit forums. Some crazy monstrosity experiment. Maybe I can't say more. The end. Somebody's been playing some SCP. Somebody just put a tape recorder in the truck just messing with people.

Yeah. So you can freak them out, guys. It'll be fine. I like this. There's a comment on this that just says is there a connection to skin crawler in any way OP

oh yeah you just throw that out with a skin walker encounter okay couldn't follow this I've got kind of a grievance here and I think it's kind of really been overlooked.

Nobody talks about what it's really like to be a contract killer. My name is Vexad. So I'm going to give you the skinny on this. Oh, boy. That'll be scary, right? It's kind of goody. It's true. Think about it.

What do you see in Hollywood? Some Russian mafia assassin who knows flawless martial arts and every shot he fires hits? That can't be entertaining at all. What are you talking about? Some old ex-military veteran who can snipe someone from a building halfway across the city? Yeah, no.

None of that is fact. No, Metal Gear Solid is real. It's real. As a matter of fact, no, I'm not going to do that. And most of my colleagues I've met so far have been under the age of 25. You know who the best assassins are? People who haven't had many years of training.

Oh, yeah. With the exception of a couple of gentlemen who are getting a bit too old for their job. They're like 30. Oh, my God. Little wallet chains. Gentlemen. They're like 30. Oh, my God. Isn't that a picture of the best little wallet chains? Yeah. I, as a matter of fact, got my start when I was 17.

I was on a forum pretty deep into some Tor browsing when I came across an ad in my city. Janet Welsh, age 47, SB $2,500 BTC. I stared at the post for a long time, wondering what it was referring to doing to her, before I saw a name pop up in a comment on the post, some cheesy name like Razor or something like that, and the way Razor is spelled is like the gaming peripheral company. Anyway, with the comment body simply putting SB, I figured I'd run across some type of sex traffic ring, but was quickly confused by the next comment. These people weren't bidding more and more.

They were bidding less and less. The next bid placed by a gentleman I would come to know quite well by the name of Oz posted $2,000. The OP responded with, going once, then a minute later, going twice. I just want to say, like, comment sections is a terrible way to do, like, live bidding. What? Then a minute later, going twice. I didn't know what this was, but being a little... Being a curious little shit, I decided to throw in my comment. Yeah, that's a good idea.

People are bidding on something you don't know, and you're going to... Yeah, what could go wrong? $1,200. I barely had to wait a minute before op responded with sold twelve hundred dollars the user oz responding with fucking low ballers lol a smaller sub chat window think customer service box on websites popped open in the corner of my screen the words congratulations in big red letters on the screen. You're our hundredth killer. Hooray!

This is how you get contracts on people. You just assume nobody's a cop and say, yeah, I'll pay you to kill this person. Okay, so there's an asterisk, OP 7316 dispatch. Congratulations, Jeannie. Your target will be located at, redacted for obvious reasons.

You'll be expected to complete by Thursday, March 27th. Happy hunting. P.S. As you are a first-time user, we request that you include a link to your BTC Bitcoin wallet so that you may receive proper payment upon completion. Also, are you a cop? You have to tell us if you're a cop.

I like that you redacted the location, but you put the name down for the person you're a cop. I like that you redacted the location, but you put the name down for the person you're going to murder. And the age. Yeah, right. My stomach sank as I read the message. Killing somebody. Actually, you were never explicitly told that's what you would be expected to do.

Sorry, I'm not playing along. Stop yelling at the monkeys, it's so hard. Get out of the movie theater. I apologize. I'm Michael Berry-erring. I just signed up for fucking killing somebody without even knowing it. What's the solution?

Close my browser and do something else, but no. Yeah, what are they going to do to you? Yeah, this is all anonymous, right? Yeah. But anyway, sure, I was a young dumb kid who maybe let his curiosity get the better of him, but I didn't want the consequences of killing someone. If only there was a solution. I did not sleep easy that

night, as I'm sure you can imagine people here on no sleep. Now guys, I need you to understand that at the time I lived in severe poverty I'm talking like dinner was a couple slices of bread Most of the time poverty It was just me and my mom Since my dad had left us to marry some doctor

He cheated on my mom with and she barely scraped by On slightly more than minimum wage $1200 is a lot of bread More than we could eat before it would all go bad. I won't drag you through my entire reasoning process. I will tell you that one day at dinner, I piped up,

So mom, I found a new job after school. It pays really well. I might be able to feed us. I'll never forget the way she looked at me. It was a unique look, and I'm not sure the greatest actor in the world could even replicate it. It was like a shimmer of hope, immediately followed by a reminder of the life we lived and the fact that nine times out of ten when a son

said this to the mother in my town, it meant I'm going to start slinging. Don't worry, Mom, it's way worse than that. I don't want my boy shelling no crack rocks, she said, looking down at the stale bread

on her plate. I reached out and grabbed her hand with mine. It's nothing like that, Mama, I promise. Well, it's something kind of like that. It's worse. It's worse. She didn't say anything else, and I knew that her silence meant I'd either convinced her she was too tired to fight an energetic teenager on the issue. I hated Janet Welsh as soon as I arrived at her house on my bicycle, the spray-painted black and my clothing, allowing me to hide decently enough in an alley across from her home. It wasn't much, really, but she seemed ridiculously wealthy from my point of view. All sorts of potted plants that are actually made in Porsche.

Putting on airs with their potted plants. She thinks she's hot shit. With her potted plants on her fractionated porch. Putting on airs with her potted plants. She thinks she's hot shit. With her potted plants. She didn't eat the plants, jeez. Heather's neighborhood was nice enough that her door was already unlocked, even. My windows had bars on them, and it made me my hate for Janet grow as my

black Walmart combat boots creaked and squeaked against her floor. So wait, I thought he was across in the alley. Anyway. Those boots could have been a lot of bread. I stayed frozen there a long time before I realized nothing else had moved in the house, and I hadn't yet been detected. The music hadn't changed, so I was okay.

I decided to take my boots off and set them by the front door before creeping up the stairs slowly. A small.45 caliber pistol weighing heavily... Okay, where'd he get the gun? Weighing heavily in my hands as I realized what I was about to do. That's a lot of bread, dammit! It's a Walmart gun. Okay. I reached the one door in the upstairs that had

any sound coming from it and, upon pressing my ear against it, I could tell that it was just ambient noise from a television. I slid the knit balaclava over my face, pushing the door open with an all-too-loud creak. There she was. Janet Welsh, the empty champagne bottles on her nightstand, telling me she was one of those people who complained about

all of her life's obviously self-inflicted problems. It only made me hate her more as I crept across her carpet, pacing my breathing and counting my steps. One breathe. two breathe, three. A sharp yowl pierced the all-too-silent ambience formed by the droning voice on the television. Janet's eyes flew open instantly.

What yowl? This woman had, I don't know. Maybe step on the cat. The TV was on. The woman had serious fucking balls, because the next thing I knew where most people would have tried to run, she was lunging at me, swinging wildly and making as much noise as she could. I dodged her first swing, but the second caught me good, sending me sprawling to the ground as she jumped on top of me, clawing at my face and kneeing me in the groin. Man, this is a scary story.

I did the only thing I could think to do. Bang! I could tell by the look of surprise on her face and the sudden lack of movement that she couldn't tell I'd had the all-black weapon. Bang, bang! I could tell by the look of surprise on her face and the sudden lack of movement that she couldn't tell I'd had the all-black weapon. Bang bang! I pressed the gun into her stomach as I fired, hating her the whole time for beating me, having a better life than me, being able to drink champagne and likely eat a real fucking dinner. I came back to reality quickly, unlike the pace at which Janet Welsh was dying, her ragged gas suddenly making me stick to my stomach. I stumbled down the stairs, my leather-gloved hands leaving bloodstains all along her walls and handrail. As I collapsed out of the front door, covering my mouth to stop the quickly emerging bile,

as I sprinted to my bike, ditching my sweater and balaclava. That's a... wow, that was a bad move. In shoving the shower cap I'd worn... did I mention the shower cap? no? okay I'd worn under it into my back pocket before pedaling home quicker than Mr. Armstrong himself he didn't put his boots back on no he didn't he left half his wardrobe at the scene of the crime

I didn't move much for two days I didn't move at all really I went to the kitchen, ate my bread, shit, pissed and went back to bed for two whole. I didn't move at all, really. I went to the kitchen, ate my bread, shit, pissed, and went back to bed. For two whole days, that was my routine, until I finally decided to touch my computer again. That block box appeared on my screen the minute I loaded

up Tor. $1,200 in Bitcoin had been deposited to your wallet. Keep up the good work. I checked, and I'll be damned if there wasn't $1,200 in my Bitcoin wallet. I wanted to jump for joy. I hadn't killed that woman for no reason. Well, you kind of did.

Yeah. Well, I mean, you killed her for money, but... I'd be able to feed my mom and maybe even give her a few days off of work. The only question is, would I do it again? At the time, I wasn't sure. As a matter of fact, it wasn't until I saw my mom sprawled out on the couch watching her favorite movie on her new TV with a small bowl of popcorn, a delicacy in our house, that I was sure, for my mother, I'd do anything. Edit, you can find part two here.

So that wasn't really a horror story, it was just like... I got paid to kill somebody, and I did. Yeah, it was like a third-rate Elmore Leonard short story. My favorite part is that it was literally bread that you were earning your money for. Yeah. $1,200, that's a lot of bread. What, you mean like the 70s slang for money? No, it's a lot of bread.

It's literally bread that's all poor people eat is bread. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Works on two levels. It's a good story. Then three weeks later, I was arrested because of all the DNA in the clothing that I left behind. They pulled one of my arm hairs out of the sleeve of the sweater. And I left my boots there.

Not our boots, but... Poor boots. Let's see here. All right, so I hope you all like Ellipses, because Achilles Heeles is going on an Ellipses-fueled tirade with But As I Am A Disgrace. All run together. Yeah.

It's not a dream. God damn it! It's not! Well, hi there. Hi, I am a disgrace. I don't really know how to start this, but before anything, I'll let you know on who I am and all that. Dot, dot, dot.

The name is Daniel. Dot, dot, dot. Well, my name is Daniel... This is not starting... No, it's not. Well, I'm 27 now, but the story is set when I was 21. I was coming back from a local market that was two miles from my house. Dot, dot, dot, dot.

Bought a pack of cigs. Two packs of chips. Dot, dot, dot. Salt flavored. Dot, dot, dot. I know. Basic, but what can I say? Dot, dot, dot, dot.

Anyway, I got a cold brew can. New paragraph. Anyway, I got a cold brew can. New paragraph. And started my half-broken Toyota Corolla and went home, dot, dot, dot. As I was halfway back home, comma, comma, dot, dot, dot. I started hearing mumbling, dot, dot.

Like two people talking pretty much, but incoherent, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot. All of a sudden, something small ran across the road on four legs a bunch of dots it looked like those conspiracy videos of like the rake or something it was white but it was fast i'm in style i can't read all the dots i'm sorry yeah it's okay a ton but it was fast. A deer? No. Too small.

A rabbit? But they weren't local in my area. Well, whatever it was, it passed the road not even two feet from my car, making me pretty much drift to a stop. Drift? I heard the bushes and sticks and sticks break as whatever that

passed the road kept running away. I checked my car and nothing was on it and no damage was dealt. Welp, after almost having a heart attack, I got in my car, spooked, and went back home. As I pulled in my house driveway, I just got a weird feeling of confusedness for what passed my car.

Anyways, I thought, I unlocked the door as I locked my car got in. This is a riveting scene. Locked the door and went and watched some good old anime. Yes, I'm a weeb. Judge me harder, daddy. I bet that factors into the story later. Judge me harder, daddy. I bet that factors into the story later. Judge me harder, daddy.

No. Stop that. Stop that. Thanks, daddy. Anyways, I'm watching some episodes and unexpected power outage came. Everything went dark. That sounds terrible.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot. That sounds fucking terrible. But, oh, God, the Ghost of Boots is back! They released him. The actual scariest thing to happen so far. But they weren't common in my area, so I got my phone flashlight. I was a little confused since there was no rain or hurricane or something to damage the power,

but it didn't monitor me at the time. Just wanted to wash my shit and get to sleep. So I went and screwed my electricity box thingy. The breaker box. I don't know what they are. I just checked if it's not. That screwed me over. As I walked towards my backyard to see,

I swear I heard two people talking. Like, like before. I crouched down and proceeded to go where I heard the sound. It was coming from my yard. We've heard of stoner comedies. This is the first stoner horror I've seen. I'm just picturing him reciting the story to a reporter.

Yeah, at this point I'm afraid, but I proceed. I always carry a Swiss Army little tool thing, because my Toyota used to break a lot. So I had that for any case. Wait. Fixes his Toyota with a Swiss Army knife.

Yeah, I mean, it's real redneck ingenuity, you know. Had a real knife on that tool. Not a big one, but it had three or four inches, so I felt safer. The closer I got, the sound was getting louder. My ears ring at this point. I was feeling a small amount of pain from how loud it was. I'm shitting

bricks at this point. When I get to my yard, high out of my side, I peek at the backyard. There. There was nothing. But I suddenly hear very silently someone or something running up silently towards the woods from how loud

this mambling was. I can still hear it. You heard someone running up silently? Yeah. Running up silently. I heard it run silently. The sound of the running was silent. The mumbling was loud. I think I gotta maybe skip some shit, because I don't know.

Uh, well, oh, no, hold on. Alright. I don't even think the power is back. I get in my house, lock every single door, lean outside, I roll down the curtains we have all across the house. The sun's not allowed in my area, and the shot came from the forest. Call my buddy who works

the forest guard or some shit. I always ask him if the power went out for him because he lives 10 miles from me. He's confused. He told me he didn't have a power outage. I just brushed it off since he was far away. I was so afraid, so I didn't want to think about it. Now, I didn't call the cops

because I think, the fuck I'm going to say? Castor's friendly ghost in my yard, you can call Ghostbusters? Ha ha. So I'm going to say? Castor's friendly ghost in my yard, you can call Ghostbusters? Ha ha. So I just went to sleep. Worst decision ever? R slash no sleep would say yes. How dare you? You're bad.

I woke up at 4.26am. I suffered two, three hours. I woke up for no apparent reason, really. No sound, no bang. I woke up for no apparent reason, really. No sound, no bang. Just jumped up. I thought, well, shit, if I can't even sleep in peace, what am I going to do? I got there as a piece. I got towards the toilet while I was slowly walking through the hall.

I started hearing that sound again. The mumbling. At this point, I was shitting globes. I haven't heard that expression before. Yeah, that's a new one. It's spookier. Like with the stands and everything? Yeah. That's the only scary part of

the story. The sound, it was much more distorted and slowed down than the last time. I practically ran to the toilet, locked the door, and just stood there for what felt like three hours. New paragraph. What felt like three hours was, in fact, three minutes.

The sound. It started getting louder. What was wrong about it is it was coming from inside my head. It was so loud. I tried to open the toilet light. What? He opened the toilet light. The toilet light.

This probably somehow harkens back to the flashlight fetish this episode. Sorry, flashlight enthusiasm. Open the toilet light is like the command you have to type into a parser adventure game. That like, it's to sell the hint book. You know exactly. Because nobody in their right minds would think to type open the toilet light. That's how you get the light bulb. You need it for the other puzzle.

That's part of the tricky solution of infidelity. I was that scared. I didn't even notice. The second I pressed the damn switch, hell broke loose. The light blew up. The mirror cracked. The faucet blew off, blowing water everywhere. Goddamn sound

was so loud! And all of a sudden, I wake up on the couch. TV off. Light on. As if nothing happened. I know I woke up like it was a dream, but it was all too goddamn real. There's gotta be something here.

I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, I don't want it. I don't want to see it. And I hopefully won't ever have... Fuck. I hopefully won't ever again have to pass something like that again. This is a story where literally nothing happened. Yeah, it was a bad trip.

I heard some silent people, and there was a gunshot, and then my faucet blew up. It felt like three hours, but it was in fact three minutes. I know it sounds like I was dreaming, but I wasn't. It's a story. For real. Hey, I got a story.

I was hosting an F Plus episode. And then I wasn't. And now I am again. So my name is now Eluviet. And I'm going to read a story called The Lion in My Yard. Oh, I love this children's book. Good.

Good. I've got three upvotes from this. Wow. I was reading the stories about the park ranger and the stairs in the woods when I was reminded of a very strange thing that happened when I was a child. I've told this story to a couple of people but I generally try to avoid bringing it up because people think I'm crazy and because it still makes me shiver to think about it I've decided to tell it

just to get the story out of my head and hopefully find other people with similar stories or can tell me what happened I lived in a house that was on the outskirts of a town in Midwestern United States. Oh no, get out of there! It was

the capital M in Midwestern, so it's the county of Midwestern. In the state of United States. We owned about three acres of land with the majority of it making up our backyard when you walked out of our backyard there was a small brick patio that we used to play basketball on beyond that was just an open field with a few trees of various sizes peppered throughout

we have an a we had an above ground pool near the very back of the property that we never used. The story exists, I believe, because my two brothers refused to come outside and play basketball with me. If I hadn't been outside alone, this might not have happened. It was about midday, and I was playing basketball. In my head, my team was down two with three seconds left,

and the coach was calling me back to take the final shot. For the fifth or sixth time in a row, I had missed the previous five or six, but it's my fantasy, so I get a redo. I take the shot, and I miss, of course. The ball bounces over in front of a tree about ten yards

out into the yard. I walk over to the ball in a defeated manner, because I've just lost the game for my imaginary team for the seventh time at least today. I'm really good at fantasizing. I bent over to pick up the ball when I stopped dead in my tracks.

About 30 yards away standing there staring at me is a lion. A real full grown lion. The lion, the witch in the wardrobe had not come out. I'm fucking old. Yeah. Yeah.

Wow. And I hadn't read the books yet, but I had been able to make that. But had I been able to make that reference, I would have. Oh, the movie he's talking about. Okay. This is Reddit. People don't read books they want to read. Sorry.

It was huge, and it was just staring at me. My 10 to 12-year-old brain can't understand what's going on. It wasn't there just a minute ago, I'm sure. And I'm old enough to know that lions should not be anywhere near us. But I'm also old enough to know that lions should not be anywhere near us, but I'm also old enough to know that they're very dangerous, so my brain immediately goes into flight mode, but first,

I have to get my ball. I'm already there, so why not? Yeah, if you're having that thought, then your brain is not in flight mode. It's in flight consideration mode. I pick up my ball, vision obscured by the tree it was sitting against momentarily and prepare to run into the house

as quickly as I can I stand up and look to make sure the lion has not gotten any closer when I am again stopped dead in my tracks the lion is gone but what is standing in its place terrifies me much more than the lion. There's a man there in a black suit.

The whole suit is black. The tie, the shirt, the pants, the jacket. He's in a Cadillac. Movie furniture. It's a rancid song. He's in his 60s, maybe. He's old enough to have wrinkles and gray hair cut short. His face doesn't convey anger.

He doesn't seem to have any expression on his face. Imagine Johnny Cash's Out Among the Stars cover. Despite this, I can feel rage emanating from his direction. So it's the G-Man, right? Yeah. I can tell that this is not right. Nothing about this situation is possible, and there's no reason I should be more afraid of an old man than a lion. I decide that I've been standing there for too long already.

I don't remember exactly how long I've been standing there, staring at this impossibility, but it's been too long. Agreed. I turn my back to the man in order to run towards my house I don't look back until I'm inside and the door is locked after I catch my breath and calm down I look out of one of the windows facing the backyard and he's no longer there

but I already knew that I can no longer feel the hatred that he had for me so I know I'm safe I don't tell anybody I don't tell anyone about this for a long time and I definitely never go back into the backyard by myself again. So that's

my story! I am interested to hear if anyone else had something similar to happen or if anyone can just explain what happened. Yeah, that was a dream. And what about something stupid? You explain how it's real. As a Redditor, I can definitely

understand what it's like to never go back outside again. So we're now leaving part four of the document titled Night of the Going Night of the Living Going Outside. And entering part five of the document, which is titled What if video games were, like, haunted? Gasper.

And that sounds like... Actually, who hasn't read recently? Nutshell, I think? Nutshell, yeah. Nutshell. Nutshell, you your kaboom 762 okay and there's there's a ghost trying to play your ps4 lol there's a ghost trying to play my ps4 lol this is pretty creepy but not the creepiest thing i've

gone through at my home well why are we hearing about that instead you all don't rate the creepiest story I have. You're not ready for it. Yeah. My brother left Saturday to his mom's house. Important later. Okay, so it's Sunday. Well, was. And my family and I are already turning off everything. You're confused because it's her brother or their brother left to go to his mom's house?

Your brother left to go to his mom's house. I'm confused by the decisions to construct sentences. Half-brother, step-brother, families have more than two moms. Okay. Dude. Good me. I'm watching TV and my mom asked me something. I gesture for her to listen and ask her if she hears that,

which was the PlayStation 4. If anyone is familiar, turn on and make the noise it does whenever you make a selection she says no so i open the door of the basement i listen closer and ask her if my brother has came home she says no so i ask her if anyone is downstairs and she says no again i am completely creeped out because all the lights are off playstation should be off in the tv anyways i put on my grown-up pants. I'm 19. And I go downstairs to investigate because, one, I have my shotgun downstairs. What?

And two, I just wanted to make sure there was no one downstairs. Okay. Watch out, they might have a shotgun. Yeah. Also, you think those are grown-up pants. They aren't. Get the shotgun down there in case you shoot the PlayStation. Okay, so I go downstairs and the PlayStation

is on and my brother's profile is selected and the controller is off. I'm sorry. And the controller is off! I shoot the TV. I investigate more, you know, looking around for signs of an intruder and nope.

I turn off everything and go back upstairs. Now, I'm laying here on the couch and it's 1.38am and I hear the sound the PS4 makes when you're going through the options on the main menu. It sounds like someone is just pressing down the left and right arrows so it'll quickly pace to the right and left and make the sound faster. so it'll quickly pace to the right and left and make the sound faster. I don't know if I should investigate and risk seeing some scary-ass shit like most of you here have, or just sleep it off, lol. Sleep it off, kids. Sleep it off. I'm glad you didn't go see the scary stuff,

because that would have really ruined your scary story. I'm kind of scared that you're 19 and you have a shotgun in the basement. This is like, what if Christine wasn't a car? What if Christine was possessing something that couldn't run people over? You like that one Freddy Krueger movie where he goes into the video game and kills the kid in the video game. Hey, Zarla. I've heard you've got a problem with Pokemon Yellow version

I have many problems Let's see Zero upvotes Is this the best of those first few Pokemon games? Don't get me started Is that your problem? Let's see I haven't been able to talk to people about this

Not even my own family Because they don't want to hear me talk about Pokemon for some reason. But I need to let this out. Like many kids, I love Pokemon. I still do. Just not as much. When I was around 10 or 11 for Christmas, my mom bought me Pokemon Yellow Version. I loved it so much.

I played it mostly on my Game Boy Advanced SP and loved every minute of it. I bragged to all my friends that I had one of the original Pokemon games. Well, they had newer ones like Ruby and Sapphire or Diamond and Pearl. I was a pretty bad gamer, but I loved the story. I was Ash Ketchum. I had Pikachu and all the starters. After a year or so, I graduated from elementary school and got out of Pokemon, calling it kid stuff. Once I went to high school, anime and Japanese games were and still are my life.

Now, at 17, I recently found my Pokemon Yellow cartridge and, well, that's what the problems arouse. A few weeks ago, when I found Yellow, I almost screamed in joy. I had just read Pokemon Vanga, so I was in a Pokemon craze. My red version was acting up, freezing, and just shutting off, so I was in a Pokemon craze

my red version was acting up, freezing and just shutting off, so this was a relief for me breaking out into Pokemon hysterical bits Pokemania my Gameboy Advanced SP no longer works so I put the cartridge in my clear purple Gameboy color, only 90's kids

remember this, am I right? I already had it this guy knows what I'm talking about. You know in the back there. If you were 10 or 11 when Diamond and Pearl came out, then you're barely a 90s kid. This might be me because I had an SP and a clear purple game. You wrote this story. I did.

I already had a save file. Checking it out, I was named Red and had two Pokemon, Pikachu, the starter, and Pidgey. I clicked A and started my adventure again. It was fun for a few days, and this is how I looked. Six Pokemon, Pikachu, Pidgeotto, Nidorino, Charmander, Squirtle, and Ivysaur. Four badges and multiple items. Things started to go bad when after I left the Rocket Hideout to the Pokemon Tower with the Silph Scalp, the music was as creepy as always.

The nights of reading creepy posters about Lavender Town didn't help. As soon as I entered the tower, that's when things became strange. Oh no. My game changed. What I mean is it turned black and white. My game is in color. It is a Game Boy Color! But it was like the original Pokemon.

Chekhov's Game Boy Color. I left and it was in color again. So I went back in and yet again it was black and white. I wrote it off as an old game acting up. I beat Blue, the rival, and battled Trainers. Things were fine. My Charmander evolved into a Charmeleon. But after a while I noticed something.

The graves were shaking. Every time I went up for a closer look it would stop. With my heart pounding. I went to the part where you use the silph scope to identify the ghost as Myrowack. But the ghost stayed. I sent out Pikachu and tried to attack it. Thundershock, quick attack, thunder wave, nothing. I realized the game was either glitching or broken, so I hid, run to escape.

But nothing was working. The ghost finally made my Pikachu faint, and my Pikachu made a static-sounding cry instead of saying, Pika. The text read, Pikachu has died. What does that mean? Pokemon don't die, they faint.

That's what the Pokemon Centers are for. I thought my next Pokemon would come out, Pidgeotto, but it said, Red blacked out. I was then in the Pokemon Center, and my Pokemon were getting healed. I got them back from Nurse Joy, and after exiting, I realized something strange. My Pikachu wasn't behind me.

I almost had a panic attack, and clicked on my Pokemon to check on them. Pikachu was there, but the avatar was not a Pikachu, but a skull and crossbones! How amazing would it be if that's how the games actually worked? Teaching kids about death. Pokemon Dark! Maybe more like Monster Rancher. This is for all the mar hilarious, honestly. Teaching kids about death. Pokemon Dark! Maybe more like Monster Rancher. This is for all the marbles, kids. This is serious.

I clicked on Pikachu and saw something terrifying. It's the skeleton of a Pikachu. That would be kind of scary looking. That's awesome. Rendered in the extreme number pixels of a Game Boy. I felt my heart beating in my chest and my ears hurt after listening to its loud static cry. It was if Pikachu had died and rotted away. I turned off the game I had saved right after fainting and put the game on my nightstand and sat back in my bed.

I don't blame you guys if you don't believe me. I barely believe it myself. I haven't turned on my Game Boy since. I had nightmares about Pikachu's skeleton chasing me. Literally asking me in plain English, Why, Red, why did you let me die? I woke up with sweat dripping down my face. I can barely watch Pokemon videos anymore.

I need help, because whether this is a hacked game or what, I just don't feel safe anymore. Please, someone help me. Why, Red? Why do you suck at this game? Why didn't you use a potion, Red? Why? Why didn't you use a PokeDoll and glitch the game? Getting too deep. We're reaching the tail end of this document.

I realize now at this point that we've gone through so many of these stories that none of us are ever going to sleep again. Probably for at least weeks. I'm cured from sleeping. A million years. Yeah.

You're cured of the problem of sleep. Truth in advertising. He needs coffee. He's more productive now. Yeah. To be honest, I think that this is a lot more fun. There's a lot more positive energy than the NoFap. So I'd say no sleep is better than NoFap.

I know which one I'd rather read. These people are trying. I think no sleep's definitely healthier for your mind than no FAP, that's for sure. I mean, I'm not really sure what differentiates this from creepypasta. I mean, I think that even if some of these stories aren't that great, it's kind of a good, like, practicing ground for people who maybe have some interest in writing and just aren't very good at it yet. So maybe they'll, maybe some good stuff will come out of this. I don't know.

Well, it'd help if, like, commenters could actually tell you what you're doing wrong, which they can't, according to the rules. Yeah, according to the rules, there's this weird role-play element where everybody has to pretend like these are actual for real Reddit posts. Well, you got the upvote and downvote still, so people can go look at the ones that get a lot of votes and the ones that don't. It's true. I don't know. Look, I know you got killed by a Pikachu, but really, you need to check your grammar.

Isfahan, we got one last video game story here. Uh-oh. Your name is Electric Fire. Okay. Electric Fire. Electric.

Electric Fire. Okay, so this story is entitled Super Mario World on Super Nintendo I love that game I'm already scared I know that probably nobody will believe my story, but I don't care

I just need to share it to someone because I don't want to be the only one to know it That's like the motto of the internet I know you don't care, but I'm going to talk anyway only one to know it. That's like the motto of the internet. Yeah. I know you don't care, but I'm going to talk anyway. I tried to post this last week. My electricity went out for 22 hours. Can you go outside? Oh, wait, no,

you can't. And I hope this time I hope it will work. I hope that I hope. Anyway, here is what happened. By the way, English is not my primal language, so please bear, as in to expose, with me. Go on. Last year.

So I spent a week at my grandma's house after school year, like every year. Just before I left, I found an old box full of old junk, and there was an old dusty Super Nintendo console and two games. The first one was Mario Kart, as in shopping cart. Mario a la Kart. And the second was Super Mario World. I didn't like Mario games, but I decided to take them anyway. A few days later, it was rainy outside, and I decided-sided to stay inside and play games like Battlefield 4, like usual.

And I saw that old Nintendo console lying down in my closet. I plugged it in and played Mario Kart with a C. Everything was okay, except it kept crashing. So I played Super Mario World. When the home screen appeared, there was that Mario plumber walking around throwing a turtle shell. Because I didn't have friends. It's a real horror story.

I chose the one player option. The first level was easy, but after that I realized there was no music playing all this time. I told myself that the cassette was old, and there might be some minor glyphs in the game. In the second level, there was this thing called Infobox, and when I punched it, there was some weird Japanese letters. But then the screen went purple, and the typical Super Mario Bros. song played backwards. screen went purple and the typical Super Mario Bros. song played backwards. It didn't have any secret

messages because it's an instrumental. Then I imidat- Side to side, hands your wave. Then I imidatly closed the game. I thought I could post my

story to a creepypasta- creepypasta website. But almost right before my grandma called me, she told me if I took anything from the boxes in the attic, I lied no. Then she whispered thank God to herself and hung up.

And that made me think that I could ask my stepbrother to help me record a gameplay, but he refused to listen to my story, which is an odd sensation. So I let him play the game by himself. After 30 minutes, he walked out of my room with that a face I will always remember

and told me, stealing from other people is bad, you know? And he ran away. Lately, the cops found him in the sewer. I can't tell you how my stepmom was happy that he is alive. What? He floats now. So he really ran away.

He went down a pipe. Yeah. He went down a pipe in real life. My God, video games do influence kids. That night I made a scary dream. Everything was purple and there was a weird slow music. You were in a milk bar. The next day, I decided to play until the end this time and act like a man.

When I opened the game, there was no Mario ruining around, just a black screen with two saved files. One was mine, Yoshi's Island, the other was called Playing with Coins. I chose my file, but it re-asked when I clicked. I really wanted to stop playing, but somehow I wanted to know what will happen. The level looked like the second level, but some of the texture was missing.

The enemies was replaced by a white block with a red X on it. So it's like a missing image file. Version knockoff is terrible. The coins was gray and the question mark brick thing stoped turning. The music was the same. You're playing the Gianna Sisters brothers. Yes. Super Gianna Sisters.

God, only 80s kids will get that. Okay. gianna sisters god only 80s kids will get that okay uh music was just really slow but mario didn't have the usual walk or jump animation later in the level i noticed that the football dude was suffocating in a textureless purple block uh At the end of the level, Mario didn't celebrate. Instead, he walked past that castle thing, and a bunch of real baby screen was coming from my speakers. Baby screens. A bunch of real baby screen was coming from my speakers. Just pictures of babies, I assume?

From the speakers, yeah. And the screen went purple, and the game crashed. I opened the game once again. There was no home screen, just Mario, legless, floating through a castle door. And a castle-ty level begins. There was just the torso of Mario floating around and there was no obstacle. Then my grandma called me again. She told me, I know you did it.

Your mother did it, Toe, you know? And I hope you... it. Your mother did it, Toe, you know? And I hope you- I hunged up. Now go, Grandma, play video games! Not right now, Grandma! It really does undermine the screwiness doing that. Then I continued to play the game. I couldn't stop. At the end of the level, there was a red door Leading to what I thought was a spiky Turtle boss, and I was right

As in the people who invented Powered flight But the lava looked more Like red water Yeah, it's Mario And the boss was purple This guy really has it out for purple Yeah, he really hates that color

I think that's like the thread he's weaving It's gonna pay off off yeah foreshadowing it's like the it's like the beethoven's motif of the story then the the head and the legs appeared sort of floating in that water and once again there was that purple screen and a bunch of one-up and coins noise backwards. Sudently, a super realistic princess toadstool eyeless picture appeared for about ten sec. Then there was the sentence, I know you did it.

The cassette popped out of the console. I thought it was finale over, so I took an hammer and smashed it and threw the pieces in the woods of my backyard. I took an hammer and smashed it and threw the pieces in the woods in my backyard. I took the recording and copied it out on a CD so I can send it to an old friend

that used to live near my house in Canada. You wouldn't know him. But he moved in California a few years ago. I sent the video along with the letter. I wrote, in French, Dear Thomas, I don't know if you ever heard about the Super Mario World game, but here is the gameplay that I recorded myself. It may sound a bit funny, but I am not 100% sure if this is safe.

You'll understand why. Please send me a letter after. Your old friend, Jesse. And I still have his bond in my email box. Dear Jesse, didn't look at your video yet, but I think that you read too much creepy, creepy pasta lately, like Sonic.exe and things like that. How desperate do you have to be to name drop another creepy pasta in your creepy pasta?

They'll have to link back to me now. Yeah. My mom was the first one that read your letter, and she thought that you are taking drugs, so do I. But don't worry, it'll listen to your stupid bullshit video, and I will send you an email

instead of an boring letter. Your ex-friend, Thomas. Harsh. That's harsh. It's cold. I want to read Thomas' version of the story. Dear Reddit, I think my friend's on drugs.

I actually would read that story. He sent me a letter in French. I don't speak French. I want to find a video game maker and have them make all these creepypasta video games. This one would be easy. Just color everything

purple and you'll freak some kid in California out. Purple backwards music. It's after one week my father gave me a small package and a letter. It was from Thomas. Their letter said, Dear Jesse, I know what you did it.

Thomas, in the package was a plastic box with a bunch of letters written in black. Inside the box there was my CD, all scrapped. And I made nightmares of a Mario, climbing purple stairs, and of the princess picture from that day. I still make them and I can't take it anymore. You don't have to believe my story. Okay.

If someone would tell. By the rules, I kind of do. Yeah. But you see, if they give you a release in the story, then you don't have to believe. Oh, good. You're finally freed. If they give you a release in the story, then you don't have to bleed. Oh, good. You're finally freed. If they give you a release in the story, you die in real life. The specific rules override the general rules.

If someone would tell me something like that, I wouldn't believe them. I hope you took the time to read my story. The last sentence in the story is, I hope you took the time to read my story. I didn't read it. I skipped the last line. You just skipped to the last sentence, I hope you took the time to read my story. I didn't read it. I skipped the last line. You just skipped to the last sentence, and then you feel guilty. It's like, oh. You should have assumed at that point that the person had read the whole story.

Since I dropped out for like a third of the episode, the last section of this document I I'm just going to, I'm going to take for myself. Okay. Sure. So we, so we've just finished part five. What if video games were like haunted and we're now in part six, six, six perusing the tomes of terror,

otherwise known as a bunch of titles. Yay. Provided to us. The first one is, is sets a really high bar. Yeah. And so these were provided to us in the document by

Mix and Beelzebub. So thanks once again to Mix and Beelzebub. You can do it. It's all you. I can do this. I waterboard clowns for a living. I can do this. Go on, boots. I waterboard clowns for a living, and I fucked up bad. Click.

That's a great title, honestly. That's like a line somebody would panic say into a telephone in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Yeah. It's a terrifying realization in the middle of the African savannah. Ancient God stole my teeth. That needs an exclamation point. My name is Lily Madwhip, and I think my dad is trying to kill me. My girlfriend is the brain-eating alien. No one believes me that vampires play my life as a game.

I can't imagine why. Guys, my parents think I'm a virgin, but I'm kind of like not. Lol. Lol. Lol indeed. Welcome to Phantasma, a small crappy town in the middle of

Tennessee, part 15. Wow. Hi, my name is Max, and I eat the darkness, part three. I'm going down the list of this flyer, and I think I'm going to skip this film festival. I work at Walgreens in the middle of the woods. Record scratch. This one's also part three. I am haunted by a realistic dream about a world where everyone has formed a religion around chocolate milk. Part one.

Okay. My name is Lily Mad Whip, and there's nothing wrong with my brain. Lily, we weren't interested the first time. Hi, Lily. There was a zombie outbreak out west in the late 1800s. I'm here to tell you about it, part two. The guy whose body I'm possessing is a dumbass. I like that one.

That could be a good comedy movie, I think. T-shirt that says, I'm possessing stupid. I'm a 20-something white man, and let me tell you, my life has been a roller coaster. Oh, I bet. That's just Reddit. Another New York Times op-ed. Times op-ed. Inclement weather, large animals,

and other strange happenings outside a Costco in New Jersey. Part 5. I'm pretty sure inclement weather has happened outside Costco's in New Jersey without it being strange at all. Yeah. Let the boy talk. Hi, I'm 14 and I've killed 76 people.

My name is Lily Madwhip and I think a magician is going to murder my best friend. Lily, please, I'm on the phone. My dog, Mr. Pudding, is missing. I put up posters to help find him, and now someone is threatening and scaring me. I don't know. These new R.L. Stine books are just kind of... My brother and I run an antique store.

We're here to sell you some shit. I would love to see that commercial. It's like local access, you know. Hi, my brother and I run an antique store. We're here to sell you some shit. Some cheap green screen. Dick Mustard! The Adventures of Dick Mustard.

I'm Patricia Barnes, hitman for ghosts that only I can see. This is what happens when people don't realize what I'm capable of. She's just, like, firing guns in random directions all around her. No, I'm a hitman for ghosts that only I can see. Who's paying her to kill these invisible ghosts?

Eh, I'm not a devil summoner, but 50 bucks is 50 bucks. It's true. True. I drive for Cerber. It's like Uber, but

for the paranormal. And the reveal at the end is the guy's name is K-Ron, right? Young adult novels are getting so predictable nowadays. Mm-hmm. Yeah. I'm Lily Madwhip, and I'm being followed by a big black dog. Lily, go play with your friends, please.

We're busy. Victorian steampunk cosplayer Cannibals just killed my wife. That also needs an exclamation point. Tales from the gas station. Conversations with a dark god. I kind of wish it was a pun at the end, but that's okay.

You'll be petrified. Ah, yes. Nailed it. Yes. The Simpsons Milhouse's Rampage. They misspelled Millhouse. They did. Zero out of five.

Downvote into oblivion. No, it's an actual millhouse. Oh, okay. I jumped the gun. I apologize. My life was going great until the doctors discovered an ancient scroll lodged in my rectum. Rectum? Damn near killed him. How did they find that before you did?

It's an ancient scroll, so it's been there a long time. Yeah, I guess. A doctor stole my left eye. Now I see nightmares of other people. Did they give you a new eye, or... Like, normally you'd think that would

follow with, like, they give you a different person's eye, and then you see the other person's nightmares, but... Something's really weird about my sexy new neighbor life of a broken npc three stalkers p2 that time i saw a dog riding a dragon and uh my name is lily madwhip but i don't need a therapist lily please my name is lily madwhip and i protest too much five glasses of water go to sleep Achilles, we got one final little section here. Oh, sure. It's titled, provided by Nixon Beelzebub,

and it says, I have no idea why, but there's a bunch of functionally identical stories about camping in New Mexico and finding a skinwalker. Obviously, there's a skinwalker in New Mexico then, isn't there? Yep, it follows. I mean, come on, it's science. There's something in the New Mexico desert.

I thought they were coyotes. When I experienced the New Mexican wilderness, maybe it was a skinwalker? You know, these titles are actually forming a story of their own. Yeah. Did I meet a skinwalker in New Mexico? The New Mexico Chronicles. Skinwalker. Oh, that was New Mexico Chronicles. Skinwalker.

Oh, that was the prologue. Okay, this is the title. There's a skinwalker lurking in the Yemez Mountains of New Mexico. You know the legends about skinwalkers, right? New Mexico Skinwalker Experiences Part 1. Skinwalker birthday camping trip. Oh, they became friends. That sounds like something you'd find on clips for sale.

They got together and became friends. It's nice. Happy birthday to your skin suit. Camping alone, Skinwalker story. Was a Skinwalker trying to lure me in? Skinwalker took my cousin. It wasn't a Skinwalker that my friend saw.

Skinwalker took my cousin. That's the New Mexico version of Dingo ate my baby. Except Dingo's really did eat her baby, that poor woman. And Skinwalker's really took this person's cousin. She turned into a human joke and Dingo's did eat her baby.

Yeah. Okay, other than that, F+. What have we learned tonight? I love these stories. I do too. They're terrible. These stories, like... Predictable and beautiful.

These stories, they feel like they have some effort behind them. I don't mean succeeding. I just mean they seem to be trying harder than creepypasta people try. It really does remind me of you have an 11 or 12-year-old kid who's just trying to tell her the scariest story they can think of. And they're trying so hard. And you're just listening and it's like, yeah, yeah. They're trying so hard. And you're just listening in and it's like, yeah, yeah.

Oh, and then there was a skeleton and an X-Man. And then there was my video game. And oh, it was spooky. And you're like, yeah, that's great. That's great. This feels like a couple years down the line from that stuff where they know more about what to include in a story, but not the parts that actually contribute, because they'll get bogged down in details that don't pay off. They know these stories have been

upvoted, so they try to write stories like them, but they're not quite sure why they've been upvoted. I included all the tropes. I put all the pieces together. It's just not a puzzle. I'm still really confused by the Sweet Sweet Rachel one, because I don't know what was...

It was a bad date? I don't know. I think Boots might have missed that one. I cut out partway through that one. It makes just as much sense if that happened than if you had been there for the whole story. Yeah.

So, like like our podcast, we have the word terrible in our tagline for it. Terrible things read with enthusiasm. What I like about that is that the word terrible has such a broad sort of context. That's a very large paintbrush. Yeah. In cases like tonight, this terrible is adorable.

It is. Yeah. It's just endearing to me. Yeah, absolutely. This is a type of material that we haven't seen in a while on the podcast, and it's damn refreshing. None of the stuff felt like it was written to be bad on purpose. And not much of it was very mean-spirited. Although we haven't seen the comments, so God knows.

That's true. And no one was grinding mean-spirited. Yeah. Although we haven't seen the comments, so God knows. That's true. And no one was grinding a particular axe, really. Yeah, that was nice. There was the assassin dude who didn't like that rich lady, but that was kind of it. Everybody else is just like, my bananas are ripe. My Pikachu's a skeleton. And if your Pikachu's a skeleton come to Ball Pit and tell us all about it

Isfahan what's the URL for Ball Pit oh I think I took notes on this earlier oh here it is B-A-L-L-P dot I-T Ball Pit we've got some merch available the cassette tapes are all sold out but we've got the merch available The cassette tapes are all sold out

But we've got the Dave is my nemesis Nemesis Dave has a ponytail Sticker that Adam Bozo Designed based on the Garbage day 2019 What was that guy's name Dang I can't remember the guy's name Alabaster

I wrote a song about him Adromolek. Alabaster? I wrote a song about him. Adromolek, right? Yeah, Adromolek. Adromolek, that's it. Adromolek, yeah. I like that sticker a lot. That guy is great.

I love that guy. You should get some and stick them to things. And good night. Good night. Don't sleep. Yeah, good night, but stay up all night. You won't sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep. Go to sleep.

Sleep. Go, sleep, go to sleep Sleep, go to sleep You are now in a deep sleep It's gone from this day Oh, I'm back.