Posted on a messageboard, this horrible piece of DOOM fanfiction is so bad, it's almost good. A famous pasta on the internet that was widespread before /x/'s existence. Originally created by legendary troll author, Peter Chimaera.
John Stalvern waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were demons in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Cernel Joson were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
John was a Space Marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY DEMONS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space station base of the UAC he knew there were demons.
"This is Joson" the radio crackered. "You must fight the demons!"
So John gotted his plasma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE IS GOING TO KILL US" said the demons
"I will shoot at him" said the cyberdemon and he fired the rocket missiles. John plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the demons" he shouted
The radio said "No, John. You are the demons"
And then John was a zombie.
suomynonA !h5wR/Rb85c EditionEdit
One day I was watching science channel, browsing /r9k/ and playing some old NES ROMs. I have a TV next to my computer monitor so I can do all of this shit at the same time. It was about 3am and I was really tired, having already brushed my teeth and washed my face, I was about ready to go to bed. I hadn't even noticed what I was watching at this point, it usually ends up as background noise anyway while I do something more entertaining. I glanced over and it seemed like some shitty infomercial just started, since it just turned 3:30. I got up to go to bed when I heard the guy on the TV say "hey you don't go to sleep yet, I've got a great deal for you". I turned and looked back at the TV and I laughed to myself, how does he know I'm going to bed?
He looked rather stressed out, as if he was forcing a smile. I noticed I couldn't see his hands, and he wasn't using them to talk like most people do. He actually seemed to keep them behind his chair. His teeth were a dark yellow brown color, as if they had been soaking in soda in that Mythbusters experiment. His eyes were drooped and his cheeks looked like they were pasted on, he must have been in his late 70's. He was a well dressed man I must admit, a pinstripe suit was garnished by a red rose attached to his suit jacket, a white shirt and a black tie finished off the whole deal. The more he spoke, the less I seemed to listen, focusing mostly on his affect than his words.
It was then that I realized that the volume decreased to a near mute at this time. I went to turn it up, but my remote control wasn't having any effect on my television. It was then that he blurted out, "Ahh, now that I have your attention, I have to get around to what I was going to tell you." at this point I let loose a little dribble of pee this startled me so much. I just stared intently at the mans sunken eyes, whose pupils seemed to dominate almost all of the eye including the whites. He began his speech once again, leaving a long pause where he slowly revealed his rotten teeth once again. "Now then, as you may or may not have realized this isn't exactly cable television anymore. No, far from it, this is meant especially for you." At this point my stomach was in my toes, I was having trouble breathing. Some people refer to it as shock, there should be another word to describe the intensity of fear that I felt. "I've been watching you for a while now, as you may or may not have noticed," he spoke. "there were times where I thought you weren't ready, however those feelings were quickly eradicated when I saw how easy it was to, how should I say, 'direct' you." As he said this, pictures of me completing daily chores came across the screen. They started out believable enough, me outside hanging laundry, me outside cleaning the pool, me through the window cooking dinner, me letting my girlfriend in through the front door. As they progressed they became less realistic and more as if this man was using noclip to get through my walls.
Pictures of me in the shower, pictures of me sleeping, pictures, pictures, pictures. They didn't seem to stop, his raspy voice repeating "'direct' you" over and over again. The pictures became more grim, pictures of me inviting the neighbors into my house, pictures of them tied up, pictures of them mutilated, decapitated, limbs rendered into separate pieces. At this point I was numb, I couldn't move. "remember now? don't you remember your directions? you were supposed to bury them, you were supposed to get rid of them. But what did you do? you simply left them there. They haven't moved since you've seen them last." I refused to believe this. It was too absurd. I had no recollection of anything like this happening, I didn't even talk to my neighbors let alone invite them over. "you did it, you did it John but you couldn't accept it. And that's why I'm here, that's what I had to tell you so bad. You tried to fight off the demons, but you simply couldn't. They took over." I had no idea what to think. I started to shout, as if the man in the TV could hear me.
"No! I must kill the demons!" I shouted
The TV said "No, John. You are the demons."
And then I was a zombie.