User blog comment:HumboldtLycanthrope/The Collaborative Cliche Pasta/@comment-25148755-20150310133451

Slenderman's disembodied voice chuckled, his laugh echoing throughout the clearing.

"It'll take a bit more than a sharp rock to kill me, Mikey. But don't worry," his empty face seemed to smile, "I was only testing you with that bit about the ritual.  Those things are ridiculous.  I just needed to make sure you were competent.  Some of my previous proxies have been less than...satisfactory.  As of late." His blank gaze seemed to shift upward. Mikey followed it to see the body of the Observer twined high in the branches of a nearby tree. The figure let out a soft moan; the Observer was still alive, and in a great deal of pain.

Slenderman continued. "Still, there IS a ritual involved.  It's just a little more complicated, annotated in the pages of the dread Necronomicon, written by the mad Arab Al Azif."

His voice grew deeper, louder,

"To kill the Great Cthulu, Master of the Deep,

You must collect the totems of the creatures known as Creeps

A reel of film from Candlecove, the Smile Dog's wicked leer,

The soothing tones of Lavender Town, and both of Dead Bart's ears,

A frame from Squidward's Suicide, the gun that made Mouse's last peep,

And last of all, a whisper from Jeff intoning 'Gothe  to Sleep.'"

"I thought the Necronomicon was written a long time ago," Mikey whispered.

"It was," replied Slenderman, "It changes.  Now get rid of that ridiculous mouse head." One of his tendrils extended a mask, similar to the one worn by his other proxies. "From here you have thirteen days.  Collect the items.  I'll tell you what to do with them. Don't fail me."

The Slenderman disappeared, leaving Mikey alone in the forest. He wandered about for a time before finding his way to a worn down road. A beaten down car came rolling up, the albino driving.

"Hop in, kid," he said with a smirk, "I'll give you a lift back to town."