User blog comment:Creepy Thomas O./The Plagiarism of Michael Nemeth/@comment-25220801-20161209130920

My own effort, inspired by Michael Nemeth, and not that charlatan Thomas O.:

 "The Copying of Michael Nemeth", a short creepypasta by CharminglyShallow.

Michael flopped onto his bed, his index finger red and exhausted from three straight hours of copying and pasting. It's not every day that someone can complete a five-hundred page book in only a few hours, but Michael had done it. He was pleased with himself, and he soon fell into a deep slumber with a big, dumb smile spread across his face.

It wasn't too long after that when he was awoken by a knocking sound at his bedroom door.

"Who door is my at?" thought Michael in his typical disjointed thought pattern.

Suddenly, the door was flung open, and various monsters, creatures, and demons came streaming into his room.

"Me happening what me to?" screamed Michael.

The lead monster, a red, one-eyed cyclops, paused for a moment. With a confused look upon its face, it turned towards the next closest monster (a blue one) and asked, "What the fuck is he trying to say?"

"I think... I think he's asking what's happening to him," the blue monster suggested.

"Ohhhh," said Red. He turned and looked at Michael. "We're the monsters you stole from other authors. You see Michael, sometimes, when the correct combination of emotions surrounds a character, it can actually come to life. In our case, the mixture of fear from the readers, along with the frustration felt by the writers you stole from, and the smug sense of accomplishment that you yourself felt, have all combined in such a unique way that we are all now alive.”

Michael pondered that for a moment, then walked across the room and grabbed a pencil and tablet from the table. “Stuff good,” he said. “Repeat so I down write.”

Red was confused once again, but Blue seemed to pick up on what Michael was trying to say. “He wants you to repeat what you just said. I have a hard time believing this, but he actually wants to steal it from you.”

“What?” raged Red as he hit the pencil out of Michael’s hand. “Those are my words! Think of your own!”

For the first time in his life, Michael felt some shame. He hung his head low so that he was looking directly at his Crocs.

Red spoke again. “Michael, it’s too late for any sort of contriteness on your part. We’re here for one thing, and one thing only.” The was a certain menacing quality to his voice.

It was at that moment that Michael had one of his extremely rare linear thoughts. “These are fictional creations. I can write my way out of this!”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">He feverishly began scribbling in his tablet. Over his shoulder, both Red and Blue could see what he was jotting down.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Red mostr say he leave and ice crème

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Red looked at Blue and shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">“He’s trying to write us into a story. Apparently, you’re supposed to leave here and get some ice cream or something like that.”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Red nodded as he looked at Michael. “This idea of yours might’ve worked, if only you had the ability to put a coherent thought on paper. Unfortunately for you, this makes very little sense. I’m not going to do that.”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Michael, with desperation in his eyes, continued writing.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Monsrts Blu leve head bak of smak red

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">“Oh wow!” shouted Blue. “He’s trying to get me to hit you on the back of your head. He wants us to fight each other, and not him.”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Michael nodded like a bobble-head doll. Trying to write these creatures into a story, to save his own ass, was literally the only good idea Michael had ever had. Sadly for him, he lacked the ability to carry it out.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">“This isn’t going to work, Michael,” Red said with a sigh. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. Well, before we do this, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">Michael thought for at least twenty seconds, then finally said, “I like popsicles and shiny objects.”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">“What does that have to do with anythi…” Red started to say. “No, I don’t even care anymore. Time’s up, Michael.”

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">With that, Red, Blue, and all the other creatures behind them swarmed upon Michael and gave him an atomic wedgie, quite possibly the most atomic-iest of all time. Michael screamed as his underwear was pulled all the way over his head. He fell to the floor crying.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">The creatures all looked satisfied as they began to slowly fade away. “Do you think he’s learned his lesson, Blue?” Red asked of his friend.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;">“I dunno, Red. I somehow get the feeling we’ll be coming back here soon.”