Context
This story is a horrible piece of DOOM fanfiction that became widespread on the internet before /x/'s existence. It was originally posted on a message board by legendary troll author Peter Chimaera.
Pasta
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 Version
One day, I was watching the 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 while I do something more entertaining, anyway. 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, don't you go to sleep yet, I've got a great deal for you". I turned, looked back at the TV, and laughed to myself; how does this guy know I'm going to bed?
He looked rather stressed out, and like 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 70s. He was a well dressed man, I must admit. He had on a pinstripe suit garnished by a red rose attached to his jacket, a white shirt, and a black tie to finish 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 had 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 had been startled so much that I let loose a little dribble of pee. I just stared intently at the man's sunken eyes, whose pupils seemed to dominate almost all of the space, 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, and I was having trouble breathing. Some people refer to it as shock, but 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.
There were 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. Ones of me inviting the neighbors into my house, of them tied up, 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. 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 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.
Image Version
