"What the hell, you stupid fucks? Stop camping or I'll shove a scalding iron rod up your urethra!" I grabbed another handful of pizza rolls off my plate and tried to swallow them all at once. I gagged a little and some fell onto my shirt, but I could manage. I was particularly furious, having been spawn-killed in Call of Duty for the past fourty-five minues. I couldn't just leave - oh, no - leaving meant that those insipid cum guzzlers won.
I blurted some more profanity into my microphone and dabbed my forehead with a towel. Having wiped the pizza grease from my hand onto my Pokemon bed sheets, I nonchalantly reached into my boxer shorts and scratched my testicles. After a couple of minutes, I pulled my hand back out and slowly raised it up to my nose. I took a deep whiff and instantly realized something was wrong.
It smelled like spaghetti. What the hell? When was the last time I even had spaghetti? A chill ran down my spine. Thoughts ran through my head regarding diseases that caused your scrotum to smell like Italian food; I convinced myself I was being ridiculous and focused on my important game session.
Early the next morning, I was eating some Cap'n Crunch in my dining room downstairs. A few dishes from God knows when still lay on the table; they couldn't hold a candle to the shitstorm in the kitchen. I shifted a little and felt my chair squeak under me.
"Oh, Cap'n," I said while fluttering my eyes. "You'd never leave me, would you?" I stood up in order to reach the box to pour some more when my hand accidentally flipped over the bowl. The remaining milk splashed all over my legs.
"Fucking NIGGERS!" I balled my hands into chubby fists and punched Cap'n right in his smug little mouth. The box fell over and cereal spilled out onto the table like an eviscerated monkey's dinner. I calmed myself, pinching the bridge of my nose and sighing. I'd need some paper towels. I headed into the kitchen and sidestepped around some of the garbage bags. I reached the counter with little time to spare and grabbed the whole roll just to be safe.
After cleaning up my mess, I went into my room, took off my boxer shorts, and thre wthem into my hamper. I grabbed some underwear out of my drawer, but before I had the chance to put them on, I remembered my experience from last evening. I stared down at my crotch in silence for a couple of minutes before mustering up the courage to grab my balls. I handled them around a bit before disengaging and bringing my hand up to my face. I gasped and staggered backwards, falling onto my bed and probably splitting a crack in the frame.
There was no doubt about it. Salt and vinegar chips. I fucking despise salt and vinegar chips. I was at a loss for words. Suddenly, I didn't feel safe in my own apartment. The rest of the day I pretty much sat around in a trance, trying to comprehend the implications of this phenomenon and drolling a little. Night came soon enough, giving me a chance to rest my mind. I fell asleep quickly.
My eyes opened drowsily as I woke up. I had kicked my covers to the side while I was asleep. My alarm clock read 2:17 AM. Ugh, whatever. I propped myself up to grab my covers and screamed. At the edge of my bed sat the most putrid, disgusting creature I had ever seen (no, I was NOT looking in a mirror). Its beady eyes were sunken into its contorted mockery of a face, with patches of hair dotting its scalp. Mottled grey flesh was peeling all over its body, and in some places there were clusters of tumors with puss leaking out. But the worst thing was its mouth. Oh, God, its mouth. It had no lips, and its long, yellow, gnarled teeth jutted out at an unnatural angle, with enough space in-between for its barbed tongue to hang out.
I wanted to puke, or scream, or something, but I was in shock. I began to move my legs when I realized that something was wrong with my crotch. I didn't dare look down to find out what it was. It was then that I noticed the...thing was holding something. A fucking knife. Wait, no... Now that my eyes were adjusting to the dimness, I could see the shape was wrong. What was that...a goddamn butter knife?
The monster raised its other hand slowly, revealing a small jar rested on its palm. It made what I assumed was a smile before slowly gurgling out the words,
I screamed until I passed out.