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The Official Crypticon Seattle 2017 Creepypasta!

Well, you got together with a disreputable horror writer and came up with the most terrifying creepypasta ever! (Ahem.) Well, it’s the most… words fail me. Here it is!

The Official 2017 Crypticon Creepypasta!

I wish I never I’d never checked out that fucking book from the library. It was entirely written in Latin. And it was 50 Shades of Gray. Supposedly, it’s haunted. And it’s etched in rock so it’s heavy as hell.

I accidentally ate it. That sucked. Going to the bathroom was really tough, but at least I got my day’s supply of minerals. However, it turns out the stone book was full of incantations, and I’m slowly turning into stone.

A few days later some dude found my statue, all stuffed with 50 Shades incantations. He took me to his museum and accidentally read the Latin aloud. He summoned a horde of demons from his nether regions! They were all demanding BDSM contracts!

Realizing his mistake, he called on some elves to help. But they were fuckin’ Santa’s elves! They all sat down and started making toys. But they’re BDSM elves, so they made a bunch of sex toys.

I was watching everything, but I couldn’t move. With tremendous effort, I fell on my face and shattered. All the elves tried to mount my stone body parts. These were horny elves! Then they became Republicans and started to filibuster. They wanted to redo the demons’ BDSM contracts with really stupid safe words.

Suddenly, the Santa’s elves turned into chocolate chunks! Holy shit! Then the Keebler elves jumped in through the window, attracted by the Republican chocolate chunks. They popped popcorn and watched the carnage as the demons bit the chocolate elves’ heads off and spit them out because they were bitter.

I’d been watching this from two different vantage points, because my eyes landed in two different places. I saw both the demons and the elves as they fought. Some of us tried to negotiate resurrection with the demons. The demons turn us back into meat. And now there’s bloody chunks all over the floor.

This attracted the local pack of zombie dogs. The Keebler elves hopped on the zombie dogs and rode them around. One of the dogs swallowed my eye as Papa Keebler gave a rousing speech to his now mounted cavalry of elves.

The demons were all like “screw this, this wasn’t what I was summoned for!” and they all went home.

The guy who read me and summoned the demons was hiding under his desk. The dogs sniffed him out. But he smelled like ass, so they left him alone. Sadly, he always smells like ass. He watched in terror as the zombie dogs finished eating the chocolate and meat elves, and a few of my chunks.

Now I live both here in the museum and inside a zombie dog. He eats a lot of interesting stuff. I do not look forward to coming out…


My eyeball got stuck in the zombie dog’s anus on the way out, but we have a psychic link and we can both see out his ass. He turned into a Japanese butt demon, and shows me to everyone. All of his parts are subtitled, because everybody hates dubbing. Especially ass demons.

Meanwhile, in the museum, I tried to become a crawling eye. I called to my other chunks and they formed together. I am now a weird Cronenberg creature. It’s kinda cool. Forgetting about my other eye, I decided to terrorize everyone, because I’m a fucking monster and why wouldn’t I?

I attacked an orphanage and ate one half of each orphan. Now I have a Cronenberg family. In fact, the orphans and I start a punk band called The Cronenberg Family. We specialize in 3-minute punk songs. We go on tours and eat all the bouncers. They’re juicy. But we only eat half of them so our band keeps growing. We are now the Cronenberg orchestra.

A movie producer heard our music and liked it so much he wanted to put it into a movie. It was a hentai starring a zombie dog with an eyeball for an anus, tentacles coming out of its face, and a Keebler elf grafted to its back. (Many Keebler elves have since been Akira’d into this. )

We thought there must be at least one person with this kind of fetish, so we knew somebody would follow us on YouTube. I guess a lot of people like tentacle-faced ass demons because we become hugely popular. Japan picked us up immediately. Now my eye-brother and I are gainfully employed. We’re super famous in Japan. Samara wants to make a Pokemon game about us!

The demons looked us up on their laptop and said “we’re really glad we missed this”

God looked down on earth and said “I’ve made a huge mistake.” 7 days of flooding weird well water followed. Fuckin Samara! Root beer floats burbled up out of the ground.

As the world ends I am sent to my own hell. A fake BDSM library and eternal late library fees.

But the demons have other ideas. They grab The Cronenberg Orchestra and try to take us to heaven. We meet God. He says three words to me: “What the fuck???”

He pimp-slapped me back to Earth, to the moment before I checked out that book. Whew!

I suddenly remembered I left the over on at home. So I went home.  The book was in the oven.  I accidentally ate the book…

THE END!!!!!!?????


Xavier Lopez




Lily Munn

Aaron S.

Angel Morales

And Lorelei

FEAR US!!!!!!!!

Check it out, here’s last year’s Crypticon Creepypasta!

The Official 2016 Crypticon Creepypasta

I wish I’d never seen those exploding rats.

My friend and I were playing a game of checkers in the sewer. Sure, it smelled bad, but no parents! I was winning. My friend Jim is a total loser. I was kicking his ass. When all of a sudden, a goat.

It stared at me. I stared at it. “Don’t trust Jim,” the goat mehed.

“Wut?” I said.

“Jim is cheating,” said the goat. “And he smuggles drugs. BEWAAAAAAARE!!!”

“That goat is a dick!” yelled Jim. Suddenly, a goat rose up from behind Jim! “Don’t be talkin’ smack about Jim! I will straight up gore your ass!”

The goats leaped at each other. Their horns smashed together, throwing sparks.

Just then, a guy walked in and said “I’d love to stay, but I’m having a drink with Jason Voorhees.”

The goat who warned me about Jim said, “Good call. If you buy that man a drink, he’ll be your buddy.”

“Wut? Aren’t we fighting? Said he other goat.

The goats glared at each other with hyper-realistic eyes!

A flood of rats poured from the goats’ ears. They ran wildly around the room, squeaking and saying “DOOOOM!”

R.L. Stine fell through the ceiling. His briefcase opened, and all his papers flew out. They wrapped up the goats and strangled them. The papers were angry, for they were rejected scripts for the Goosebumps movie. They were much gorier and creepier than the final draft, and felt very entitled. R.L. Stine screamed “You’re not seeing this! I never wrote those scripts!” Then his eyes fell out, and the rats ate them.

Suddenly, one of the rats exploded. It kind of popped like a popcorn, because R.L. Stein’s eyes were not  gluten-free and the rat was allergic. Snot-glitter went everywhere.

The exploding rat started a chain reaction. The other rats exploded one after another! I realized that the snot-glitter was really fancy Nickelodeon-brand slime. Jim drowned in it.

The slime peeled off the walls and turned into a beautiful green glittery stripper.  It seemed very proud of itself. It had three breasts and a penis. It was an incredible dancer.

R.L. Stine turned into a bunch of bats. “I’m freakin’ out of here!” the bats yelled in unison. “Me too!” Said Rod Serling. Then he flew away on a moose. The goat corpses, which had been stuck to the ceiling by the green slime, fell down with a nasty plop.

One of goats’ skeletons leapt out of its goat’s nose and did a little dance. I cheered wildly. So did the slime stripper. The dancing skeleton accidentally kicked the checkerboard and moved the pieces. Jim’s corpse got up and started screaming. “CHECKMATE!” he yelled. Then he realized we were not playing chess. “What the hell am I doing here then?” he screamed.

Jim left on a Kubrickian quest to find his identity. He didn’t even say goodbye. It wasn’t until later that I realized he had stolen my phone and my last ten bucks. Not to mention all my pot.

I was cursing at Jim’s corpse’s receding back when I found Jim’s phone. I called the Golden Girls. Someone on the answered the phone and screamed “How the hell is Betty White still alive? She’s like 250 years old!” Then they mumbled a terrifying incantation. My pubic hair burst into flames.

The slime stripper said, “I’d help you, but I have a strict no touching policy. And Gone Girl wasn’t really all that great of a movie. Ben Affleck is highly flammable, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that,’ I yelled, leaping into the river of effluent. To my horror, the water didn’t quench the flames.

“You need antibiotics,” said Nicolas Cage and two clowns. The clowns had crowns of beeeeeeeeees!

“I will help you,” said Nicolas Cage, “But you must help me find the Constitution first.”

“I’d rather drown,” I cried, “Than watch the remake of the Wicker Man!”

The clowns’ bees attacked Nic Cage and he yelled: “NOT THE BEEEEEES!” But they ate his face anyway. Now he was just a skull, but his skull looked exactly like his face. Weird. A horror stinger played. I peed a little. “Where the hell is that coming from?” said the goat skeleton. I didn’t know if it was talking about the horror stinger or the pee.

Garbador the Pokemon floated down the river of poop. “Hey bro!” he said. “The creators of this creepypasta are really running out of ideas! Let me put out your pubes for you.” He shot a stream of ice tea from his hyper-realistic eyeballs. But wait, it was Ice Tea the actor and musician! “What the ever loving fuck!” he yelled, before flying away on a unicorn. He talked about his acting career and his incredibly classy wife the whole way.”


I looked desperately around me. All I saw was Bridget Jones’s actual diary, and a VHS of “Space Jam.” I smashed them together onto my flaming nuggets. To my great relief, the fire went out. However, everything had been burned away and I now looked like a Ken doll. But wait! Flonase was rising from the ashes of my groin. It invaded my nose and refused to leave.

The sewer washed me out into the sea, where I drowned.

But I was woke up on the beach. I was still alive! That bastard Jim had given me some really gnarly acid. It had all been a bad trip. I fucking hate that guy.  Why did I ever start hanging out with Jim Belushi? BUT WAIT! The goat skeleton was beside me, doing CPR. It wasn’t a hallucination! IT WAS REAL!!!!!!!!

I’ve tried to put it all behind me, but I just can’t stop seeing those exploding rats! Now I have become a serial rat exploder.

And then a human skeletal structure stared at me with its hyper-realistic eye sockets.

I’m Jeff the Killler.

Fuck off.

The End.

Written by:






WE RULE!!!!!!!!

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