It started on day like any other, except for part where it wasn't. I was eating out with my friends at KGC, short for the beloved Kentucky Grilled Chicken, when I had a horrifying realization. THERE WAS NO MASHED POTATOES IN MY GRAVY! I turned to tell my friends about this, but I had no friends, only gravy.
I reached for my phone, but I only heard a squish because I had no phone, only gravy. I rushed to the counter in the hopes that one of the employees had a phone but I could only find puddles of gravy. I ran out of the KGC as fast as I could, glancing back to see as it's wall collapsed into a puddle of gravy.
I got in my car and drove gunned it home because there were no cops, only gravy. I got on my laptop to tell the world my story, but I found that I could only type the word "gravy." The subsequent tale would have become a New York Times Bestseller, but there is no New York, only gravy.
It wasn't long until the tapping of my vain typing turned into squishing as the laptop melted into gravy. My house was beginning to turn as well, so I once more ran to my car and drove away. It only took few minutes before I realized my car was sinking into the ground.
I looked out the window only to see an unending sea of gravy. I vainly tried to push open the door only to find my self elbow deep in gravy. As I began sinking in the gravy I realized the blinding truth of the situation. I was the mashed potatoes all along, as are we all drifting in the gravy that is life.
YOU ARE READING
The Gravy Pasta
Short StoryThe graviest horror story ever typed, be prepared to be wowed by my crappy ~(cough)~ I mean creepy pasta. Gravy gravy gravy... GRAVY!!!!!!!!!!1! [Co-written by Adam Crawford & Whitetail]
