COCK BLOOD! | CREEPYPASTA CRACKFIC

OK AND? YOU'RE NOT A CATBOY SO STFU

I carelessly strolled through the hallways of the motel with a shirt full of unhealthy snacks. Ignoring several people walking out of their rooms to see what the fuck was the loud BANG from, I suddenly remembered my previous intentions with the help of Juan.

Juan: GET THE FUCK BACK PEOPLE ARE STARTING TO WAKE UP YOU'RE GONNA GET CAUGHT BY NOT ONLY SLENDER MAN BUT THE POLICE TOO

Francis: I did not have to be extra and take out a glock but idk it was calling me

Juan: THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT FRANCIS YOU WHORE 

I then decided to haul my ass over to the room, crying whenever some of my snacks dropped on the ground. Fuck I think my Oreos are gone...

'so long comrade'

I solemnly thought before bursting into the door. Toby's faint figure under the sheets didn't move as I threw the stolen snacks onto the bed. I opened a chocolate granola bar I had in my hand as I see Toby shuffle and throw his covers off. He sits up, looks around, looks at the snacks, then squints over to me,

"Wha--what time is it...?"

I check my watch while munching on the stale oats,

"6:15"

Tik tok lets out a tired groan before sighing deeply and yawning. He picks up a bag of Fritos and lazily opens it as his gaze lands back on me,

"So why--why'd you w..wake up early anyways?"

His voice is rasp and he's still dazed from sleepiness, but his stutter was still evident. I sighed while fiddling in my spot, staring blankly at his hunched figure. "Didn't sleep," I announced, voice drained from emotion. Not like I noticed anyways, I was too busy absentmindedly pacing around the room thinking about sunflowers.

I noticed Toby's weirded out expression, but I paid no mind. I continued munching on my half-eaten granola bar. Suddenly, he abruptly hits his forehead, causing a loud smack to ring in my eyes. He softly cursed, probably one of his physical tics. I look back at him and see him crumpling up the empty chip bag,

"How come?"

He casually stated, no actual worried detected. I threw my own empty wrapper somewhere on the floor and rose a brow. Although I knew nobody gave a shit about me or my condition, I never had anyone actually seem somewhat interested in my trivial problems. At least, I thought it was trivial.

'bitches hate me. Me, I'm bitches."

Juan: me too

Francis: amen

I hummed, "Well, I have really bad nightmares and shit. Umm, I was always a lucid dreamer even as a kid so it was wicked cool at first but now that y'all fucked me up like a goddamn pinata, beating me mentally and physically, the nightmares I get is like worse and since I'm still a certified fucking lucid dreamer I can't control shit and end up reliving constant pain and misery."

I frown recalling several nightmares before shaking my head. I stare at Toby who kinda looks like he felt bad, but I think I'm tripping. Suddenly, a lightbulb appeared in my head and I remembered why I came here for,

"Oh yeah, Jeff is also in the motel with us."

"What."

-

-

Toby mutters a plethora of no no words while running away from the motel we exited from. Meanwhile, he attempts to shove the remaining clothes he failed to put away while I trail behind and eventually help my homie out.