State Stuff
  • Reads 59,463
  • Votes 1,063
  • Parts 66
  • Time 1h 26m
  • Reads 59,463
  • Votes 1,063
  • Parts 66
  • Time 1h 26m
Complete, First published May 27, 2019
"It's not a phase, pa!!! THIS IS WHO I AM!!!" 

"Who TF be treading on my land?!" 

"And Peg--" 
"STFU NEW YORK!!!" 

Cramming fifty people into existence is pretty difficult for USA, but the fact those fifty people are states is.... Well....

"SUCK MY ATOMIC BOMB!!!" 

...chaotic...
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Craig of the Dead by Its_Me_Tweek_Tweak
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Hey, you! Yeah, you. Listen up, dude, because I don't have much time. Actually, I have a ton of time, I just don't feel like repeating myself. South Park is infested with zombies. Yeah, you heard me right. Shuffling around, undead, want to eat you zombies. I'm stuck as some kind of leader of a tiny crew of kids. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but everyone else seems to think I do, so I guess we're going with that. In a few days the whole town went from being kinda nuts to completely chaotic. Why do people think I'm a good leader? Why'd all the adults leave? Where's literally half of my grade, they can't all be dead, can they? Why are we not allowed to leave South Park? Do they want us die? How long can we keep on living like this? Most importantly, why couldn't I have just gone with Tweek to the stupid bathroom? Now he's M.I.A. and it's my fault. Anyway, I hope maybe you can find some pleasure in reading this. I mean, I would probably get bored, but whatever floats your boat, dude. Gotta run. Clyde's throwing another fit because someone ate his Hot Pocket (Spoiler Alert, it was me). See ya later, stranger. -Craig **NOTE: the story is not written as journal entries by Craig, I just thought it would be a fun little bit to put as the hook. Apologies if it is misleading.** **ALSO NOTE: the mature content warning is for language, and language only. Well, and I suppose gore and violence, but that depends on what you define as gore and violence**
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{COMPLETED} "now that you've had your fun electrocuting me, would you care to hop in the backseat?" ---------------------------------------------------------- Freak DNA. That's what I like to call it. The fault to my genetic code. More often than not, it's a curse. The static running through my blood gave me a name. A cruel, daunting label of a measly bug. A roach. That's what I am to them, to the government. Roach; the nameless monster with electricity for a sense and lightening as a second nature. It ruined my life, the sparking currents playing tag in my mind, running around and bumping into everything, shaking me loose. The government, actually. They ruined my life. My curse just gave them a reason. You see, the normal population with ordinary DNA, they don't know about the people like me. The roaches of the world. We don't get that kind of recognition at the camps. There, we are only one thing in the military's eyes. We are weapons and we will act like it. Everyone else out there, bathing in the goodness they don't know they've got, they don't know about the roaches their stepping on. As long as their getting closer to the sky, they don't care what they stand on to reach it. They don't know about the sparkling dreamer that's killed 7 people before her 17th birthday. They don't about the ghost of a girl peaking around corners for her entire life because even home wasn't safe. They don't know about the fighter of steel and iron sucking on his bloody lip courtesy of the wars he battles in as nothing but a shadow. They don't know about the masked villain who would do anything to see the army they lead claim the throne They don't know about us. But they will, because we will rise. And when we arrive, we will arrive violently. ___________________________________________ Started: 10.06.15 Finished: 3.17.16
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Craig of the Dead

47 parts Complete Mature

Hey, you! Yeah, you. Listen up, dude, because I don't have much time. Actually, I have a ton of time, I just don't feel like repeating myself. South Park is infested with zombies. Yeah, you heard me right. Shuffling around, undead, want to eat you zombies. I'm stuck as some kind of leader of a tiny crew of kids. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but everyone else seems to think I do, so I guess we're going with that. In a few days the whole town went from being kinda nuts to completely chaotic. Why do people think I'm a good leader? Why'd all the adults leave? Where's literally half of my grade, they can't all be dead, can they? Why are we not allowed to leave South Park? Do they want us die? How long can we keep on living like this? Most importantly, why couldn't I have just gone with Tweek to the stupid bathroom? Now he's M.I.A. and it's my fault. Anyway, I hope maybe you can find some pleasure in reading this. I mean, I would probably get bored, but whatever floats your boat, dude. Gotta run. Clyde's throwing another fit because someone ate his Hot Pocket (Spoiler Alert, it was me). See ya later, stranger. -Craig **NOTE: the story is not written as journal entries by Craig, I just thought it would be a fun little bit to put as the hook. Apologies if it is misleading.** **ALSO NOTE: the mature content warning is for language, and language only. Well, and I suppose gore and violence, but that depends on what you define as gore and violence**