Post by Skill Flea on Jun 27, 2016 20:49:54 GMT -6
Hi everyone, this is xxSkillzFleaxx here! I've written three "incredible" stories as part of an ongoing series that I am now calling Dad Cop. At this time, they include Super Hyper Realistic Smoke, TwoInterviewees.exe, and recently A Few Complaints©. If I feel inspired or wasted, I may update this post should a new one be made. Here are the current stories so far in order. (Note: In case you couldn't figure it out, these stories are a fucking blight against humanity.)
Super Hyper-Realistic Smoke
I turned to my partner and saw hyper-realistic smoke coming out of his mouth! He did this every day on the force, blowing it in my face. He died of lung cancer ...
30 years later.
After the funeral I was walking in the dark forest outside of muy house when I saw it. A blood-red NES cartridge laying there in the middle of the woods. I jumped back in horor at its presence. The words rang out so clearly:
"Smoking Simulator".
I took it home. It was a sign. From my dead partner - this is his work.
I popped it in to my son's NES. He complained about me using his NES so I beat his ass. This was 4 my partner!!
When I turned on the NES, the NES began to vomit out hyper-realistic vomit! My son screamed, so I had to hit him again.
The game continued to play on my TV and despite the mountain of vomit spewing everywhere. The sound was unbearable!! The hyper-realistic vomit was turning into hyper-realistic blood -I couldn't handle it anymore.
I had to turn off the game.
As I hit the power button,one final message played on the screen.
There was my partner's face crying hyper-realistic blood. With the words underneath in blood:
"Smoking Killz"
TwoInterviewees.exe
(Note: this is a followup of "Super Hyper-Realistic Smoking" toospooky.com/index.php?topic=73.0. It is recommended you are familiar with the original story before continuing – you fucking morons)
After my partner died from smoking, I was alone a lot of nights. The cold, cool refreshing taste of a Bud Light hit the back of my throat one night as I reflected on what my life had become. I was forced to retire from the force, I guess they don’t take to kindly to the excuse “he died in a Nintendo game”. My wife had also left me with my fucking son but that’s not why I am here. The reason I’m still alive is because of that game. That accursed game. That unholy abomination:
“Ask me what it means” by Mauro Vanetti.
Now my son was messing around with a bunch of these chucklefucks on this website called Gamejolt. Being the tough ex-cop that doesn’t play by the rules, I had asked him to go outside. He didn’t want to so I had to … eh, you know the rest. After his sobbing ass went outside, I decided to look at his computer. Yeah, so what if I was bored and had an alternative motive?
I saw that he had downloaded and opened up this game called “Listen to me, I’m profound!” By Mauro Vanetti. The strange thing was that the name of the file was called “TwoInterviewees.exe” which made no sense to me. I mean if the file was called TwoInterviewees.exe, than why did the title screen clearly say “Look how subtle I am!” by Mauro Vanetti?
I hit the start button and began playing “The Vagina Monologue” by Mauro Vanetti. The first image that pop on the screen made me jump back in fright!!
Now, listen. Listen real good. Even with my own limited experience with the haunted game “Smoking Simulator”, I understand how to spot a haunted game. This time I was prepared. Now look, if you don’t want to have nightmares stop reading now!! Your psyche may be broken just by viewing this image. So I’m warning you guys now to turn back while you still can!!
Ok then. Prepare yourselves.
When I hit the start button two people appeared on the screen. One a man and one a woman.
I swear on my badge that neither of them had faces. I even took a screen shot so that people will believe me this time:
*insert screenshot here8
It was so creepy.
Now I was hooked. A game took my partner from me and now I had a chance for revenge. I decided to commit to playing through the whole game. For my partner’s eternal rest, “Beaver Fever” by Mauro Vanetti was going to pay.
The gameplay was incredibly easy and I beat in the game after a few attempts. The premise is simple, you play as the two disturbing faceless characters and make the same decisions for them. Most people can’t spot what the game was trying to do here. Luckily, as a detective, I knew how to crack this case like so many others. It was so obvious! The game was trying to say that two interviewees for the same job can’t get that same job!1 Well of course, its only one job, I mean what did the developer expect? That two people can coexist within the same space? Ugh … idiot.
Eventually, I successfully got the man the job and beat “Did you know women can’t get jobs” by Mauro Vanetti! I was victorious!! My partner could now rest in peace! And as I went into the files to delete this thing I knew that I had conquered my greatest fears! Until I realized something as the final file was deleted. I never got the girl the job. What happened? Why couldn’t she get hired!?
Then, I felt a presence near me. All I can remember before blacking out was a soft voice whisper something into my right ear.
“Ask me what it means.”
A Few Complaints©
I’m still the same old retired police officer. And I got to tell you, it’s boring as fuck. My hand is actually starting to hurt from all the beatings I give my dick of a son and even getting piss drunk at the local church has started to not give me that same feeling of satisfaction. The truth is, I’m bored as fuck.
So I decided to go back into my old memories and try to find some nostalgia from my days on the force. I shed some joyful man tears when I saw pictures of my old partner. I was so happy to see him and hadn’t cried this hard since the last Trump rally.
Then I took out this giant box that was sealed tightly with packing tape. The message on the box was written very cruelly in comic sans:
“OFFICE COMPLAINTS”
“That’s right!” I thought to myself as I began to laugh at this box.
For some reason a lot of the other officers hated me while I was a cop. When this happened, I would naturally try to get them fired. My reasoning was that anyone who disliked someone as patriotic as myself could only be a spy for the Mexican government. The point is, I needed to get on good terms with the chief in order to get these fake cops to go back over the border. He loved me and I hated his cats. He’d make me go over there when he was out of town to feed them and shit. It was awful but I did it for America.
In any case, the chief put me in charge of the office complaints. Aside from cops and dicktectives, we had normal people come into the office to do office work. Accountants, tech guys, and all those other cubicle faggots circle-jerking around our solitude of justice. They and anyone working in the precinct could fill out an office complaint form if they were triggered in some way. Of course, I never read them and would report to the chief with a box filled with my own complaints. Sometimes hundreds of them by the end of the week. That’s how I was able to get so many people fired and give the middle finger to their stupid Mexican country. But I always took the real complaints home with me and put them in a box. Kind of like a trophy of my success.
But I was bored and read through thousands of these things that were written in a span of at least two decades. I decided to post some of them for you dickweeds sitting there reading this garbage.
COMPLAINT: The donuts keep disappearing from the break room. If the cops don’t have their donuts and coffee it could cause “police brutality”. Especially for Dad Cop.
COMPLAINT: How do we get conformation with the complaints? None of mine have been answered.
COMPLAINT: Since nobody is actually looking into this box, a few officers said they were going to put some really stupid shit in it to see if it gets a response.
COMPLAINT: Frank is cheating on his wife when he thinks I'm not watching. Please do something about this immediately.
COMPLAINT: Too many brothers in the holding cells. What the hell is up with Dad Cop!
COMPLAINT: Three punk ass kids with weapons were beat up at a birthday party. Apparently all the parents just watched and helped some teen after he was set on fire. I’m too old for this shit.
COMPLAINT: Dad Cop is a menace. He needs to be fired.
COMPLAINT: Why the fuck do we keep getting 911 calls about Disney! Peopl need to be more creative.
COMPLAINT: The Yankees lost last week and Gary isn’t paying up. I want my $30!
COMPLAINT: I arrested this guy for having a ton of illegal pornography. He keeps saying it was advertised as “Normal”. Please book him in cell 8-D.
COMPLAINT: This is a robbery!
COMPLAINT: Frank is now cheating on my wife. I like watching and hate sitting there in my filth.
COMPLAINT: Someone on the force has a sick sense of humor. At a closed off crime scene, someone carved words into the trunk of an oak tree where three artists hung themselves. It read “Artist Tree”.
COMPLAINT: WE CAN’T JUST RELEASE LIU! IT WOULD MAKE THE STORY TOO CRINGY! OH GAWD WHAT HAVE Y0U DONe!!
COMPLAINT: Who the hell authorized the Boy Scouts to come in here for a community service project? Frank is giving them looks and it’s weird.
COMPLAINT: Vincent tried to sell me a skull for $6,000. I don’t know where he got it but I need backup NOW!
COMPLAINT: No! I’m serious! This is a robbery! why wouldn’t anyone get on the fucking ground!
COMPLAINT: Frank’s office smells like Boy Scouts! DEAR GOD WHY!
COMPLAINT: Some idiot came in here to report a costume freak try to rip his own head off. I beat his ass and told him to leave. Please arrest the fucker if anyone sees him again.
COMPLAINT: Seriously, Dad Cop needs to be fired. Whoever reads though these things is not doing their job.
COMPLAINT: HA LIU IS DEAD NOW! TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE!
COMPLAINT: The woman in the holding cell B-3 complained about the lack of taste with her lunch. Dad Cop just beat her ass an d calls her dead pallet.
COMPLAINT: Kaela knows who I am! Someone call the police!!
COMPLAINT: My Penpal stopped writing. Can I have another?
COMPLAINT: The Girl Scouts are now coming. HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING!
COMPLAINT: What do I do if the chief is hitting on me?
COMPLAINT: Dad Cop called me a slutty McButt and then slapped my backside. I’d complain to HR is they weren’t so lazy.
COMPLAINT: dunkin donuts is NOT Krispy Kreme! Get your shit together there are lives at stake here!!
COMPLAINT: The old man in holding cell M-C keeps rattling the holding cell bars with his cane. Get him to stop I can’t work!
COMPLAINT: Hi, I’m a registered sex offender.
COMPLAINT: Dad Cop’s son came to the precinct and I punched him in the face. I can’t explain it but seeing this kid makes everyone here really irate. Please ban him from all offices.
COMPLAINT: The copy machine is acting up again. Also who put me on all the wanted posters again?
COMPLAINT: I ran into this teenager with hyper realistic blood dripping out of his eyes and mouth. He had a knife and told me it was time to sleep. I shot him. My job here is too boring can I transfer?
COMPLAINT: Frank came in with this stupid video game and now plays it all day. Some sort of simulator game for the NES. He’s addicted and isn’t doing his work.
COMPLAINT: Serious question here. Why are you still reading this? I mean sure, you have a box filled with complaints and it may seem interesting to you but I wanted to ask you why. Why you thought reading this post randomly written by someone else would be necessary. Get a life! Otherwise you are going to be spending all your time on online forums and chat rooms.
COMPLAINT: Seriously stop reading.
COMPLAINT: Seriously stop it.
COMPLAINT: These Girl Scouts taste great.
Super Hyper-Realistic Smoke
I turned to my partner and saw hyper-realistic smoke coming out of his mouth! He did this every day on the force, blowing it in my face. He died of lung cancer ...
30 years later.
After the funeral I was walking in the dark forest outside of muy house when I saw it. A blood-red NES cartridge laying there in the middle of the woods. I jumped back in horor at its presence. The words rang out so clearly:
"Smoking Simulator".
I took it home. It was a sign. From my dead partner - this is his work.
I popped it in to my son's NES. He complained about me using his NES so I beat his ass. This was 4 my partner!!
When I turned on the NES, the NES began to vomit out hyper-realistic vomit! My son screamed, so I had to hit him again.
The game continued to play on my TV and despite the mountain of vomit spewing everywhere. The sound was unbearable!! The hyper-realistic vomit was turning into hyper-realistic blood -I couldn't handle it anymore.
I had to turn off the game.
As I hit the power button,one final message played on the screen.
There was my partner's face crying hyper-realistic blood. With the words underneath in blood:
"Smoking Killz"
TwoInterviewees.exe
(Note: this is a followup of "Super Hyper-Realistic Smoking" toospooky.com/index.php?topic=73.0. It is recommended you are familiar with the original story before continuing – you fucking morons)
After my partner died from smoking, I was alone a lot of nights. The cold, cool refreshing taste of a Bud Light hit the back of my throat one night as I reflected on what my life had become. I was forced to retire from the force, I guess they don’t take to kindly to the excuse “he died in a Nintendo game”. My wife had also left me with my fucking son but that’s not why I am here. The reason I’m still alive is because of that game. That accursed game. That unholy abomination:
“Ask me what it means” by Mauro Vanetti.
Now my son was messing around with a bunch of these chucklefucks on this website called Gamejolt. Being the tough ex-cop that doesn’t play by the rules, I had asked him to go outside. He didn’t want to so I had to … eh, you know the rest. After his sobbing ass went outside, I decided to look at his computer. Yeah, so what if I was bored and had an alternative motive?
I saw that he had downloaded and opened up this game called “Listen to me, I’m profound!” By Mauro Vanetti. The strange thing was that the name of the file was called “TwoInterviewees.exe” which made no sense to me. I mean if the file was called TwoInterviewees.exe, than why did the title screen clearly say “Look how subtle I am!” by Mauro Vanetti?
I hit the start button and began playing “The Vagina Monologue” by Mauro Vanetti. The first image that pop on the screen made me jump back in fright!!
Now, listen. Listen real good. Even with my own limited experience with the haunted game “Smoking Simulator”, I understand how to spot a haunted game. This time I was prepared. Now look, if you don’t want to have nightmares stop reading now!! Your psyche may be broken just by viewing this image. So I’m warning you guys now to turn back while you still can!!
Ok then. Prepare yourselves.
When I hit the start button two people appeared on the screen. One a man and one a woman.
I swear on my badge that neither of them had faces. I even took a screen shot so that people will believe me this time:
*insert screenshot here8
It was so creepy.
Now I was hooked. A game took my partner from me and now I had a chance for revenge. I decided to commit to playing through the whole game. For my partner’s eternal rest, “Beaver Fever” by Mauro Vanetti was going to pay.
The gameplay was incredibly easy and I beat in the game after a few attempts. The premise is simple, you play as the two disturbing faceless characters and make the same decisions for them. Most people can’t spot what the game was trying to do here. Luckily, as a detective, I knew how to crack this case like so many others. It was so obvious! The game was trying to say that two interviewees for the same job can’t get that same job!1 Well of course, its only one job, I mean what did the developer expect? That two people can coexist within the same space? Ugh … idiot.
Eventually, I successfully got the man the job and beat “Did you know women can’t get jobs” by Mauro Vanetti! I was victorious!! My partner could now rest in peace! And as I went into the files to delete this thing I knew that I had conquered my greatest fears! Until I realized something as the final file was deleted. I never got the girl the job. What happened? Why couldn’t she get hired!?
Then, I felt a presence near me. All I can remember before blacking out was a soft voice whisper something into my right ear.
“Ask me what it means.”
A Few Complaints©
I’m still the same old retired police officer. And I got to tell you, it’s boring as fuck. My hand is actually starting to hurt from all the beatings I give my dick of a son and even getting piss drunk at the local church has started to not give me that same feeling of satisfaction. The truth is, I’m bored as fuck.
So I decided to go back into my old memories and try to find some nostalgia from my days on the force. I shed some joyful man tears when I saw pictures of my old partner. I was so happy to see him and hadn’t cried this hard since the last Trump rally.
Then I took out this giant box that was sealed tightly with packing tape. The message on the box was written very cruelly in comic sans:
“OFFICE COMPLAINTS”
“That’s right!” I thought to myself as I began to laugh at this box.
For some reason a lot of the other officers hated me while I was a cop. When this happened, I would naturally try to get them fired. My reasoning was that anyone who disliked someone as patriotic as myself could only be a spy for the Mexican government. The point is, I needed to get on good terms with the chief in order to get these fake cops to go back over the border. He loved me and I hated his cats. He’d make me go over there when he was out of town to feed them and shit. It was awful but I did it for America.
In any case, the chief put me in charge of the office complaints. Aside from cops and dicktectives, we had normal people come into the office to do office work. Accountants, tech guys, and all those other cubicle faggots circle-jerking around our solitude of justice. They and anyone working in the precinct could fill out an office complaint form if they were triggered in some way. Of course, I never read them and would report to the chief with a box filled with my own complaints. Sometimes hundreds of them by the end of the week. That’s how I was able to get so many people fired and give the middle finger to their stupid Mexican country. But I always took the real complaints home with me and put them in a box. Kind of like a trophy of my success.
But I was bored and read through thousands of these things that were written in a span of at least two decades. I decided to post some of them for you dickweeds sitting there reading this garbage.
COMPLAINT: The donuts keep disappearing from the break room. If the cops don’t have their donuts and coffee it could cause “police brutality”. Especially for Dad Cop.
COMPLAINT: How do we get conformation with the complaints? None of mine have been answered.
COMPLAINT: Since nobody is actually looking into this box, a few officers said they were going to put some really stupid shit in it to see if it gets a response.
COMPLAINT: Frank is cheating on his wife when he thinks I'm not watching. Please do something about this immediately.
COMPLAINT: Too many brothers in the holding cells. What the hell is up with Dad Cop!
COMPLAINT: Three punk ass kids with weapons were beat up at a birthday party. Apparently all the parents just watched and helped some teen after he was set on fire. I’m too old for this shit.
COMPLAINT: Dad Cop is a menace. He needs to be fired.
COMPLAINT: Why the fuck do we keep getting 911 calls about Disney! Peopl need to be more creative.
COMPLAINT: The Yankees lost last week and Gary isn’t paying up. I want my $30!
COMPLAINT: I arrested this guy for having a ton of illegal pornography. He keeps saying it was advertised as “Normal”. Please book him in cell 8-D.
COMPLAINT: This is a robbery!
COMPLAINT: Frank is now cheating on my wife. I like watching and hate sitting there in my filth.
COMPLAINT: Someone on the force has a sick sense of humor. At a closed off crime scene, someone carved words into the trunk of an oak tree where three artists hung themselves. It read “Artist Tree”.
COMPLAINT: WE CAN’T JUST RELEASE LIU! IT WOULD MAKE THE STORY TOO CRINGY! OH GAWD WHAT HAVE Y0U DONe!!
COMPLAINT: Who the hell authorized the Boy Scouts to come in here for a community service project? Frank is giving them looks and it’s weird.
COMPLAINT: Vincent tried to sell me a skull for $6,000. I don’t know where he got it but I need backup NOW!
COMPLAINT: No! I’m serious! This is a robbery! why wouldn’t anyone get on the fucking ground!
COMPLAINT: Frank’s office smells like Boy Scouts! DEAR GOD WHY!
COMPLAINT: Some idiot came in here to report a costume freak try to rip his own head off. I beat his ass and told him to leave. Please arrest the fucker if anyone sees him again.
COMPLAINT: Seriously, Dad Cop needs to be fired. Whoever reads though these things is not doing their job.
COMPLAINT: HA LIU IS DEAD NOW! TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE!
COMPLAINT: The woman in the holding cell B-3 complained about the lack of taste with her lunch. Dad Cop just beat her ass an d calls her dead pallet.
COMPLAINT: Kaela knows who I am! Someone call the police!!
COMPLAINT: My Penpal stopped writing. Can I have another?
COMPLAINT: The Girl Scouts are now coming. HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING!
COMPLAINT: What do I do if the chief is hitting on me?
COMPLAINT: Dad Cop called me a slutty McButt and then slapped my backside. I’d complain to HR is they weren’t so lazy.
COMPLAINT: dunkin donuts is NOT Krispy Kreme! Get your shit together there are lives at stake here!!
COMPLAINT: The old man in holding cell M-C keeps rattling the holding cell bars with his cane. Get him to stop I can’t work!
COMPLAINT: Hi, I’m a registered sex offender.
COMPLAINT: Dad Cop’s son came to the precinct and I punched him in the face. I can’t explain it but seeing this kid makes everyone here really irate. Please ban him from all offices.
COMPLAINT: The copy machine is acting up again. Also who put me on all the wanted posters again?
COMPLAINT: I ran into this teenager with hyper realistic blood dripping out of his eyes and mouth. He had a knife and told me it was time to sleep. I shot him. My job here is too boring can I transfer?
COMPLAINT: Frank came in with this stupid video game and now plays it all day. Some sort of simulator game for the NES. He’s addicted and isn’t doing his work.
COMPLAINT: Serious question here. Why are you still reading this? I mean sure, you have a box filled with complaints and it may seem interesting to you but I wanted to ask you why. Why you thought reading this post randomly written by someone else would be necessary. Get a life! Otherwise you are going to be spending all your time on online forums and chat rooms.
COMPLAINT: Seriously stop reading.
COMPLAINT: Seriously stop it.
COMPLAINT: These Girl Scouts taste great.
