He, Dorkpool, and Inodmetus were on the bridge of the Cheese Doodle, and talking about Dorkpool’s recent findings.
“Yeah. Weird to think that something that produced the awesomeness that is me also produced the crap pile that is Jeff the Killer.” Dorkpool responded.
Both Mirror Dorkpool and Indometus internally groaned. Dorkpool’s cockiness and narcissism was getting on their nerves. However, there were more important things going on than a Shatner-sized ego.
“So what do we do with this information?” Indometus asked.
“Simple. We find Jeff, tell him what’s up, and try to see if we can’t fix him.” Dorkpool responded.
“Yeah. Dose him with heavy anti-psychotics, and see what that does.”
Indometus and Mirror Dorkpool stared at Dorkpool in a way that showed that they questioned his sanity.
“What?” Dorkpool asked.
“That’s kind of stupid.” Mirror Dorkpool responded.
“Not really. We do this, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll be a more tolerable human being.”
“Yeah, but he could also escape and be a huge problem.”
“Ok. We put him in the brig.”
“Ok, we knock him unconscious, transport him to the brig, and constantly dose him with sedatives.”
Mirror Dorkpool was about to respond, but then realized he didn’t really have much of an argument. Honestly, it might work. But there was still something about all of this that made him uncomfortable.
He just had a bad feeling about what was to come.
Dorkpool: There’s some weird stories on the Internet.
Mirror: “Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life”?
Dorkpool: To name one. Also, today’s story, “Grandma Melinda”, is also very strange.
Mirror: So is that story with Jeff the Killer getting Slender Man’s powers. Aren’t we supposed to be Riffing the next part of the series?
Dorkpool: Erm…anyway, let’s obsess over a lizard and Riff this bitch!
One day, while out in her garden, Mrs. Melinda Cosgrove
Dorkpool: No relation to Miranda.
happened upon a strange little white creature, which appeared to have a gash on its tail. She took it in, put a little guaze wrapping on its tail, and kept it in a cardboard box.
Mirror: (Narrator): However, she forgot to put air holes in the box.
Her husband, Edgar, was none too pleased with this.
"What is it with you and bringing filthy animals into this house, Melinda?! First it was that damn cat, and now this...this lizard thing!"
Dorkpool: (Edgar): You damn women and your animals! Back in my day, we had the flu and malaria, and we were happy!
"Oh Edgar, I'm only taking care of it till it gets back on its feet. Then I'll let it right back outside."
"I hope so. Cuz I sure as hell don't wanna catch what that thing's got!"
Mirror: (Melinda): But I thought you liked the flu and malaria.
The six-legged, pink-eyed creature uttered a loud, high-pitched squeal in Edgar's direction, as though insulted. Edgar visibly flinched.
"Now Jeff, don't be so rude."
Dorkpool: Oh no, it’s Jeff the Killer! We have to get out of here!
The creature curled up into a corner of the box, still keeping an evil eye on Edgar.
"That's his name. He told me."
"Melinda, lizards can't talk."
Mirror: He just dissed Curt Connors.
"You'd be surprised."
Over the next few weeks, Melinda seemed to become a bit TOO attached to "Jeff", their new tenant. She had moved it from a cardboard box to Edgar's steamer trunk-the one his father had given him!-and began treating it like royalty.
Dorkpool: And I thought crazy cat ladies were bad enough…
It didn't seem so bad at first when she just took it out to let the grandkids look at it and let it watch TV with her, but soon it was following her into the bathroom, it begged for scraps from the table, and he swore he saw it slip under her pillow a couple times.
Mirror: You know your sex life sucks when your wife sleeps with a lizard instead of you.
And now, instead of just feeding it mealworms and crickets, she was COOKING for the thing! Actual little three-course meals! This was getting out of hand.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): She needs some hard psychotropic medication.
Edgar burst into the sunroom, where Melinda was stroking Jeff and listening to "Spring" from Vivaldi's The Four Seasons on her CD player.
"Melinda, I've had it! You're treating that mop-topped gecko better than you've ever treated me in 38 years, YOU BITCH!"
Mirror: (Melinda): Yeah, well at least Jeff can get an erection!
Jeff screamed again, and raised its tail. Edgar paid no attention to this.
"I MEAN IT! EITHER THAT THING GOES, OR I DO!"
Mirror: He’s dead.
The next day...
"Now kids, remember we'll be back in 5 hours to pick you up. And please, don't argue with Grandpa Edgar again. You know you grouchy he can get."
Dorkpool: (Mother): Especially when he’s off his medication.
"We won't," said Elliott and Maureen in unison.
"OK, have fun with Grandma."
The two children entered the house. Almost immediately, Grandma Melinda greeted them. There was something very...off about her appearance.
Mirror: (Narrator): She was wearing a bra over her eyes.
Her hair was an absolute rat's nest, her skin was very pale, there were black bags around her eyes. Jeff, wearing the satin bow-tie she had made for him and sitting on her shoulder as usual, didn't seem a bit fazed by this.
Dorkpool: Oh, please. Doomsayer, show this story how it’s done!
Mirror: …You know Doomsayer’s dead, right?
Dorkpool: Oh, right. Awkward.
*buzz* I aM sO gLaD tO sEe yOu. *click*"
"G-grandma? Are you...feelin' all right?" asked Maureen.
Mirror: Well, obviously she’s all right. I mean, she’s talking like Doomsayer and making weird noises. Totally normal.
"i aM fInE. *click* *buzz* wOUlD yOu lIkE sOmeThing tO drInK? *buzz*"
"N-no thanks..." said Eliott.
Dorkpool: (Melinda): Are you sure? It’s totally not drugged.
There was a "ding" sound coming from the kitchen.
"oH, tHe *buzz* cAsSerOle iS dOnE. wAiT a mInUte."
Grandma walked away. Elliot swore he could see something poking out of the back of her dress near her shoulders. Two tiny, pointed, blade-like, shiny objects, that looked almost like...naw, it couldn't be.
"Elliot, why does grandma have wings?"
Mirror: (Elliot): Because she’s an angel now.
"You saw it too?"
"Shhh, here she comes. Act casual."
Dorkpool: (Maureen): Hi, grandma! How are your wings?
Grandma came back around, toting a huge covered casserole with what looked like tomato sauce dripping down the sides. It emanated an unholy stench.
Mirror: If “Batman and Robin” had a smell, it’d probably be that one.
The two children held their noses, clenched their eyes shut, and coughed.
"Ewww! What is that stuff, Grandma?! It smells GROSS!" said Eliott.
Dorkpool: (Melinda): Your Xbox! Happy birthday, kids!
"It'zzzz my sPeCiAl *buzz* sUrpRriSe! *click*" Melinda uncovered the casserole. "*buzz* DiG iN!"
The kids opened their eyes to see what the "surprise" was, and practically screamed their heads off.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): In the casserole was…Shia LeBouf.
It sure was a surprise, all right.
Grandma was serving them what was left of Grandpa Edgar.
Mirror: Remember, kids: if your wife obsesses over a lizard named Jeff, just back away slowly and call the mental hospital.
Dorkpool: This story is weird, and not very good.
Mirror: The big problem with this story is Miranda. Very little about her is explained. Why is she obsessing over the lizard? Why is it named Jeff? And why is she talking in the Doomsayer voice and buzzing and beeping? Also, what’s with the lizard? Does it have telepathic powers or something? These things really need to be explained.
Dorkpool: There are some good things. The concept itself – a woman obsessing over an animal to the point where she kills and cooks her husband – isn’t a bad one, but it really needed to be handled better. The spelling and grammar are actually pretty good (with the exception of the Doomsayer voice; seriously, what even the fuck?), and the story is mercifully short. While this isn’t the worst story that’s been Riffed here, it still isn’t very good. But that’s what we think. What do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish we’d be killed by a crazy lizard lady? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.
The killer had just finished taking the life of yet another person. It wasn’t much of a problem; the victim seemed to be someone who had never been in a fight in his life. The killer made sure he never would be in another.
After doing so, he searched for more prey, and found some. Three men; one obviously the leader, with two who seemed to be cronies. One was large, the other rail thin.
This seemed familiar to the killer, and stirred up memories in him. He’d killed people like this before. Long ago.
But those memories felt…fake. Almost dream-like.
Other memories decided to show themselves. Memories of knives and being cut and liquids being pumped into him, and pain. So much pain.
And those memories…they felt real.
Doubt started surfacing. What was real, and what wasn’t?
Who was he really? He was a killer, but why? Was it a psychotic break, like he remembered in those dream-like memories, or was it something else?
He decided to leave the three men alive for now, and went to find somewhere to sit alone, and sort out his thoughts.