So now both sides were stuck in a stalemate. Zorax plotted his next move. Dorkpool did the same.
Suddenly, a message was transmitted to the Scythe from the Cheese Doodle. "Should I play it?" the communications officer of the Scythe asked. Zorax nodded.
On the viewscreen appeared Zorax’s mistake, Dorkpool, along with the others he had along: his reflection from an alternate universe, the catgirl that he is courting, and the traitor.
"Hiya, bonehead," Dorkpool said. "As you can see, we’ve got something of yours. You don’t have something of mine, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make a deal. We give you back this traitor, and you punish or reward him as you please, and you leave us alone. Everyone leaves happy. Well, maybe not Doomsayer if you punish him, but he’s an asshole, so I really don’t care."
Dorkpool paused, and then continued. "Of course, you could always say no. In that case, we can hold you off until reinforcements come, and we kick your ass. If we do, then since we’re in the Mutara Nebula, you better start quoting Moby Dick.
"Your choice, bonehead." The transmission ended. Zorax considered the deal. Everyone waited with baited breath for his response.
Dorkpool: You know, we haven’t really bitched about the Creepypasta Land Wiki in a while.
Mirror: Really? Go figure.
Dorkpool: Oh well. Let’s change that, shall we?
Mirror: Sure. What are we Riffing?
Dorkpool: A story called "Tix."
Mirror: This is going to be lovely.
Dorkpool: Yep. So let’s finger paint, and Riff this bitch.
Dorkpool: Random name.
A young girl, only at the age of seventeen (although her smaller height, 5" gave the impression that she was barely twelve), suffered with Avoidant personality disorder and Intermittent explosive disorder.
Mirror: As it turns out, these are actually real disorders. Avoidant Personality Disorder is basically a disorder in which the individual with the disorder is shy and has self-loathing problems. Intermittent Explosive Disorder is a disorder in which the individual with the disorder has frequent outbursts of rage and anger that are a bit much for the situation at hand.
Dorkpool: The more you know.
Even though she lived with her father (Joseph Irwin, he combination of both disorders (including the outrageous bursts of anger and fear or people) meant that she was doomed to solitary confinement, as set up by herself to prevent harm to her father.
Dorkpool: I can already tell that this is going to be a Jeff Formula story.
The only people being allowed too see her being the two psychologists that had worked with Tammy since her order was discovered, at the age of seven.
Suffering with APD had lead to Tammy picking up many nervous habits, including biting her nails down to the skin, picking at her skin and clawing at her own face. The scars that these had left, made her appearance far from the norm for a seventeen year old.
Mirror: The great thing about this story is how it ignores the real symptoms of these disorders, and makes up new ones to accommodate the Jeff Formula.
Once ivory skin was now torn, so that deep scars were dragged from her eyes to her chin, her lips were so pale and bitten, that they were barely there at all and her once soft hands were now red and rough, constantly bleeding.
Dorkpool: Well, at least that’ll make finger painting easier.
The psychologists, had of course, taped her hands to prevent this, but she would always find a way, usually gnawing at it, which only strengthened and sharpened her teeth.
Tammy was practically a mute, only making an odd clicking sound with her tongue, and tapping obsessively (except for the loud screaming that came along with an IED outburst). The IED also had increased the aggressive behavior, that had once been minor, but now meant that sedatives were being administrated from the moment the psychologists were in the room.
Mirror: Because it’s not restraints are a thing.
Little did they know that her body had adapted to the constant medication, the usual dose now not having any effect on the girl, which they had now named Tix (for her constant clicking).
Dorkpool: Wow, doctors are assholes.
As she aged, she grew progressively worse, to the point where she was to be transferred to an asylum.
Mirror: Well, if it’s Arkham, she won’t be there very long.
The idea, however, did not appeal to her. The two psychologists approached Tix, injecting her with the usual dose of sedative, then preparing her for removal. They were definitely shocked when the girl sprung to life, biting into the neck of the nearest.
Dorkpool: I guess she’s a vampire now. Hopefully she won’t sparkle.
Strangled chokes sounded as a warning for the other psychologist, who stood there, frozen with fear. The body dropped, Tix launching her small frame onto the other, and biting into his neck too. The blood swirled in her mouth, a warm and satisfying feeling enlightening her to the greatness of murderous ways.
Mirror: (Narrator): Murderous ways, and cannibalism.
The velvet liquid slid down her throat, an approving click being the only noise in the now empty room.
"Click click click, you better watch about for Tix"
Dorkpool: Silly writer, Tix are for kids!
Dorkpool: Not only does this story suck, it’s actually kind of offensive.
Mirror: Seriously. Mental illness is a real problem, and when schmucks like the writer of this story use it like this, it’s kind of offensive. It would be fine if the disorders were used, and had the correct symptoms. But when the author just makes up symptoms to fit the Jeff Formula, then it becomes offensive. And even if this story weren’t offensive, it’d still suck. It uses the Jeff Formula, and rather than do something new and original with it, it just creates a generic story. The characters aren’t at all developed, which makes it hard to know how you’re supposed to feel. Do we feel pity for Tix for having these disorders and a crappy life? Should we be scared because she’s a nutcase? I don’t know. I just feel anger.
Dorkpool: There are some good things. For a Jeff Formula story, the spelling and grammar are pretty good, and this story is pretty short, so we don’t have to deal with this crap for long. I have dealt with a lot of crap during the time I’ve been Riffing, but I think this is the first time I’ve read story that’s been kind of offensive. Now, we’re not saying that stories can’t have killers with mental disorders. What we’re saying is that if a story is going to have a killer with mental disorders, research said disorders and have the correct symptoms for them.
Anyway, that’s we think of this story. What do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish a vampire Jeff wannabe would kill us? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.
The Cheese Doodle received a transmission from the Scythe.
"I’ve considered your deal, and am willing to accept it, as long as some conditions of mine are met." Zorax said over the transmission. "You, Dorkpool, must come along with Doomsayer. Then I’ll accept your deal." The transmission ended.
Dorkpool looked at everyone on the bridge – Mirror Dorkpool, Indometus, and Doomsayer – and he knew what he had to do.
"I’ll be right back, guys," Dorkpool said. "I’ve got ass to kick, and names to take."
Indometus was the first to protest. "He’s going to kill you," she said.
"I’ve got a healing factor, which makes death kind of an impossibility. Besides, if I’m there, I’ll be close enough to kill the bastard."
"You’ll also be close enough to be captured and tortured," Mirror Dorkpool pointed out.
"I’m aware of that. But this is the best chance we have of finally bringing Zorax down. If I’m captured, or somehow die, I won’t mind, so long as Zorax goes with me."
Before anyone else could protest, Dorkpool said, "This is the way it has to be. He wants me, and he’s going to get me."
No one really liked the idea, but no one was really going to continue protesting. So, after the exchange of good-byes, good lucks, and a few kisses, Dorkpool and Doomsayer transported to the Scythe, where they were greeted by Zorax and quite a few guards.
"Here he is, all douchey and traitory for you," Dorkpool said, gesturing to Doomsayer.
"I see," Zorax said.
"Now leave us alone,"
"You think he has any worth or value to me?" Zorax asked. "He does not." With that, Zorax took out a sword with a vaguely flame shaped blade, and stuck it through Doomsayer. Doomsayer gasped, sputtered a few nonsensical words, and died quickly. Zorax pulled the blade out. "This blade has an interesting capability: it can kill anyone, healing factor or otherwise."
"Oh. Lovely," Dorkpool said. "So you’re going to kill me right now?"
Zorax laughed. "You are my biggest failure. You led a rebellion and escape against me, and got away with it. Killing you like this would be a hollow victory. That’s why I had most every alternate universe incarnation of you killed, either directly or indirectly by my hand. And now I’m going to fight you to the death," Zorax said, taking another sword from a guard and giving it to Dorkpool.
"I’m flattered that you went through so much effort to hurt me and basically erase my presence from all of reality, but I think you went a little overboard." Dorkpool said. "I mean, I think sending a copy of Batman and Robin to all incarnations of me would’ve been worse."
"I’m going to enjoy killing you and ripping out your tongue," Zorax said.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," Dorkpool said, right before Zorax lunged at him.
Dorkpool was many things – smartass, comedian, writer, Riffer, to name a few – but he wasn’t much of a sword fighter. However, he did know a few things, like how to not die, and how to piss off an enemy. And an angry enemy is a stupid enemy.
After blocking a swipe from Zorax, Dorkpool asked, "Do you and Darth Vader shop at the same place for armor? I mean, black armor and cape? I’m honestly expecting you to say that you’re my father,"
Zorax swung at him again. Dorkpool dodged it – narrowly – and decided to make another remark. "You know, I don’t think this was the best way to beat me, bonehead. Maybe you should’ve challenged me to a high-stakes game of basketball."
Another attack, another remark. "I have to ask, is your theme song "Spooky Scary Skeletons"?"
Attack. Remark. "Why the name ‘Zorax’? It reminds me of borax. Tell me, are you actually a hyper-evolved laundry product?"
The pattern kept repeating, much to Zorax’s chagrin. Zorax was many things – conqueror, a being who fought Death and won, planner, to name a few – but he wasn’t someone used to such back talk from an enemy. It strained on his patience, wearing it away. His attacks were clumsier, driven more by anger than skill. Finally, Zorax yelled, "Silence, you swine!" and lunged at Dorkpool. Dorkpool, thinking fast, got out the way, and stuck his sword through Zorax. Zorax looked down at the blade going through his stomach.
"Nah, I personally like talking, bonehead. And you know what I’d like to talk about? The fact that you’re truly, for realsies, honest-to-goodness, dead. And you’re going to stay dead. Yeah, sending Deadpool after me? Not a good idea, especially since I told him to tell Death to make sure you stay dead. Face it, you’re not coming back. And good riddance."
Dorkpool took the sword out of Zorax, causing the conqueror to fall the floor, in a pool of ever-expanding blood. Dorkpool wondered how a person who’s a skeleton could bleed, but didn’t think too much about it. He looked at the assembled soldiers who watched the battle, and asked, "You guys aren’t going to try killing me, are you?"
On the Cheese Doodle, Mirror Dorkpool and Inodmetus were prepared for the worst when they got the message from the Scythe. They were pleasantly surprised when they saw Dorkpool in the captain’s throne on the bridge of Zorax’s ship.
"Hiya, guys!" Dorkpool said.
"You beat him?" Mirror Dorkpool asked.
"Nah. He killed me, and decided to prop me up and make jokes in his chair." At the expressions on Mirror Dorkpool’s and Indometus’ faces, Dorkpool said, "I’m joking, of course. The power of smartassery once again saved the day, and I killed Zorax. And since he’s a cruel douche, his soldiers were pretty happy that he died. So now I’m kind of the de-facto ruler of his rather large empire. However, I don’t really want it. How about you, Mirror Me? You get his empire, and I don’t have to help you conquer this universe."
Mirror Dorkpool said, "That works. Besides, I feel more like Riffing than ruling."
"Thank the Preservers’ for that abrupt character change. I’m honestly pooped, and really don’t feel like helping taking over a universe."
"So when are you coming back?" Indometus asked.
Soon after, Dorkpool came arrived back on the Cheese Doodle, and was greeted by a hug from Indometus. "Never do anything like that again," Indometus said.
"What? It all worked out. And besides, hopefully there won’t be another story arc, so hopefully I won’t have to." Dorkpool said, laughing a bit. Indometus laughed too, not because of the fourth wall breaking, but out of relief.
Later, the three remaining members of the Cheese Doodle were talking to each other. Mirror Dorkpool was explaining that he left control of the empire in the hands of Mirror Poison for the time being.
"So…now what?" Indometus asked.
"I don’t know. I really don’t feel like thinking really far ahead. Honestly, I’d just like some Romulan Ale." Dorkpool answered.
"Same here," Mirror Dorkpool said.
"Alcohol sounds nice," Indometus said.
And on that note, all three of them went over to the bar of the Cheese Doodle, and got blitzed off their asses.