Dorkpool walked into his quarters, sat at his computer, cracked his knuckles, and prepared to write. He was going to write a Creepypasta, damn it (well, ok, he already had, but still), and it was going to be great.
Alright, first things first, he needed an idea. Something good. Something scary. Something that has potential. Like…a salad monster! Yeah, that works.
Wait, salad monster? Seriously? That sounds stupid as hell, actually. Screw that.
Let’s try this again. Alright, he needed a good idea.
Ok, how about a society in the arctic that worships a demonic god? Ok, yeah, that’s cool. And some researchers dig up a book, and it’s about –
Wait, wait, shit. That’s basically the “Tobit” series.
No, something unique and original, but not stupid.
Alright, how about a school with students that kick ass and fight monsters, with a mostly female led cast. Most every character is likable, and named after a color to some extent. Yeah, that’s it, that’s…
RWBY. That is literally RWBY.
There’s a knock on the door to Dorkpool’s quarters.
“What?” he snapped.
“Can I come in?” Mirror asked from behind the doors.
Huh. Mirror. After coming up with what is basically RWBY. Rather fitting actually.
“Sure, fine, but make it quick.” Dorkpool said.
“Indo and I were wondering if you want to watch a movie or something.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Dorkpool asked, gesturing to his computer.
Mirror took a look at it.
“All it says is, ‘Salad monster is stupid. Hey, how about – no, that’s Tobit. Ok, then – wait, that’s RWBY.’” Mirror read.
“Like I said, busy.”
“What exactly are you trying to do?”
“Write a Creepypasta.”
“Haven’t you written a few?”
“Yes, but I want another one that’s not poetry based that people will read and say, ‘Wow, that was actually very good.’” Dorkpool explained.
“Alright then. Have fun. Indo and I are going to see Inside Out.” Mirror said, and left.
Good, he’s gone. Now to get back to business.
Alright, how about monster hunters in the future fighting a cult that worships Jeff the Killer. Yeah, that has some potential.
Wait, doesn’t the Creepypasta Wiki not take anymore Jeff spin-offs or any stories with him?
…son of a bitch, they don’t.
And wait, a cult that worships Jeff the Killer? That’s kind of stupid.
Alright, what else?
What about a multi-toothed monster with a lust for horny teenagers?
Wait, that’s pretty much most slasher movies, but with a monster.
“Why can’t I think of any good and original ideas for a Creepypasta?” Dorkpool asked to no one in particular.
Maybe inspiration will strike on the Internet. Time to look up TV and movie news!
Harry Shearer is coming back to The Simpsons…
Disney’s making a live-action Prince Charming movie. Wait, what?
And there’s another Alvin in the Chipmunks movie coming out.
Seriously? Why? Was there an audience for it before? Like, sure, the first one probably had one, and maybe the second one, but the third one? And how did that make enough money for a fourth one? Incredibles 2 is still in development, but there’s a fourth Alvin and the Chipmunks?
Ok, so he’s feeling angry. Time to channel that anger into energy to write a damn good Creepypasta. And…
“Why did I just write a rant about Alvin and the Chipmunks?” Dorkpool asked. He read a bit of it over. “And why did I use more profanity than the love child of Denis Leary, Lewis Black, George Carlin, and a drunken sailor?”
Ugh. Time for a new idea.
Hey, how about a superhero whose universe is rebooted, and he’s the only one who knows? This drives him insane, and he goes on a killing spree and breaks into the real world?
That’s…actually pretty good. Sure, the ending could use some work, but the idea itself is ripe for a good story, and some commentary on reboots. Genius! Time to write the story.
Ok, so, it starts with…
It starts with…
Ok, what does it start with?
Dorkpool thought for a second, then realized something: he needed to use the bathroom.
He exited his quarters and bumped into Indometus.
“Oh, hey,” he said.
“Hi. Where’ve you been all day?” she asked.
“Trying to write. Weren’t you and Mirror going to see a movie?”
“We did, actually. Mirror cried.”
Mirror shouted from across the ship, “No I didn’t! I…I just had something in my eyes.”
“Yeah! Tears!” Indo shouted back.
“Well, anyway, I was going to go the bathroom, then return to writing,” Dorkpool said.
“Oh. You go do that then,” Indo said.
Soon he was back in his quarters.
Ok, so he had a good idea. Time to do something with it.
He put on some rock music, got some Redbulls, and went to work.
Alright, so that’s the start, and it’s great! Now…how does he realize he’s in a reboot?
Redbull coursed through his veins while “You Could Be Mine” played. And yet he had no ideas.
He did, however, feel the urge to run around and punch things, though that might be the Redbull, and the fact that “You Could Be Mine” had ended and the Mortal Kombat theme started playing.
Wait a second…
Beat things up…
Maybe the superhero is all angsty and crap after the reboot, and punches and villain so hard that he sees what the universe was before, and…
Wait, didn’t Superboy-Prime do something similar?
Damn it, he did. Except Superboy-Prime punched a wall or something.
Dorkpool looked at what he had. So far, it was actually pretty damn good. And, surprisingly, very in depth and well-written.
The Redbull was starting to wear off, and he was tired. Might as well take a break and sleep.
He turned off his computer…
And realized he forgot to save what he wrote.
Dorkpool’s anguished screams could be heard throughout the ship.