Dorkpool: They’ve said that no one can submit any more "Jeff-Inspired" stories.
Mirror: Well, that’s good. They clearly care about quality.
Dorkpool: They still have "Jeff-Inspired" stories there, like this one called "Jeff the Killer and Bedlam".
Mirror: Oh, fun.
Dorkpool: Is it? Well, let’s get a mallet, and Riff this bitch!
This story are the thoughts of Jeff the Killer as he meets Bedlam...
Dorkpool: This writing am not good.
The weirdest occurrence happened. I did my last kill for the night and was about to go back to my hideout (a new one, I’m on the run all the time), when the strangest thing happened to me...
Mirror: (Narrator): I was killed by sodomization.
I sprinted down the street and turned a corner towards... a playground. Here’s the thing, I never get lost, so this was a first for me. But instead of getting frustrated with my sudden loss of direction, I felt my carved mouth move into a larger smile. I saw someone on the swings on the very edge of the playground, and their built said it was a girl.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Their penis, however, said otherwise.
Her age, I wasn’t sure of. It was dark, I couldn’t see her very well, anyway. But, of course, the darkness was an advantage to me. I moved closer to the girl as she swung back and forth on the swings...
Back and forth... Back and forth... Back and forth...
Mirror: Wait, so is the weird occurrence that Jeff gets hypnotized?
I creeped closer. But as I was only a few yards away, I froze... and realized something...
She was looking at me the whole time. I stood there, I was still crouching in the darkness. She had stopped swinging, and was now frozen, like I was. I kept my eyes locked on her as she stood up. She had something behind her back, and wiggled her finger, gesturing me to go over to her...
"Who’s there?!" I turned my head to see a little boy, about nine, at the very edge of the playground. Near some houses. I heard a subtle whoosh of air and I looked back to where the girl was... and what do you know, she was gone.
Both: DUN DUN DUNNN!
The boy saw me, and I ended up giving him a few stabs.
I was a bit confused as to where the girl went, where she came from, or what she was doing there in the dark. Now that I think about it, she didn’t really look like a girl that you would find at a playground.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): She seems more like a girl you’d find at a daycare.
When she stood up, she looked very large in size. Tall, but pencil-thin...
I saw her again the next night after another kill. That tall, stick-like girl.
Mirror: So…a supermodel?
I found her and followed her, and got a closer look, but in better light. While under a streetlamp, I saw that, in fact that she wore no shoes, only stripped, black and white stockings and sleeves. She had tight, grey shorts and a red t-shirt.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): God, she looked stupid.
And her hair was blue, I don’t think it was a wig, really... Nor dyed. Authentic, real hair in a blue shade. I knew that she noticed me, but I wasn’t afraid. We kind of stared at each other for a few seconds before some noise took my gaze off of her, and she was gone with a gentle whoosh.
Mirror: (Narrator): She wants me.
Later, I realized she was following me, and I lost her eventually. She reminded me of Slenderman in some way, tall, thin, stalking, even comes and goes randomly. What have I done?
Dorkpool: Well, you cut out my tongue. Ow.
I thought. Is she going to stalk me until we kill each other? Or maybe she’s friendly? No matter, she’ll die sooner or later...
The next night was very different from yesterday when I thought she was friendly. Friendly my foot, turns out she had a croquet mallet behind her back before on the playground.
Mirror: Croquet players are notoriously unfriendly.
I went to find out if she was at the playground again, and there she was. She gestured to me with her finger again, and I moved toward her with curiosity. What an idiotic idea that was!
Next thing I knew, I ducked under a croquet mallet being swung over my head like a baseball bat! She chased after me for a few blocks before I jumped over a dumpster as an old man passed by.
Dorkpool: (Old Man): You damn kids, with your murder and croquet! Back in my day, we had World War 2 and Communist zombies!
Again, she seemed to gracefully and quickly glide away into the darkness. As for that old man? He didn’t see me, so I spared him. "That stupid girl!" I thought in fury. I’m going to find her tomorrow and end this!
Mirror: Even Jeff is tired of this story.
I met her back at the playground again the next night. I knew she was waiting for me, as was I for her. I gripped my knife and walked up to her, and I finally spoke.
"Who are you?"
Dorkpool: (Girl): They call me Mr. Tibbs.
Mirror: Actually, with the odd dress, possible insanity, and mallet, she might be Harley Quinn.
Dorkpool: Do not dirty the grandness of Harley Quinn by implying that she might be in this story, or I shall throw you out an airlock.
She stood there, leaning on her mallet. We stood in silence for a few moments. "Answer me!" I snapped slightly. The girl scoffed.
"Polite little boy, aren’t we?" Her voice was muffled, and I realized her face wasn’t really a face, but a mask. It was pale with pink cheeks, and the red paint over the white, plastic lips were shaped into a heart and into a twisted side grin. Her voice was almost...
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Satanic and horrifying.
Friendly, and perky. But reminded me of a badly tuned music box. Out of all of those features, her eyes stuck out to me the most. They were a bright yellow, with no pupils.
Mirror: Little does Jeff know that she’s going to fire laser beams from her eyes.
"Answer me." Her music box-like voice snapped me out of my trance staring into her eyes.
"What do I say?" I glared at her.
Dorkpool: (Girl): "Hail Hydra", of course.
To my surprise, she took out a random candle and matchbox from her pocket and lit it.
"What the heck are you supposed to be?" She held the candle to my face and squinted.
Mirror: (Jeff): I’m not even sure of that, to be honest.
"It isn’t Halloween yet, kid!" She chuckled, but her eyes grew wide as she looked into mine. She drew back again, licked her fingers, and took the flame out.
"Holy crap! It’s Jeff the Killer!"
Dorkpool: Oh no, it’s a fangirl! Run!
"What do you mean it’s not Halloween?" I said through clenched teeth.
Mirror: (Girl): I mean, it’s May 12.
"Well, it’s true." She said with a bit of a sassy tone. She crossed her arms. "What do you want, kid?"
"What do I want?!"
Dorkpool: (Girl): To be in a good story!
Mirror: (Jeff): When do I want it?
Dorkpool: (Girl): Now!
I tried not to shout so the whole neighborhood could hear me. "Why are you following me?!"
"You started it!" She shoved her finger into my face. I snatched up my knife and slashed at her finger. She managed to dodge it and made an impressive backflip. She suddenly took out a deck of cards from her pocket and flicked one of them at me.
Mirror: Laws of physics be damned.
I ducked, but it came back around like a boomerang and grazed my cheek. The girl caught the card as I fell in against the wall again, shocked of how quickly everything went. I touched my stinging cheek and felt the blood drip down it. I was furious!
"Wow..." I looked up at the girl again, she was leaning on the mallet the same way as before.
"What a baby! I thought you were a deadly killer, not a knock-to-the-ground-easily killed killer!"
Dorkpool: Life’s full of disappointments.
And she stuck her hand out, telling me she wanted to help me up.
"I’m Bedlam." She said.
"I can get up myself..." I mumbled angrily under my breath, doing so. "Why did you offer to help me?" Bedlam rolled her eyes.
"Can’t I be a friendly kind of girl?" She swung the croquet mallet over her shoulder and glared at me. "Or does every boy think that girls are scary and evil?"
Mirror: No, we think that they have cooties.
"Did I say that?" I hissed. She ignored my angry statement.
"We’re both killers, aren’t we?"
"We don’t have to be rivals and try to kill each other at every moment we’re seen by the other!" She hung her head down and her music box voice turned sad. "I need a friend, Jeff..." I frowned.
Dorkpool: (Bedlam): I need to be shipped with someone.
"Why do you need someone like me?" I scoffed. "I work alone."
"Come on, man!" She took the chin of her mask, lifted it up... and showed her face. I gasped.
What a terrible sight! Bedlam’s face was twisted and mangled, like she had been in a huge car wreck! Her eyes were ringed with black and blue bruises, she had no nose, she had no lips, and barely any teeth.
Mirror: If she has no nose, then how does she breathe?
Dorkpool: I don’t nose.
"You see," She began, putting the mask back.
"I have a mask because of the tragedy that happened to my beautiful face! An idiot of a jock girl thought it would be funny to throw the basketball right into my nose, I ended up losing that and my lips in surgery.
Dorkpool: How drunk were those surgeons?
And another time she took out both my eyes and most of my teeth..." She paused, fury and insanity was coming upon her.
"...I snapped, Jeff. I found my favorite toy..." She stroked her croquet mallet. "And bashed her head open while she was sleeping." Bedlam looked up at me.
"I’m just like you Jeff, a runaway, a fugitive... But with one exception...
Mirror: (Bedlam): I have less fangirls.
You don’t hide your face like I do... No, sir, you aren’t afraid of people seeing your... beautiful..." She lifted her hand up and stroked my face.
"...Beautiful face." She paused again.
Dorkpool: They gonna fuck.
"I just want a friend, Jeff. I want to kill with you! I want to be like you!" I stood there, shocked. Both at her face and the fact she wanted to be like me. My grin grew wider.
"...I’m sorry I tried to stab you, Bedlam." I said softly.
"I’m sorry I teased you." She said back. "Let’s go, we should go and kill together."
Mirror: Good things to do with friends: talk, play games, and murder people.
I felt so happy, I had a friend now...
I knew I was beautiful.
Dorkpool: And delusional, don’t forget delusional.
Dorkpool: This story isn’t all that good.
Mirror: It’s basically a self-insertion shipping story (Seriously, the writer of this story is called Bedlam). Sure, it isn’t shipping per se, but it’s close enough. This would be fine, except the shipping aspect doesn’t make sense. The reason she and Jeff team up is because she has a fucked up face and complimented Jeff? Of course. Also, what’s with the boy and the old guy? They add nothing to the story except a body count, and even then it’s not much. I really think it’s just padding, since this story is pretty long. Not "BEN Drowned" long, but longer than most pastas we Riff.
Dorkpool: There are good things. Despite weird character hiccups, there is some characterization. Also, the spelling and grammar is pretty good, especially for a story like this. And the writing is pretty good. It’s not the worst Creepypasta (well, Spinpasta) I’ve read. Hell, it’s not even the worst story I’ve read with Jeff the Killer. It’s still not very good though. But that’s what we think. What do you guys think? Was the Riff good? Do you wish we’d be hammered to death? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.