Episode 373: Nightmarish Horror Stories

Dr. Creepen (0:15)

Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon.

They say that fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope. Stories of imagination tend to up-send those without one, as we will see in tonight's Two Tales of Terror. Later on, we have The Instrument by Ivan Radev, but we begin proceedings with Helena Ascending the Staircase by Samantha R29. Now, as always, before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin.

Fresh Meat by Corpse Child You know, I used to laugh at the idea of being a vegetarian. The idea of purposefully not eating meat used to sound so dumb to me. I mean, yeah, I'll feed lifestyle and all. And yes, I am aware that some people actually can't eat meat because of an inability to digest it. But come on, how could you say no to a nice full rack of baby back ribs or a quarter pound of New York style steak, right? Well, guess the joke's on me now.

After what happened, I can't think of any of that without wanting to puke. I'm going to put this out there now. If you're a faint of heart or weak of stomach, do not read this. Let me also go ahead and say that no, I'm not talking about Mickey D's either. Say what you want about their food not being actual meat or whatever. I can guarantee you, whatever it is made of, it's far less horrific than what I saw at a place I used to work at. Mr. Pigsley's Diner, home of delicious meat, happy bellies and having a snorting good time. Those words, the big, bold, red words plastered next to that smiling fat ass pig with a 50s style football jacket and haircut, will always haunt my nightmares. The place itself was one of those that was made to resemble an old timey diner from the 50s and 60s. Black and white tower floor, vintage photos from car shows, old stuntmen or shots of Elvis Leslie as well as different antiques on display. Place even had an actual jukebox, quite operated with actual CDs instead of the touch screen ones you see nowadays. In the middle of the dining area was where the bar was. And during the day, till about six or so, it was an ice cream bar with the barley sodas being brought out later on in the evenings. Remember how you could bring your kid up to the bar on a Friday afternoon for a little oinkers hour, where the ice cream was hand-made right in front of them, and they got whatever flavour and toppings they wanted, and however much of it they wanted for free. Aside from this, they also had the Piglet Wall of Fame, where the Rugrats would have pictures taken of them in little pig masks with the mascot Mr. Pigsley standing beside them as they scoffed down a three-ounce plate of pulled pork. Well, of course, the kids loved it. And the parents loved it, too, for how dirt-cheap the food was. We're talking $15 tops for a large-sized barbecue plate with two large sides with a drink. The sale of this to say that the place was very family-oriented, or particularly when it came to bringing the kids. My family actually used to take me and my brother Andre when we were little kids. And like I said, with all the other kids, we too had more than our fair share of our little oinker hours on Fridays to kick off the weekend, and had our pictures added to the wall of fame, which were all gone now after what happened. Now, take that and fast forward to almost a year ago. I'm 21 and haven't just moved out of my parents' house with no degree or any other job experience, and I needed to have a way to make rent for my apartment. You can imagine how difficult a decision it was for me to choose Mr. Pigsley's diner as my go-to.

I was hired almost on the spot after I put in an application to be a cook. The pay for the job I'd be doing admittedly wasn't quite as bad as I was expecting. $11 an hour, 40 hours a week. Of course, being that it was strictly second shift, they spent long, exhausting nights slaving in the kitchen, and then closing the kitchen. It was rough, but I had to do it. After about a month or two, I'd just about gotten used to it. Actually, it wasn't long after that that I was getting my first raise to $11.75. I'd also managed to get to a point, usually because the other kitchen staff were out back taking a smoke, that I was actually able to handle work in most areas of the kitchen alone. In other words, I'd gotten pretty good at my job pretty quickly.