It's alive, creepypasta, creepypasta creepypasta didn't work.

Let me try creepypasta creepypasta creepypasta.

Nothing.

This book of spells is a hunk of junk.

It's midnight.

You guys, it's supposed to be working right now.

If I may I have a suggestion that's him.

That's his voice.

Yes.

See you have to say my name correctly.

It's creepy pasta, not creepypasta.

There's a space between the words.

So creepypasta again, there's a piece.

You have to say it.

Like there's a space between the two words, creepypasta.

No creepypasta.

Not quite again, there's a space between creepy and pasta.

It's like a pause, creepy space pasta.

You know what?

I'm just going to use the door like I usually do really that worked.

I feel like you guys knew I was coming at times.

Anyway, I'm here for the third shot, october in a row and over the past year I've been crafting the creepiest tales you've ever pastored.

What?

No questions.

Just listen.

This creepy pastor is entitled the slide of no return and in case and if you were wondering yes to die, I'm sorry about that.

Anyway, Detective Michael Muktar de Apple had been retired for years after failing to discover where sandpaper Jackson was buried in 1997 he hung up his shoes for good or so he thought because when Children began mysteriously disappearing on the slide at the local park double leash knew there was only one person to call the ex detective who was literally the size of a child.

Okay, we get it.

Michel.

MCQ Tiny apple arrived at the park and witnessed it for himself.

A young child innocently started sliding at the top of the slide disappeared into the enclosed tube section and then never emerged.

My tiny apple assumed there must be a clog.

One child got stuck.

Then every other child got stuck to right a wrong.

He looked up into the slide and there was nothing, no Children, no obstructions, no apparent danger at all.

After much thought with this tiny tiny little brain, the tiny apple decided there was only one thing to do, he would go down the slide himself.

He climbed to the top of the slide.

It was a large feet for an apple, so so very tiny, no knock it off and he peered down knowing this could very well be the end of him, but someone had to figure out what was happening to all those Children and it might as well be him.

A washed up tiny little man who couldn't even figure out where sandpaper Jackson had been buried.

So, with one last deep breath, Michael Mcburney Apple began to slide.

The slide was cool and slick against his tiny little buttocks.

That is until it wasn't moments after he passed into the tunnel portion of the slide, the slide became rough like sandpaper.

The tiny apple looked down and realized it actually was sandpaper and the further he slid across it, the more of his body was being sanded away As he slid further, watching his body disappeared before his very eyes, he finally understood what had happened to all those Children.

They've been sanded away into dust and with his final glimpse downward moments before his eyeballs turned to dust themselves, Michael Matteini ever made another realization.

He came to understand that long last, the exact location of sandpaper.

Jackson's final resting place inside the tunnel of a slide and the local party.

Everyone see you back, scary twist endings always make little apple pedal himself.

So, hey, wait a second.

Where is little Apple?

Oh, he's probably hiding around here somewhere.

You know how tiny people are.

All right, all right, you are.

You know, I wasn't so sure about this guy before, but I'm officially on board.

Oh, excellent.

Then perhaps you'll be on board with my next creepypasta, I call.

It.

Does a tree make a sound decades ago.

Vincent parry had murdered his wife and buried her in the yard beneath an oak tree and he'd gotten away with it too.

Not a soul suspected that he Vincent parry, the most boring person in town could have done such a dastardly deed.

Why did he kill his wife?

You may ask, because her voice was incredibly annoying.

Seriously.

Every time she would open her mouth, a noise would come out like, not quite like that.

No closer.

But no, I mean it's close, but it's not quite there.

Mhm.

There it is.

Now.

Then, decades after his wife's tragic passing Mr Perry decided he wanted to build a new house so he chopped down the oak tree in his yard and much to his surprise and made a remarkably familiar sound.

No, no, precisely the noise ceased once the tree was felled and mr Perry believed that he had heard the last of that wretched noise.

But alas he had not because every time he did anything with the trees would the noise would come again when he built a house.

The noise would come when he built a chair.

The noise would come when he so much as picked his teeth with a splinter from the tree.

The noise would come.

Oh you just do the noise.

You know very well.

What noise I'm talking about.

Thank you.

And after years of this noise Mr Perry was finally driven completely mad and was caught in a way to the madhouse.

There he was placed in a padded room with metal furniture.

There was not a speck of wood to be found anywhere.

And Vincent mark Perry at long last side.

Sweet relief.

He was finally free of the wretched noise or so he thought because even though the insane asylum staff had thought of nearly everything they had forgotten to replace the wooden floorboards, that was great.

I think my favorite part was when the wood went hey where is everyone?

Oh yeah I believe he had to step outside and he had cause mom or something man.

The service in here must be total crap and sis had to go to Pluto.

I hear it's beautiful this time of year.

What without me?

She knows I've always wanted to go there.

Yes.

Well perhaps my final creepy pastor will send you to another place I call this tasty tale, finish your food prisoner.

Orange jumpsuit had been on death row for years awaiting execution for the terrible, awful unspeakable crimes he had committed.

What did he do?

I said they were unspeakable didn't I?

Now the date of his execution and finally arrived and the guards informed him that it was time to choose his last meal.

Once he had finished his food he would be escorted to the electric chair.

The prisoner asked what was on the menu to which he was told anything, anything he wanted to eat, he could have.

So the prisoner thought and thought and finally answered spaghetti what?

No, he selected a honda burrito, that's not how the story goes.

Sure it is.

You said he could have anything he wanted.

Right Well yes, but so he chose spaghetti, a big old plate of it and he started slurping down a really, really long noodle.

I'm talking lot.

It took forever for him to reach the end of that thing so long.

In fact that all the guards died of old age before he was done.

The prison closed and everyone who remembered he had committed those unspeakable crimes were long gone too.

So when the prisoner finally finished, there was nobody left to take him to the electric chair.

So instead he lived happily ever after.

It took the zulus ends.

Dude, enough of the kazoo doing, Whoa, You guys are back back.

When did we leave?

We've been here the entire time.

Yeah.

Ever since midnight of october 31st, 17 43.

What?

Wait.

Let's just turn to the wrong page by bad.

Yeah.

It's been 20, the whole time.

Okay.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Mm hmm.