The Funhouse Creepypasta

CW (Content warning): Descriptions of violence, foul language and upsetting material
It was the day that changed my life. Me, Ben Watts, a normal everyday ten-year-old boy from Pelican Bay, an ass-end-of-nowhere failing seaside town in California, got the phone call to appear on the Funhouse. Me! Appearing on a TV show. Can you believe it? As I was driven the two hours to Los Angeles, I thought to myself, This is a dream. It's too good to be true.
My mom dropped me off and I said goodbye to her. A tall, blonde woman led me through the doors, and down the garish hallways. That was when I met him. Funtime Freddy, the host of the show. He was tall with wild, frizzy blue-dyed hair and dressed in garish, clown-style clothing, and shook my hand vigorously. I smiled nervously, and he led me to a greenroom with a group of other children gathered inside. A slightly older boy in a ripped T-shirt looked to me. He seemed nervous. He told me that Funtime Freddy was bad news, and that other kids who came on his show never came home. I thought he was bluffing.
Then it was showtime. Freddy announced in his cheery, sound-barrier shattering voice that he had a special guest on with him.
Category:Creepypasta