The Ballad of alistair2511

The fluorescent light of the alarm clock blinked, as if in mocking.
12:52 AM. Damn.
That's a full 4 hours past bedtime and still he hadn't arrived.
Not haunting. Not hunting. Nothing.
I kept staring at the monitor, praying that he would arrive soon.
Nothing.
He still hadn't arrived... I should explain.
I run a small Minecraft server, serving premium minigames to my loyal guests, such as Umar_K and BigBoiBontus. Or...at least I did. I can't do it properly anymore.
Every night, as I slept, someone joined the server. He griefed the place, destroying the server and killing other players. He shouldn't have been able to. He wasn't an admin and PVP was disabled. In fact there was no record of him ever even joining the server.
His name, according to the players raided, was alistair2511.
I got bored of staring, of waiting. It was past 1AM now and I had become betwixt with fatigue, so I went to bed. I used to suffer from bad insomnia, but over the past few months I was able to slip off easily. Ironic.
When I woke it had happened again.
The 5 hours of work I had put into the server, all gone. alistair2511 had struck again, dastardly committing a heinous crime, piloting flying machines into the structures I'd built and murdering the few naive players who still logged onto my server. There was only one thing to be done.
Legend tells of a Minecraft God even more powerful than alistair2511, a God with the power to do anything, to say anything, without repercussion. This God was shrouded in mystery, the few stories about him (like hit 5 bagger popcorn classic The Lawrence Dilemma) acting like black fog obscuring his identity.
Wewladstbh.
There was a ritual that could be performed to summon him. One of the stories told of a ritual that could be performed to contact him. I will not speak of the details so you, innocent reader, do not get hoodwinked into contacting him, but suffice it to say that it involved publicly shouting vitriol and allowing him to enter me under cover of night.
An exchange was struck. I gave him my body. He gave me his help.
Now that I was in contact with Wewladstbh, he went on the prowl. That very night, he joined the server and came into contact with alistair2511.
Wewladstbh: "ooooooooooooooooooo"
alistair2511: "who tf dis"
Wewladstbh: "you already know who it is ******"
alistair2511: "hot and bother, it's wew lads himself"
Wewladstbh: "oy, joey's bizarre adventure is aktually a really good show you should watch japanese cartoons"
alistair2511: "no u lol"
Wewladstbh: "frick"
Wewladstbh: "begone"
alistair2511 was violently expelled from the server, and I woke up. But I wasn't in my bed.
I was sitting in front of my computer, staring at the incognito tab I had open. It was logged into Minecraft. But it was a different account to my own. My server .bat was open in the background, deleting the server logs. Holy frick.
I was alistair2511.
(My name is Ed Norton, and that is my ACTUAL story. David Fincher is a rip-off merchant who BUTCHERED my original Minecraft tale.)
Category:The Lawrence Dilemma
Category:Dramapasta
Category:Creepypasta
Category:Short Pastas