nyuuzyou/wikis huggingface dataset:
A Bothersome Gentleman

So, back in the day I used to live in a house in the suburbs. Near my home was a fairly trafficked road, and a few weeks ago, there had been an accident. A truck from the dildo factory (biggest business in town) had collided with a regular car. The driver of the regular car had perished, dildos in places best not mentioned.
Anyway, this guy had friends and relatives or something, and they had put up a shrine in his memory at the crash site. A shrine containing a lot of cool stuff, related to his life. One such thing was a vintage Darth Vader action figure. Now, who could most benefit from such a treasure? Me, or some dead guy?
Purely a retorical question, the action figure is now resting easy in a cardboard box in my garage. And that's the story of how I got a cool Star Wars thing. Completely unrelated to this, some guy had been knocking on my door every night since. He's got a weird limp, as if something is stuck up his ass...
Tell you more about it later...
==Later==
I've told you about the prank war between my brother and I. In order to get him back for giving me a posessed doll, I've been perusing a book I found in the palace library, looking for ideas. It's author, Abdul Alhazred, was thought to be mad, surely some wacky hijinks must be found within Kitab al-Azif, better known as the Necronomicon.
I couldn't decipher it's strange language, but before becoming Royal Keeper of Reality (and paramour to the princess), I worked as a security guard at an insane asylum. I was given a set of rules, but I didn't read them, seeing as reruns of old A-team episodes were on the TV. Long story short, I now have an uneasy truce with the Esoteric Order of Dagon. And a plan was coming together...
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Satire
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:TOTALLY NOT UNFINISHED U GUIZE
Category:Originally on r/shittynosleep
Category:Shortpasta
A Boy without a Name

People always pray to God, and almost everybody believes in a powerful being who watches over us all.
Well, do you think that is true? Have you ever doubted it?
Then let me tell you a little tale. His name was forgotten, so let's call him this boy without a name of "little Leon".
That is why boys and girls, you should not mess with the one who lurks in the dark space, unless you want to meet Leon in person, or what is left of him, until another tales, kids, and remember "Pray safe".
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Beings
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Well, that was anticlimactic.
Category:Old Shit
Category:Shortpasta
A Breakfast Visit from Bob

There he is. There he FUCKING is. Bob is standing right in front of me; only cut off by a thin screen door. I've read the articles, so I know that isn't going to stop hi- YUP, he's pushing his way through it as I think this type. Tasteful rustic decor be damned, screen doors are stupid, battleship or no. Fucking live-in girlfriends.
I grab the frying pan I was making my breakfast with and hurl it at the ghoulish, meal interupting prick. Despite being cast iron, red hot, and filled with bacon, all it does is force him to release a god-awful growl and me to rethink my kitchens onhand defenses. He's moving a bit faster now, so I follow suit. Slamming the hall door behind me, I feel him slam into it and the wood splinter slightly. Looking to my right I see what could but probably won't be the instument of my salvation, my girlfriend's Women's League Softball bat. Gripping it tightly with both my hands and preparing for that pale bastard to break through, the only thought rushing through my head is "Is my girlfriend a lesbian?". I'm snapped out of the resulting blissful mental imagery by a snarling head poking through a hole in the door. "Fuck you, Bob!", I shout as I bring the wooden cudgel down on the shiny top of his head. My heart sinks when I hear the cracking of wood and the see the bat break in half.
Throwing the useless handle aside I can only watch as Bob bring the rest of his form through yet another fashion-over-function door. He tries to throw one of his unholy-strong kicks my way at waist level, but no way am I letting this naked freak crush my Nude Bomb, so I dodge that shit like LeBron dodged the finals. Thinking quickly, I throw my own Falcon Kick into his pelvis and watch him stumble and trip through what remains of the hall door. Making my way upstairs into the bedroom hallway, I tip the bookshelf there so that it leans against the opposite wall. That'll teach him not to have any arms. Knowing that won't hold him for long, I run into my bedroom, retrieve my favorite toy from the closet, and turn over the dresser for cover. Hearing the heavy scramling sounds of him moving past the bookcase, I calm myself in preperation for the task at hand with more lesbian pron thoughts. Before it gets to the good part he kicks open the door and I pull the trigger.
The stinger released from the launcher with ruthless accuracy as if it were guided by my hate, 'sploding that ghostly fucker into a haze of pale flesh and what I can only describe as... well, not organs but an incredible simulation. All I can say is, bless the man who invented the rocket launcher.
And loose Texas weapon laws.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Satire
Category:Excessive Profanity
Category:Pointless Violence
Category:English Class Failure
Category:Old Shit
A Brief Descent Into Madness

Make phone calls.
Learn to love America more.
Try to wake up at dawn.
Start to appreciate beauty.
Make more phone calls.
Watch the USB humping dog.
Get into building bird houses.
Promise a child that you'll buy them a dinosaur toy, but instead by them a toy of a lame instinct animal like a giant ground Sloth.
Focus on the edge.
Use a telephone.
Collect interesting things.
Look for predators.
Watch the walls of your bomb shelter.
Use your telephone.
Keep your eyes on the humping dog.
Spin a web.
Live in constant fear.
Write letters to the cast of the jersey shore telling them the pros and cons of adopting pets.
Dial someones phone number.
Wear only one glove, its cooler than two.
Appreciate good Pokémon cards.
Change your perspective.
Don't stop using the phone.
Gather human hair.
Decrease your pressure.
Bring the humping dog gifts and praise.
Collect enough human hair that your friends (if you have any left) can't help but be repulsed and simultaneously impressed by simply your resolve.
Never put down your phone.
Study whats really gone loose.
Imagine transforming into something greater.
Never leave without your phone.
Create arbitrary symbols for your name.
Keep invisible pets.
Wear a mask when you sleep so you become that person in your dreams.
Enjoy the comforts of the sounds of the phone.
Notice every stain.
Just who the hell does that humping dog think he is?!
Buy a memory card and never open it, but pretend that you have saved files on it.
Write songs about telephones, just like Lady Gaga.
I know who you are...
See only beauty in life.
...and I will find you.
IF
YOU
PUT
DOWN
THE
PHONE
YOU
WILL
...
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Well, that was pointless.
Category:Old Shit
Category:Pages with proper attribution
Category:Shortpasta
A Broken Light

Mark was a writer, and an odd one at that. Although his writings included eccentric things, he himself was a corrupted member of the dysfunctional society. 3:47 AM. On a day of no importance to him he arranged for his start to the day. Almost near the end of his cycle he sat down and noticed something peculiar and out of his customary routine. As he sat down to eat his morning meal he saw the light above the table was completely shattered. Mark inspected the area entirely and saw no broken glass or residue of any sort. This made the dining room incredibly dark because of the time of day and he thought back to old familiar memories of the basement and how he used to be mortified of its darkness that seemed to envelope him when he stared into it. After eliciting his old self he pushed it out of his head ashamed of his own cowardice and stupidity, and decided to skip breakfast. Mark had always done an early walk but never this early. As he started he noticed the neighborhood he had lived in for the past three years was blazing a new feeling in his direction, a feeling of insanity and loss. Every color he saw was a hint off of the normal and it was almost as if the life had been sucked out of the world. He walked for thirty minutes not going anywhere in particular but just thinking. Mark looked up for a second to check his surroundings and saw he had no idea where he was out of the corner of his eye he saw someone standing there under the dim street light he had passed only moments ago. He turned to fully behold the humanoid figure he saw and was threatened by the look of its hideous figure. The creature was covered in rotted black skin and had claws for fingers that looked to be at least half a foot long. Its face had a gnarled and broken smile as half of it was torn off completely exposing the skull underneath. Just as Mark was beginning to understand what was happening the street lights began to flicker and then exploded into a shower of sparks. Then he was in darkness, being consumed by the fear in his mind. A dim light in the distance sputtered on and Mark almost unwilling continued towards it. Before the light was a door and inside a normal house with the light hanging loosely overhead. The outside world had come back and he could peer through the fogged windows. At first his nightmare had appeared to be over and then it came back with an ominous force of overwhelming power. The creature from before was back and first it was outside the window. Mark startled and confused fell backwards and scrambled up to his feet. As he began to recover himself the lights flickered. The creature was now in every window. The lights nearly gave out again. All of the creatures were now inside surrounding him and staring into him, not moving. The lights flickered a last time and then burst. In his final moments Mark finally found where he was. It was his kitchen, with his now broken light.
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Wall of Text
Category:English Class Failure
Category:Old Shit
A Broken Soul

This tale begins in a small town, said to be haunted by the damned whom lost their lives experiencing hellish pain.
Once a year, it is said, they will rise from their fiery pit to torment the ones who have spilled innocent blood on the ground.
They will simply slowly follow you until you are broken and tired, then they'll drag you to where you belong.
You will not feel any pain as you arrive. You will be surrounded by the ones you have killed and they will sing out in a dark melody. Shrieks will emit from those who died more painfully than others.
You will be alone with the ones you've killed, forced to hear the melody of their pain. You will not be harmed physically, you may feel regret or sorrow, but most do not and claim they aren't responsible. Walking on and on, nothing will change, except you will find their faces slowly rip and tear, leaving their flesh to be seen. Blood will rain from the sky as you cower in fear of what's to happen next.
You will be trapped for all time with them. They will shun you and laugh, as you will be alone in this hell hole. You won't feel anything physical.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Ghoooosts
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Old Shit
Category:Shortpasta
A Brush with Death

I first encountered Death while I was working as an intern at GenericPastas Inc. We have since become good friends and are currently working together as head animators on the enormously popular children's show Captain Generality.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:I WAS AN INTERN AT
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Well, that was pointless.
Category:Old Shit
Category:Shortpasta
A Bug's Life: Deleted Scene

Has anyone heard about this old pixar movie: A bug's life? It's a movie about an ant named Flik, who teams up with a team of circus insects to fight a band of evil grasshoppers led by hopper, an evil, greedy grasshopper who only wants food from the ants. I watched it, like a couple of years ago, and i pretty much enjoyed it. However, one incident left me shocked for my entire life! In 2007, I found a VHS tape on the ground while i was walking home after a day of swimming practice. It said: "don't watch, Pixar Confidential Tape!" I popped it into my VCR.
==THE TAPE==
The tape started with static for 5 minutes. The scene was the near ending climax of the movie: A Bug's Life, where Hopper cornered Flik into the birds nest. The scene was violent, An example was hopper choking flik with flik coughing. The bird then sees hopper doing the dreadful deed. Thinking it is a trick with the blueberry scouts inside, Hopper immediately realised and he was shocked. The bird roared at him, but the roar was Godzilla's roar and it was extremely loud! I turned down the volume, but i could still hear the deafening roar. Hopper screamed as he walked out, but the bird caught him. As hopper was almost going to die, the bird then stabs him with it's beak and carries him to his babies. Somehow hopper is still alive and he was screeching for help! Instead of carrying hopper down, the bird immediately dropped hopper down to it's babies. The screen cuts to black and i could hear blood curdling screams. Soon, an image of hopper appeared on the screen.
Hopper was dead, his left eye was a cross and his other eye was dangling from the socket. His mouth started leaking blood and his wings were ripped out. One of his arms were ripped out as well. The music playing was Lavender Town from pokemon FireRed! I tried lowering down the volume, but the remote had no batteries! I tried asking for help, but i was alone. The screen turned black and then a message appeared saying: "1995, Pixar Animation Studios." The tape popped out of the VCR and i popped it back in to get some footage. I uploaded the footage to YouTube, and i ended up selling the tape to eBay. Where it is out there somewhere, where someone now, can buy and watch this disturbing tape.
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Lost Episodes
Category:English Class Failure
Category:Pointless Violence
Category:Read by HoodoHoodlum
A Bush Ranger's Tale

This is a story about me time as a bush wanker tracking the kangasaurus rex in fair dinkum Down Under. Me missus said I should tell you fucking cunts what I saw there. Fair warning it's heaps spooky.
One time I was drinking bevies with the blokes in the park wankers office when a lady came in and said she saw the great whopping yabbie gobber of Uluru. So I packed me digerizooka and a few trusty aborigines and trekked across the bush. About six hundred wallaby hops in I stopped for a piss because I'd been chucking back bevies all day. While I'm pissing the great whopping silver-backed yabbie sprung up and gave me a fair dinkum gobbie. Pretty fucking spooky.
Another time me mates and I heard about the bunyip who spooked all the aborigines all the way to Indonesia. So we got fucking wrecked for the liquid confidence and went after the bastard with nothing but our boomerangs and our billabongs. Later we're camping for the night telling each other ghost stories when one of me mates gets pretty fucking spooked and there's the bunyip wanker off in the bushes, giving us a good old cheeky stare and copping itself a feel which was fucken gnarly. So I threw me fucken boomerang at the cunt.
But It didn't come back.
Holy shit what the fuck.
There's heaps more but I'm not posting until me centrelink comes in and I can pay for the next month's shit broadband.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Satire
Category:Animulz
Category:Shortpasta
Category:Originally on r/shittynosleep
A Call to Adventure

As you walk home in the dead of night you feel abruptly a light tugging on your leg.
As you tilt your head down into the left to see what could cause this you notice a homeless man and a trail of blood stretching off around the corner into the distance and ending at his crotch.
He looks you dead in the eyes, directly into your soul as he says; "please kind traveler I've been kicked in the nutsack and my balls fell out; I can't find them, will you help me?"
The game is on.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Copypasta
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Shortpasta
Category:Well, that was pointless.
A Cancer

__NOTOC__
== Sam's Birthday: Chapter 1 ==
There once was a kid. Sam was a happy kid. He liked dinosaurs, and um.. Monster trucks. Sam's birthday was coming up, he was going to be ten years old. His parents were very excited for him. They decided to get him an archeology kit due to his interest in dinosaurs, and The Past. It was Sam's birthday. He was ten. He had chocolate cake. Jesus Christ, I'm already getting shivers talking about this. His parents got him the archeology kit. Inside, was a streak plate. It was a normal streak plate. Naturally, Sam being the idiotic ten year old he his, quickly saw the streak plate and thought it was a piece of candy and devoured it.
== I Am A Doctor: Chapter 2 ==
It was an ordinary day at the ER. But somehow, I felt it was cold. I heard the blaring of a siren from outside. I knew there was going to be a patient, that I - Doctor Branson - was going to have to save. As I was standing in the operating room, sweat was dripping off of I - Doctor Branson - ..I - Doctor Branson - proceeded to operate on the patient. He was a boy named Sam. I thought he looked like a Jimmy. I - Doctor Branson - would name my son, Jimmy. We noticed there was an obstruction in his crotch - Because I - Doctor Branson - am a pedophile. It was a Cancer. A testicular Cancer.
== The Operation: Chapter 3 ==
I - Doctor Branson - immediately sprung into action, carefully cutting off the testicular sack - Wait, no. The Ball Sack. I - Doctor Branson - then precisely and quickly removed it so I - Doctor Branson - could operate on the crotch area. It was then, I - Doctor Branson - noticed an anomaly. It was a small alien life form. I - Doctor Branson - singlehandedly discovered an extraterrestrial life form. I - Doctor Branson - took the laser and attacked Sam's crotch-alien with the laser. It shrieked fearfully and was stunned by the laser. Then, I - Doctor Branson - swiftly swiped the alien with the scalpel to discover that it was not Sam with the Cancer. The alien had a testicular Cancer.
== The Testicular Cancer: Chapter 4 ==
I - Doctor Branson - removed the alien's testicular Cancer. I - Doctor Branson - realized the operation was on Sam, not the alien. Then I - Doctor Branson - implanted the Cancer into Sam, and took it out for a successful operation. I - Doctor Branson - then stored the Cancer in the Cancer Storage Unit to use the Cancer for.. Other, purposes.
== I - Doctor Branson: Chapter 5 ==
I - Doctor Branson - went home with the Cancer. I - Doctor Branson - took the Cancer, and implanted it into I - Doctor Branson's - crotch area. Then after that, I - Doctor Branson - banged many chicks fer dayz.
== Epilogue ==
I - Doctor Branson - fought valiantly in my battle against the testicular Cancer. But, in the end.. I - Doctor Branson - lost against the testicular Cancer.
Now you might be thinking, "What a twist that I - Doctor Branson - have delivered." But no, the only twist that I - Doctor Branson - has delivered was the twist that I - Doctor Branson - delivered your mother last night!
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Ghoooosts
Category:Im died
A Cautionary Tale

The following tale may not involve monsters, demons or ghosts but in some ways it is more disturbing as the story I am about to share with you does not make you wonder about whether or not the supernatural exists: instead it makes you stop and think about how your own actions can trigger events you would never imagine possible.. the idea that through one mistake you could find yourself thrown into a scene right out of some fanciful horror film.
The story concerns a man who was driving home from work one night and was stuck behind a slow moving vehicle, unable to pass the vehicle he grew more and more angry - he started to flash his lights and repeatedly honked his horn to try and force the other driver to speed up, after a while it seemed to work and the vehicle in front sped up.
The man continued on his journey and the car in front pulled away, allowing him to speed up even more as he made his way home - however as he reached a quiet road leading up to his home he suddenly found himself being pursued by a familiar car from behind: which flashed its lights and honked repeatedly.
Fearing a case of road rage the man sped up, only for the other car to speed up in turn - the man began to panic as he reached his house and pulled into his lawn: the other car came to a stop as he did and the man remained in his car, afraid to get out.
Sure enough he heard the other car's door open and a figure emerged holding a gun, the man tried to stay in his car but was forced out as the other figure appeared - brandishing the gun and forcing him out of the car, the man tried to reason with his attacker but was hit across the head with the back of the pistol for his efforts.
Neighbors had already been alerted to the assault and called authorities, though none of them dared to confront the attacker as the man was forced to kneel on the ground as the figure proceeded to fire the gun: blowing out the man's tires before heading back into their vehicle and driving off.
The man was left with minor cuts and bruises but was badly shaken from the attack - his aggressor was never caught despite several attempts by the police to track them down and this only served to make him more nervous.
Now as far as I know the man eventually recovered and lived a pretty normal life, no shock murder or insanity - yet every time I think on this story I get a little shiver because it makes me think twice about flipping someone off or forgetting my "please" and "thank you"s, that my parents were right when they said it was important to always mind your manners.. after all you never know who you could offend.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Old Shit
A Change of Scenery

"His head rolled across the floor. That's all I can remember."
A young student was brutally murdered today. His father wishes him to remain anonymous, so we'll refer to him as "Jacob".
Jacob is a single child, born and raised in the corn crops of Chilliwack. "He would always be the first one out plowing the fields, trying to get the job done quick so he could go about his own personal business" as quoted by Jacob's father, Gabe.
"Although I never saw him much, I can't think of life without him. He was, and shall always be, here in spirit."
When things seemed bleak, they had no choice but to live in the depressing section of Vancouver known as "Hastings".
"We just couldn't afford it any more, the farm was gone and we had no where left to turn. [Jacob] was devastated." Jacob would later find himself involved in a gang. The change of location "affected the way he thought."
The incident occurred at 3:51 AM on a Friday, although his mother couldn't recall much.
"He brought over one of his friends. I was hardly awake and wasn't paying much attention."
According to the mother, he was "tall and had a beard." When the mother woke up due to the ruckus, she was shocked to find her son had been killed. "It was a ghost, I know this because I googled it."
Her son was killed by a ghost.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Ghoooosts
Category:Old Shit
Category:Shortpasta