YUM YUM!

==Part 1==
Steve Richards came home from work in the late evening. His short roundish wife with almost mullet-like feathered hair had made pizza rolls in the microwave for dinner. Steve was not impressed.
"How was work?" whined Vicki, Steve's wife as she tossed handfuls of pizza rolls onto bizarre plastic clown face dinner plates.
"Terrible", Steve snapped "and I see you didn't get shit done while I was at work. I can't figure out why - during the nine hours I'm at work all goddamn day – you can't seem to get off your ass and clean something! Anything! There's still some weird shit on the carpet in the corner of the living room!" Steve flailed his arms around dramatically and kicked a wooden table chair across the kitchen, causing it to bust on the hideous yellow linoleum. "What the hell is it you're doing all day exactly? Watching this garbage?" Steve was now screaming at this point and flung his arm towards the miniature television set sitting on the kitchen counter.
The television set played a scene that seemed almost out of a dream. A pale corpse-like man in a powder blue suit danced in slow motion on a foggy stage covered in various red and violet neon lights. The entire time, the man stared, smiling at the television viewer with a seemingly endless supply of blood flowing from his eyes, nose, and mouth. The sleeves and suit were drenched in dark wet splotches as his fingernails bled as well. Artificial clapping and laughter over the sounds of grinding machinery was all that played in background as noise.
Steve punched the power button to the television off, causing a vase full of tin foil flowers to topple over onto the counter. "You watch that crap twenty-four hours a day, I'm sick of it!" screamed Steve, and then looked over at Vicki, who silently sat at the table. She stared at her plate while shoveling pizza rolls into her mouth.
Steve stared at the dried hairspray coated on Vicki's mullet. He noticed some had bled down onto her forehead, creating a now peeling halo on her spray-tan dark orange skin. Steve felt a sort of pity and sighed; he grumpily slumped onto a chair and also began silently eating pizza rolls.
After several minutes, Vicki broke the silence by asking, "So what happened at work?"
"Oh you know, the usual crazy bullshit", said Steve with his mouth full of pizza substance "'member that psycho asshole, Darryl?"
"The one who urinated at the investor's meeting?" asked Vicki quietly
Steve nodded and continued, "well Gunther had the day off – had some parasite or some shit- so Darryl had the cubicle to himself- "
"Wait, they still let him work there?"
"Not after today", half chuckled Steve with bits of pizza spraying out of his mouth, "the nutcase repeatedly stapled the palm of his hand then pulled them out for fun!"
"Oh my god!" piped Vicki, dropping a pizza roll
"That's not all" Steve went on, "they actually fired him for putting the staples in this woman's coffee, Beverly from accounting or something,"
"That's disgusting!" Vicki said, but her attention was suddenly draw to noise that had come from outside.
Steve had heard the sound as well. He jumped up from the chair and walked towards the backdoor, searching out the kitchen windows into the pitch black darkness. Steve was startled by Vicki, who suddenly began clapping slowly. He whipped around to face her as Vicki looked up from the plate in a trance while still clapping. She had a crazed smile plastered on her face and far off look in her eyes.
"yay", said Vicki in a sluggish haze, as if she was drunk, "it's time for yum yum"
Another noise caused Steve spin around towards the window again. The same man from the television program stared back at him through the window with a blood covered face. Suddenly, the back and front doors to house burst open. Strange ghost-like people in various outfits came flooding in, some with spotlights and video cameras, and some just clapping and chanting the word "yay" repeatedly. Steve began screaming and tried to fight past the mob, but several of them grabbed him and began pulling to the mob. Steve flailed and fought, losing against the crowd while Vicki continued to clap and chant in her seat. The same man from the television made his way easily through the crowd and stared down at Steve with a hideous bloody grin plastered across his face. It was time for yum yum.
==Part 2==
Greg walked into his grandparents' house without knocking, only to be met by a swarm of small barking dogs. The dogs did a jig while snarling and yapping around Greg as he made his way through the front room of the house and into the kitchen. Greg looked from the refrigerator into the conjoining living room, where his grandparents sat staring at the television set on an old faded leather sofa. Greg didn't say a word as he went to shuffle through the fridge. His grandparents knew he was there for food; it was something that occurred several nights out of the week. The recent slut Greg banged hadn't come through with the food stamps she had promised him. Honestly, who gave a shit though, his grandparents had stopped asking questions after the last couple of times he was there. Hell, at this point they didn't even acknowledge him; they were too obsessed with some shitty new local public access television show. That's all Greg heard about all over town, it's what everyone seemed to talk about. Greg had never seen it; he didn't even own a television. The last television he had he traded with a toothless skin head that hung out near the garbage dump for basement made synthetic hallucinogens.
Greg began raiding through the refrigerator, but it was nearly empty. He sorted through various genetically made diet food in white containers and a few leftover casseroles that all gave off a pungent smell similar to rotten meat. Greg finally found a tin of leftover meatloaf and began scooping cold, slimy, ketchup covered handfuls into his mouth.
"Greg!" his grandmother called out from the living room, "hurry, come in here, you've got to see this!"
Greg had been almost startled by his grandmother's voice cutting through the nearby silence in the room aside from the occasional dog bark. The small dogs had by that point given up on berating Greg and were now stacked in a pile in the corner of the room like a sack of potatoes.
"Huh?" gurgled Greg with a mouthful of meatloaf after an awkwardly long pause.
Greg wandered into the room and looked over at the television set his grandparents continued to stare at. The television played footage from what seemed like a hidden camera watching an average looking family driving down the road in a mini-van. The family converse and drive for several minutes- to the point that Greg becomes impatient and annoyed.
"What the hell is this", said Greg looking over at his grandparents while cradling the meatloaf pan.
"Just watch", said his grandfather without taking his eyes off the screen.
The family on television continues to drive but run out of gas and pull over to the side of the road.
"I told you we should have stopped at that station we passed"
"Yeah yeah yeah! Everyone, stay in the car and lock the doors, and get some help." said the father of the family before kissing his palm before smacking it on his wife's forehead and leaving the van. The man began walking down the side of the highway in his bright purple sweater vest while humming random jingles and telling himself corny jokes.
The footage on the television seemed to cut and change as if time had passed, the man looked tired and annoyed. As he walked, a different random van passed by the man and threw a bottle at him from the passenger window while doing so- followed by psychotic laughter. The man, confused and surprised, looked down at the old plastic water bottle and noticed it was full of what looked like urine. The man was surprised again by the sound of tires squealing. Down the road, the van took a side turn along the highway and was coming back around.
The man began running in fear; as he searched around, the camera followed with his view- revealing that the area of the highway was fenced in on both sides. Out of breath, the man quickly tries to climb the closest fence as the van screeches to a halt along the graveled shoulder nearby. The van headlights shot directly onto the man, who turned around from the fence with the look of a small terrified animal on his face. Laughter rang out from the van window, yet the headlights blocked the viewer from seeing who was inside.
"He's like a scared little rabbit", said one of the voices while laughing.
"What do you want!" hollered the man in a shaky voice.
"What are you doing out here at this time of night?" said a different voice, a figure emerging out of the now open driver's side door.
"My-my car broke down- ran out of gas, I'm just heading to the gas station", said the man, hyperventilating from the anxiety.
"Gas?" said the first voice. Two other figures emerged from the other side of the van.
"We've got gas", said the third figure, followed by bizarre laughter.
Greg watched three men in the television footage pass the headlights and almost seemed to float towards the other man. He let out a gasp when he realized the driver of the van was Greg himself. Greg looked back at his grandparents in shock and confusion, by this point he was kneeling on the floor closer to the television.
"What the hell is this!" said Greg
His grandmother shushed him, "just watch" with an almost odd excitement in her voice.
Greg looked back at the television, only to see the video version of him attacking the other man. While violently kicking and beating the man down, who makes no effort to fight back but only sobs and pleads; Greg calmly says odd things to him.
"We just want to help you," said Greg repeatedly in a calm, happy, monotone voice.
The man begins screaming in pure terror when he truly sees the other two men with Greg, one of which is carrying a plastic red gas can. The camera to the footage again moves with the man's point of view. The man holding the gas can had no face, more so an implosion of flesh in the center of his face with only a mangled jaw protruding out of the middle. The slimy jaw flapped open and close like a puppet, spewing mucus as laughter echoed out. The man next to him had an almost plastic face with a hideous grin plastered on like paint. Various colors trail from the corners of his mouth similar to ink and slithered around the face as if it were alive. Hundreds of woodlice festered and encompassed around two moon-like spheres placed as the man's eyes.
The jaw-faced man began pouring the gas all over the now bloodied family man sprawled out on the gravel. The moon-eyed man lit a cigarette, and then lit the rest of a matchbook on fire with the same flame. The flaming matches were then tossed at the mess of blood and gasoline, followed by laughter from the three men. Flames engulfed the family man and random parts of the graveled shoulder within seconds. The camera to the video footage panned from the flaming figure and its gurgled screams to Greg who now smoked the cigarette and continued laughing as he watched the fire continue. The camera revealed the two deformed men had now vanished, as if they had never existed at all and Greg had killed the man alone.
At his grandparents' house, Greg jumped to his feet, "Jesus Christ! What the hell is this! W-who who made this! What the fuck!"
Greg looked towards his grandparents for some sort of explanation but they only continued to stare on at the television set. Greg wanted to leave; he had to get out of there. What the hell was going on? Greg started towards the kitchen but stopped for a second, he had a strange urge to take one last look at the television. It was like a horrific car crash he couldn't keep his eyes off of. Greg glanced at the screen; the Greg on television was now staring into the camera back at him. The Greg on TV began to clap slowly with a strange far off grin on his face.
Greg's grandparents both let out excited loud gasps in unison behind him, causing Greg to turn around.
"What the Hell is going on?" shouted Greg
Both grandparents and the Greg on television answered his question, again in unison, "It's time for yum yum!"
The back slider door in the corner of the living room ripped open, swarms of strange people carrying cameras and spotlights came flooding in. Greg began screaming in confusion, he tried to run but they had come in through the front door as well; he was surrounded. Greg screamed louder over the loud clapping and barks echoing from the small dogs that scurried around the room again. His grandparents continued clapping in a trance while chanting "yay" repeatedly in slow motion. The version of Greg on the television continued to clap as well, his face was now covered in growing sores, with dozens of small insects bursting out of each. The insects devoured his flesh, but all he could do was laugh. It was time for yum yum.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Satire
Category:WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT
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