That Depressed Old Lady

There's only so much you can do at 6 in the morning while pumped with caffeine.
You can stare at the ceiling for 4 hours and move on with your life, watch porn or switch to cocaine. I always choose the latter. It's good while it lasts. Or maybe the last two at the same time.
Alright, with that out of the way, let me tell you about the time where the sweet face of safety hid itself behind fear and disgust and changed my life...
Forever...
I was an intern at a local county fair, learning the psychological principles of the human mind, trying to figure out our own squishy sponge between our ears, and also taking the time to take the ferris wheel for some spins, when I stumbled upon this old lady.
She looked so depressed she sucked all the happiness from me, so I wanted to slap her in the neck, but when I tried to, she reversed and DDT'd me to the floor. I thought something wasn't right, but I couldn't point my finger at it, so I got up. I asked why was she so depressed. She whispered that she'd seen "the ungodly face of evil" and that "no one is safe".
Next thing I know, she gave me a piece of paper, and on it, the following message:
"*very creepy coordinates, use your imagination. Hint: it involved a 3*"
I noticed that the coordinates were written with a black pen, and it seemed like the author was in a hurry.
Oh, yeah, the paper was made of blood. (Originality FTW)
I went home, entered Google Maps, and searched the sequence of numbers and letters, only to find a street a few blocks away from the county fair.
I took my bike and carried on his wayward. "All this...", I thought, "It doesn't make sense... What was that old lady talking about? Why did she give me the coordinates? Why me?".
I'd soon find out.
When I arrived at my destination, night had fallen upon me, and it was fucking scary, because darkness.
The street was... How should I put this...
Empty.
No houses, no street lamps, nothing. I thought I ended up in the wrong street, and got prepared to be raped by some asshole hiding in a ditch, when I saw this 18th century house.
It looked abandoned, therefore, spooky, but I put my bike down and went inside.
The door felt like it was made of Legos, so I Leroy Jenkins'd inside, and took a look around: dusty, old furniture in the middle of a cobweb infested room and some torture instruments lying around in the floor.
I explored the division, and found another door. This time, there was a hallway behind it. When I went through, the door shut itself. At this point, I felt something wasn't right. I opened it again. Turned around. Slam. Opened it. Turned. Slam. Opened. Slowly turned, but this quickly looking back. Slam. Missed it. Opened. Tu- Oh, fuck it.
There was only one door in the end of the hallway. When I got close, blood started to come out beneath it. I thought it was a glitch, so I ignored it. But when I got even closer, the blood started to consume the door, so I screamed. I wasn't going to touch that. No, no old lady would tell me what to do. I curled into a ball and a demon invaded my thoughts. For some reason.
"I'm waiting for you... Dik Dik Van Dik..."
"How do you know my name?"
But before he could answer me, he disappeared. Apparently, I was in a coma for four years. Somehow, my phone battery didn't run out so I could conveniently see the date through the calendar of my Nokia.
I was still in the same place, which was weird, and the door was still in front of me.
I twisted the knob.
And there it was.
The old lady. Wait, wha-
"Oh! You came! What took you so long?"
After that, she made tea, and we talked about our pets. She was really nice and anticlimactic, and even offered to call a cab. All she wanted was some help cutting the lawn, and seeing I was full of packs, I was the perfect candidate. My family might've thought I was dead for a while so I called them, and it was all very emotional and shit, and I went home.
After that day, though...
My phone never ran out of battery.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:WHAT A TWIST!
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:I WAS AN INTERN AT
Category:Well, that was anticlimactic.
Category:Demins and Debbils