Celtic took a long draw from his joint, moaning as if he had a thousand orgasms just by doing it. He sat in front of the computer in his basement. You know, the basement he had resided in ever since his father got sick of him shitting in his Pull-Ups and moved him down there in order to keep the house from smelling bad when guests came over. Celtic didn’t care. He had the Internet, a vast technology of communication, information, and the source of Celtic flipping shit and cutting off one of his fingers.
He smiled with the satisfaction of the high, continuing to monitor the Discord server he had joined that consisted of Trollpasta Wiki users. He continued to join and shitpost about the 3 things that give his life meaning: weed lmao xd, nukes, and Fallout. He continued to do such despite the fact that most everyone on this chat fucking despised him. But with the dangerously unhealthy amount of toxins entering his body that “gave him a high,” he really was oblivious to it for the most part.
The quiet chat was also inhabited by Sard, Celtic’s nemesis. The funny thing is, Sard didn’t truly hate Celtic as much as he hated her. However, Celtic was convinced that she was a Japanese bitch slut asshole fuckface shit whore dumbfuck mcgee and constantly started arguments with her while convincing himself that he did a right thing.
Sard was posting about some metal song that she hated. This angered Celtic. Like, really angered Celtic. Bruce-Banner-without-the-muscle-or-actual-cool-shit angry. “You bitch,” he said aloud. “I love that fucking song!”
Celtic began to proceed to call Sard a Japanese bitch slut asshole fuckface shit whore dumbfuck mcgee. This, of course, prompted an argument, where Celtic continued to sperg at Sard over her not liking that song. “I’ll show her,” he muttered, a smirk of satisfaction showing on his face.
SG got tired of it and banned Celtic before he inevitably flipped shit and left the server for the fifth consecutive time.
Celtic’s joint went out and he didn’t even notice. He stared at the screen in shock. “But… I was in the right…” he said (he’s never in the right though, he’s too far left for that) as he continued to stare vacantly at the screen.
His parents heard an autistic screech like never before. The basement windows shattered. The cows stopped giving milk. The chickens stopped laying eggs. Moonman became Sunman. Cats and dogs lived together. Mass hysteria.
His mother walked toward the basement door, yelling down to a still screaming Celtic. She opened the locks on his door. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.
She had only gotten over the smell of shit and weed when Celtic hurled a weed powered nuke at her forehead.
The good news was that Celtic knew jackshit about nukes, so it acted more like a powerful cherry bomb than anything. The bad news was that the weed powered nuke was powerful enough to kill his mother. The stench of the weed also caught the attention of his father, who stopped being a deadbeat enough to care for his son.
He barely even realized his wife was dead when Celtic threw himself up the basement stairs. Yes, he was still screeching. He grabbed his dad by the throat and threw him against the wall. His dad retaliated with kicks because the last time he won a fight was in the seventh grade. Celtic grabbed his leg and broke it instantly, sending his dad reeling to the ground. Celtic finally stopped screeching at this. A wide smile broke out across his face, but then a puzzled look replaced it as some dominant male voice commanded Celtic…
...to FINISH HIM.
“Uh, shit.” Celtic scratched his head, trying to remember that overlong combo.
Down, right, left, down, X…
His father, who was sitting up to face Celtic, dropped to the ground dead.
“FUCK REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
Celtic immediately set fire to the garage of his house and stole the family car, speeding away as the 49 different kinds of drugs in his basement caused the house to collapse.
“I’m gonna kill that Sardine bitch,” he yelled, speeding down the highway. He weighed his options carefully, then sighed with relief. He realized then what he had to do.
“Climb to the top of the mountain with the blue flower?”
The fuck? Jimmy, this is my story, let me tell it.
“I thought that was the answer to-”
No, it isn’t, dumbfuck. He’s gonna go to San Francisco harbor, hijack a cargo ship, and take it to Japan. From there he’ll track down and kill Sard.
“That’s stupid.”
It’s Celtic.
“Fair point. Oh, when are you finishing those 19 creepypastas you’ve been working on?”
Get the fuck out already.
Anyways, Celtic began his drive to San Francisco, and he met many people along the journey. You don’t want to know who they are and what importance they had on their life because he killed them when they said they didn’t have any weed lmao xd to sell him. Besides, that would take more effort to put into this.
He arrived at San Francisco before long and began his master plan. Stealing weed from anyone who owned it, he snuck on down to the harbor. Or at least tried to, because the crowbar shop clerk Kyle (let’s just call him that) recognized Celtic from the news. “Hey, aren’t you that guy I recognized from the news?” he asked Celtic as he ran by.
Celtic said nothing, preferring to smoke a cigarette and fuck up his body even more. “Uh, probably,” he answered after a long, awkward silence
“What did you do?”
“Nuke China. And say some really retarded ‘philosophical’ shit that nobody in chat gave a fuck about. And praise the shitty and irrelevant Celtic civilization. And smoke weed. And play Fallout. And sperg. And be a retard in general,” Celtic responded.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna go kill Sard by hijacking a cargo ship.” He began to walk away.
“I might have to call the cops, though,” Kyle called after him. “You’re a felon and all.”
Celtic responded to this by throwing a shitton of nukes all around him. The entire San Francisco bay area was literally on fire. “I’ll show them!” Celtic yelled over the roar of the blaze. He then proceeded to sprint towards the port.
The police came out and responded to this nuke shit rather quickly, because Celtic’s an idiot and forgot fire was hot, causing him to burn badly and look like Darth Vader if he completely fell into the lava flow. And he couldn’t stop screeching in pain. All the cops had to do was look for the druggie that was literally boiling, stunk of drugs, and was screaming “REEEEEEE” as if he found some sort of rare Pepe or noticed chicken tendies off in the distance.
Eventually, though, he reached the port. He tried to hold off the police by throwing nukes, and it worked long enough to get him onto the cargo ship about to leave the port. He threw a nuke at the captain, which, fortunately, was far enough away so that Celtic’s Manziel hands undershot by about 50 yards or so. He then ran, flailing his arms about, planning to simply storm the bridge.
“STOP!” the police chief said. “COME OUT HERE WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”
“It’s alright,” Kyle said. “I know what to do.”
He cupped his hands and shouted, “I’M REPORTING YOU TO THE FBI, DUMBASS!”
“OH GOD FUCK OFF ASSHOLE REE REEEE FUCK YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU I’M GETTING THE KNIFE REEEEEE I’LL KILL MYSELF BEFORE THE COPS GET HERE OH GOD FUCK YOU I’M GONNA AN HERO AND MAKE YOU ALL WATCH ARE YOU FUCKING WATCHING ANIMEFAN OH GOD MY HEART 18 YEARS OF SMOKING IS GONNA MAKE ME FUCKING BLOW AAAAAGGGHHHHHH NEGRON NEVER GETS IN TROUBLE FOR THIS”
As Celtic continued to rant, the police moved in to apprehend Celtic. They asked him what had happened in his life to cause this carnage.
“AAAGHHHHH IT WAS THAT JAPANESE BITCH SLUT ASSHOLE FUCKFACE SHIT WHORE DUMBFUCK MCGEE SHE’S ALWAYS BEING A BITCH TO ME FUCK HER I NEVER START ARGUMENTS FUCK THE KUHNIGGER TOO THE FUCKING COLORADAN MOTHERFUCK I NEED A CIGARETTE SMOKING ISN’T BAD FOR YOU THAT’S A LIBERAL LIE FUCK YOU I’M NOT A LIBERAL BECAUSE I LIVE IN CALIFORNIA LIKE WEED AND VOTED FOR HILLARY FUCK ALL OF YOU I’M LEAVING FOREVER UNTIL I COME BACK AND ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
The police then proceeded to shoot Celtic in the head in order to free him from his great burden that is his life. He died instantaneously and was reincarnated as a marijuana plant.
The moral of the story? Don’t do drugs. Do dinner!
...
Also, 3,851 people died as a result of Celtic’s nuke attack.