Hte spagheti monstur

This is an excerpt from a diary written by a former spagheti factory worker.


I finally got a job, woohoo! Some place called the spagheti factory was hiring, and I need some money, it was like, $300 a week! Just for looking over some stupid restaurant? Yes please! My shift starts next monday, I sadly got the graveyard shift, working 1:00 AM through 9:00 AM. Oh well, money is money.

Day 1


My first day wasn't bad, they introduced me to the place and sat me down in my office where a bunch of monitors were present. No real activity went on, besides some bugs that crawled around my office.

Day 2


Not too bad, I did see a leftover plate of spagheti however, it seemed a little strange since they usually clean up all the plates by the time they close. I shrugged it off, it looked pretty tasty.

Day 3


This night was a bit frightening, some crazy woman came up to the door and started shouting: "I NEED SPAGHETI, I NEED SPAGHETI". I told her we were closed, and she stood there for another 10 minutes before finally deciding to leave. I did see a little packet in her pocket though, it was probably drugs.

Day 4


My only friend that worked there died, he was apparently strangled to death while in the kitchen when working next to the spagheti pots. His funeral is in a week.

Day 5


I am hearing strange noises now, it is freaking me out. I hear this thing that sounds like ayy lmao in a very distant voice, the voice is indistinguishable, there was also a mountain of spagheti in the kitchen. They never pile the spagheti, only put them in different pots.

Day 6


Tomorrow is my last day working there, and I am glad. That spagheti mountain has gotten bigger and bigger, and starts to take on a human like shape, I will see what happens.

Day 7


I have no idea what is happening, the spagheti mountain just flopped over, and is beginning to take shape. The spagheti sauce is now hyper-realistic blood, and it has developed hyper-realistic eyes. It is walking upstairs, it knows where I am. I guess this is the last time I write in this diary, or do anything. I should have just quit yesterday, shit, it's getting closer. If anyone finds this, tell my family I

= ''These are the final moments of Roberto Luckington, who's funeral was held on June 23rd, 2013. The police are still trying to find the entity described in this diary.'' =