Creepypasta

BURGRR ENTRIES

Entry 1

I don't know if any of this is going to get through to anyone. If it does, it's probably because they wanted it to, in which case, I'm really sorry. Maybe they just don't even care; maybe it doesn't matter because there's nothing we can do.

If you're anything like me, you've seen some weird new shit around town, and more importantly, you've realized it and you've remembered it while everyone else goes about their day in ignorant bliss. I don't know how far it goes, but so far, nobody has shown any capacity to register what I'm saying. I can spam it up and down the internet and I don't get one relevant response. Nothing. I've considered that I might just be crazy, but even crazy people can get some sort of reaction; someone will at least try to humor them, calm them down. I've tried doctors, police, professors, they all just stare off into space when I start to describe this shit, like something is actively blocking the exchange of information.

My biggest fear isn't even that I'm all alone. My biggest fear is that I might still only perceive bits and pieces of something bigger, or worse, that my capacity to perceive all this is shrinking. I can write it down, I can record every last detail, but it's not going to matter if I become like everyone else. I could wake up tomorrow and look at my journal entries and only see a pile of mysterious cake recipes. Who the hell knows.

The first thing I ever saw was one of the pick-up windows. It was just like any other you might see at a fast food place, but it was right on the side of my own god-damn house. Nothing amiss indoors, but outside, half the block was lined up on my front lawn, reading over a glowing menu full of scribbly-looking gibberish and receiving their "meals," if you want to call them that, almost instantaneously. They all acted like it was their usual, mundane lunch stop. Even while the mail lady sucked some rancid looking glop out of a plastic pouch, congealed blood dripping down her chin, she told me it was the "best she'd ever had." All my questions were met with those blank stares and stupid smiles. I couldn't tell who or what was actually handing out the food, or where it was coming from. I could only see blackness...at least, that's how I remember it. Maybe I saw something else, but it's gone now. God. And it was only the beginning.

All the restaurants in town, the real ones anyway, are typically deserted. Employees still show up to some of them, but they don't even realize that no customers are stopping in. Some of them even host new windows, parasitically siphoning off all their business. The things seem to multiply constantly; I've seen them indoors, outdoors, on houses, on trucks, even one on a tree. A window to nowhere on the trunk of a fucking tree dispensing deep-fried slop to an ignorant gaggle of hikers.

Near as I can tell, all of the products are meat, or some vague semblance thereof. I can't always tell what kind of animal or even what kind of body part it used to be. I've seen things that could have been dredged from some black, godless deep-sea trench, gelatinous slabs of flesh in blindingly unnatural colors, fried bugs just slightly larger than any I thought existed.

It isn't just the windows, either; I've started seeing this shit right on supermarket shelves. Foreign-looking packages with that same gibberish language on it, occasional bouts of quasi-English like "NUMBER A MILLION TASTE!" or "IT CAN DREAM A GREAT FLAVOR!"

It all has the same stupid logo on it, too. Sometimes burnt right into the cuts of meat. A bug-eyed, cartoon hamburger in a little chef's hat. Sometimes it's winking. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes it only is after I've looked away.

There's even people sucking down the shit on live television. The talking heads come back from commercial licking blood and grease off their hands. The weather lady shows up looking like an extra from a slasher movie, red stains increasingly thick on a blouse. I don't think she's changed in weeks. Nobody else cares. Nobody thinks anything is odd or new or different. Nobody but me.