For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…

I used to not believe….


it was a shitty day, overcast, and i was in Los Angeles, selling humboldt county pot. i was making a killing just selling to random people on the street. then i met this guy, seemed nice enough. he wanted a dime bag, and i produced the bag. he produced a knife, requesting all of my money and pot. im not stupid, and that knife looked damn sharp, so i did the whole “what the hell is that?!?”, and bolted like a scared bunny. he chased me, for what felt like five miles (probably only half a mile) before i was able to ditch the creep by hiding in a dumpster in an alley. after just laying there for what i guess was about fourty five minutes, i climbed out to find myself in one shitty neiborhood, and utterly lost. the sun was starting to look like it was going to go down soon, so i started walking, hoping to see a landmark i recognized. thats when i saw the homeless man. he was laying on the ground making a grunt/gurgling sound, so i went to see if he had been shot. this information would tell me what kind of neiborhood i was in. as i approached him, he turned to face me, and i froze in fear. it looked like he had eaten his own bottom lip and a couple fingers on his right hand looked like they had been ripped off. at this sight, i suddenly shouted “what the fuck?!?” which caught the attention of a middle aged woman, who came running from inside a building. (i have a feeling that she was new to those parts.) she went up so him and said a few profane words, then went to help him up. i yelled “dont! stay back away from-” it was too late. he lunged out with a speed that would rival the strike of a cobra, and ripped a gigantic chunk from her chest. she let out a scream that i can’t even begin to describe, and, to this day, it eats at my mind and soul, but i ran. no, i sprinted. i didn’t stop until i somehow, by the grace of god, made it back to hollywood. i found the hotel room, and told my friend all about it through teary eyes. he called me a liar. told me to stop sniffling. a day and a half later, i saw on the news that a “gang war” had erupted leaving everyone involved dead. a total of seventeen. i recognised the buildings. it was the same area that i had been in. i know what happened, and i never used to believe, but now i do. zombies are amoung us.

Credit To: Micheal Thomas

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  • Shogunfish

    This was a pretty meh pasta. Your grammar was better than many on this site but the story just didn’t stand out. I am having trouble thinking of suggestions, partly because this story was so short. Paragraph breaks would have been nice though.

  • ClockworkLizard

    Are you sure he wasn’t just high?

    Wait, better question: Were you high when you wrote this?

  • The Operator

    I used to not believe that pastas could be this shitty.

    I was wrong.

  • Capitalization

    So you’re selling drugs, a man tries to rob you, you jump into a dumpster, for whatever reason you awake in some sort of slum, you see an old man that partially ate himself, a woman comes, for some reason the man killed the woman immediately after she came even tough he didn’t kill you immediately. Then you run to hollywood, tell the story to your friend, he says you are a liar, and for some reason a gang war that you see on the news has ANYTHING to do with a ‘zombie’.

  • Alfred Frederick Dinglebottom

    Man sells drugs, man tries to steal drugs from other man, man runs, man hides in dumpster then meets a scary tramp who eats himself then attacks lady.

    Good story.