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Written by uTonical.


Hello. My name isn't important. Neither is my ASL: Age, Sex, Location. What is important however, is this anecdote I am about to explain in full detail.

Lost 90s Commercials (CreepyPasta)

Lost 90s Commercials (CreepyPasta)

The 90s was the best decade in the history of the world. I loved anything and everything pertaining to the 90s. I owned several Super Nintendo Entertainment Systems, Sega Genesi, (plural by the way), Game Boys, and 5 Virtual Boys. I had almost 100 different VCRs that I swapped out every so often for some casual television enjoyment. I had a vast VHS collection, including a never before seen version of Toy Story. All of my appliances and furniture were from the 90s. All I ate is Lunchables and Yoplait Trix yogurt. All I drank is Crystal Pepsi and Surge.

After passing my 34th kidney stone this month, I went to go check YouTube on my classic Lenovo Thinkpad that I rigged to be able to browse the inferior "modern" World Wide Web. I was in the mood for some nostalgic 90s commercials to cure my chronic depression and take my mind off of my perpetual existential crisis.

I found one of those commercial compilations that I could sit back and relax to. It was titled “NEW 90s COMMERCIAL 2017 COMPILATION (NEVER BEFORE SEEN ON YOUTUBE)”. I was so excited that my fanny pack started to rise. I soon realized I just got an erection under my fanny pack. So I grabbed a Lunchable and a Crystal Pepsi and hit “Play” on the video. Oh, do I regret that decision. Oh God do I.

The first of many odd things to ensue is that it immediately went into fullscreen, like something hijacked my laptop the moment I hit play and put the video on fullscreen. The first commercial was pretty normal. It was a commercial on Quaker Oats starring good ol’ Wilford Brimley, you know, DIABEETUS.

He started off with normal dialogue. “Oatmeal’s a great choice to get your day started.” Then he pulled out a syringe and gave himself a shot. Drugs? Wilford Brimley took a drug shot on camera during a commercial?! “It’s insulin dumbass. I have diabeetus.” HE SWORE IN A TELEVISED ADVERTISEMENT FOR OATMEAL? “Insulin’s an even better way to get your day started.” He moved his mustache around. It then faded to Wilford laying on a bed in a dimly lit room, covered head to toe in insulin needles. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he chuckled. “Just doing some acupuncture.” The camera zoomed out to show a human-sized can of Quaker Oats placing the needles in Wilford’s skin. It wasn’t a costume, it looked too damn real to be that. This commercial’s been going on for too long.

It then faded to Wilford and the can of Quaker Oats eating breakfast the next day. The oat can got a package in the mail. The mailman threw the package at the can’s “head”, and he fell backwards with the force. Bringing the package in, I noticed the package said “Liberty Medical” on the label. The Quaker can opened the package only to find a note inside that says “YOU HAVE DIABEETUS” in thick red Sharpie. The can looked shocked, then looked downwards, forlorn about the news. Wilford started speaking. “You know what else,” he inquired. “You’re a can of oats eating oatmeal, you sick f**king cannibal.” The camera zoomed into Wilford’s mustache. Then the camera panned out to the can of oats.

The can of oats let out a deafeningly loud scream, so loud that turning the volume down to 1% was still far too loud. He screamed and screamed away as Wilford just sat there wiggling his mustache. The Quaker can got out a .357 magnum revolver, and shot himself. Wilford was just sitting there eating his bowl of oatmeal. Ultra realistic oatmeal poured from the oat can’s fresh wound as he slumped to the ground cold, unmoving, dead. Wilford took out a ladle, scooping up some of the oat can’s innards, plopping them into his bowl before throwing in some brown sugar and blueberries, and began to eat them. The camera zoomed tightly into Wilford’s face as he winked at the camera, wiggling his mustache around as the commercial faded to black.

I decided I have had enough and went to get out of the video, but my laptop wouldn’t let me. It was frozen while the video was still playing. I couldn’t even bring up the slider bar to see how much time was left. So I was just forced to sit and watch. The next commercial was on a movie that was coming out by Walt Disney Pictures by the name of Kelios. It was just a shot of a beautiful green field for 20 seconds before the words “Walt Disney Pictures presents: Kelios” slowly faded in. Painfully slowly. Then the words “coming to theaters June 18,” before the picture became too fuzzy to see what the year was. This puzzled me greatly, especially since if it’s a Disney film, I’d know about it, but I’ve never heard of a movie from Disney called Kelios. I googled it after the compilation was over, but all I got as results were one of those stupid fake creepypastas. Now, you may be thinking that this is a creepypasta too. No. This is all 100% real. From the horse’s mouth, I have never lied to anyone in my existence. Lying is for losers.

The next commercial was about Jell-O, starring Bill Cosby. “INTRODUCIN’ JELL-O BLOOD POPS!” Bill enthusiastically shouted at the camera with eyes as big as basketballs. “ZIP ZOP ZOOBITY BOP!” He begins slitting his wrists and lets the blood pour into a Jell-O brand ice tray. He grabs a frozen blood pop and gives it a taste. “TASTES LIKE WHAMMO JAM FLIM FLIGGITY!” He begins rapping about Jell-O blood pops as he does the Michael Jackson crotch grab and several poorly animated 3D skeletons dance behind him. “JELL-O GOT A NEW POP THAT’LL ROCK YOUR SOCKS AND WON’T STOP, THEY’RE CALLED THE BLOOD POP, AND THEY’LL SURELY FLIP YOUR TOP! FLIMITY FLEW, COO COO KA-CHOO, ONE FOR ME AND ENOUGH FOR ALL OF YOU!” He ends the commercial by doing a split, ending the song, but unfortunately for Bill, he couldn’t get up after doing the split, so he just sat there for another 5 seconds, the camera fading out as he grew razor sharp teeth and horns.

The last commercial was probably the worst of them all. It was a McDonald’s commercial. It started off with Ronald McDonald in a dark room eating a Big Mac. “There once was a man from Nantucket, whose d**k was so long he could suck it. He walked down the street, swinging his meat, carrying his balls in a bucket.” What the hell was that limerick? He laughed so hard, he started choking on his burger. Blood started oozing out of the fast food clown’s mouth as he coughed harder than I’ve ever heard any human cough before. He did one last big cough, coughing up a human child. He then chopped the child into pieces before frying some flesh and innards in a pan, and placing it all between two buns. He then stepped out of the dark room, into a bright, colorful McDonald’s. He served the sandwich that looks exactly like a Big Mac to a tall pale slender man in a suit with no face. Somehow though, the faceless man was able to communicate. He asked Ronald “Where is my large blood?” Ronald handed the slender man a large cup of blood and the weird man started scarfing back the burger and finishing his drink with no mouth. What I saw was 10 minutes of a man with no face smearing a burger made of cooked child insides all over his orficeless face, and poking the straw of his cup on his face.

It then cuts to a nearby table where a man is munching down on some french fries, but upon further inspection, he was about to eat a box of severed human fingers! I was genuinely disgusted. The unsuspecting man bit into a finger, quickly reeling back and spitting it out. “What the hell is this?” he shouted. Ronald stepped into frame, insisting that they were “new” french fries. The man tried running away, calling Ronald a sick f**k. Ronald caught up to the man, grabbing him and picking him up, breaking his spine over his knee. “YOU DESERVE A BREAK TODAY!” Ronald screeched as the body slumped over in two separate angles.

Ronald then caught several children in the playplace, kicking each other through the tunnels, throwing used diapers and spitting at each other in the ballpit. Ronald took a bite out of a Big Mac, supposedly his power source, before saying under his breath, in G major, “f**king little s**ts.” He stormed into the playplace at blazingly high speed, grabbing every single child and devouring them whole. He then stepped out of the playplace, looking as normal as ever, then said “Well, back to business!” The classic McDonald’s logo appears at the bottom right hand corner of the screen as Ronald rips an earth-shaking belch that goes on for 10 seconds, the commercial fading out, effectively cutting his belch short.

And with that, the compilation was over. The video stopped, and I started to smell something funny after I heard what sounded like something hitting the fan of my laptop. I lifted it up off my desk, and there lay a big f**king turd where my laptop was. My fucking laptop just took a huge s**t. Well that’s just f**king great. I got the mess cleaned up, and went back to my laptop. It was oddly off, and refused to turn back on.

I was flipping out before I realized the battery had just popped out. I put it back in and powered it on. It had upgraded itself to Windows 10. I didn’t give a s**t anymore. I was done being a fanatic of the 90s. I threw out all of my 90s memorabilia, and sold the rest of my Crystal Pepsi for $1,000,000,000,000 ($999,999,999,999 and 99 cents, with 1 cent shipping). Some stupid f**k was dumb enough to buy it and made a YouTube video chugging it and then projectile vomiting all over the place. Oh, what some people will do in the name of fame and 90s nostalgia.

As for myself, I’ve gotten with the times. I bought myself one of those iPod things after getting rid of my Walkman, upgraded to a flat-screen TV, got a PlayStation 2, and a DVD player. I’d say I’m a lot happier now with today’s technology, or at least I think it is since I used to see advertisements for all of these things before analog television got cut off.

I was playing Resident Evil 4 on my PS2 when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole to see who it was, and to my surprise, there was Ronald McDonald, Bill Cosby, and Wilford Brimley at my door, playing Rock, Paper, Scissors as they waited for me to answer. I immediately thought of the compilation I saw the week prior. Trying to convince them that no one was home, I decided to sneak out through the back door. While making comedic tiptoes to my back door, I heard a deafeningly loud noise coming from the other side of the house. Apparently, Ronald and Cosby used Wiford as a battering ram to bust through my front door. I immediately gave up sneaking and bolted to my back door. Ronald caught up to me however, with the supersonic speed his clown shoes he wears gives him, that he seemingly recently painted to look like Sonic the Hedgehog’s sneakers.

“What’s the rush, Gerald?” Ronald spoke with a gay lisp. I wasn’t necessarily surprised he knew my name, since I now believed anything can happen, having three notable people show up at my door. Bill Cosby walked slowly towards me, holding a dagger and an ice tray, smiling big and large. I shouted “BILL, YOU DON’T WANNA DO THIS, YOU’RE IN ENOUGH LEGAL TROUBLE AS IT IS!” Bill became enraged and threw a comically large pill at my face, into my mouth and down my throat. I immediately passed out.

I woke up sometime later, strapped to my desk chair, wrists slit, body covered in insulin needles, and a Big Mac made of children’s organs staring me in the face with Ronald holding it, with a hideous, s**t-eating grin on his face. Bill Cosby and Wilford Brimley were having small talk across the room over a couple of blood pops… made from my own blood. Ronald said ‘Open wide, you disgusting 90s sack of s**t.” I refused to open my mouth. Ronald took one of his clown shoe-clad feet, and stomped on my foot. I screamed in agonizing pain, as Ronald shoved the disgusting human sandwich into my mouth. I immediately threw up, all over his big honky clown shoes. Ronald flipped the f**k out. He screamed like a banshee as he went to clean his shoes. Bill Cosby went to go help Ronald as Wilford got up, approaching me. He observed my situation very closely for a good 30 seconds before speaking. “You sir are indeed in quite a pickle.” He then materialized a giant can of Quaker oats, holding my mouth open and dumping the entire can of oats down my poor throat. I choked, and choked, and choked some more. I got a big clump of oats down my windpipe, getting stuck as I started trying to breathe. My airway was hopelessly clogged.

As I sat there, gasping for air, I started to see my vision going dark. Wilford was cackling something absolutely diabolical as things continued going dark. The last thing I saw before passing on, was Wilford’s big moustache, wiggling and wiggling away as he watched me suffer and perish at his hands. Then, a picture slide appeared saying “In loving memory of Gerald Stevan: 1992 - 2017” and displaying my tombstone, with Ronald McDonald pissing on it. The music was the most gut-wrenchingly somber thing I had ever heard. Then everything completely faded to black.

I closed my laptop and went to bed.

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