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Creepypasta Riffs: Clockwork: Your Time Is Up

Dorkpool March 28, 2015 User blog:Dorkpool

If you've been reading these Riffs, you know that there's one story that's been hanging over them for a while: "Clockwork: Your Time Is Up." This story details one of the more infamous Jeff OCs, Clockwork, a character who is in some ways stupider than Jeff the Killer (seriously, say what you will about Jeff - and believe me, I've said a lot - but at least he didn't sew a clock into his eye. I mean, come on, that's pretty stupid). I've wanted to Riff this story for some time, but couldn't because of one teensy tiny problem:

I couldn't find a way to copy and paste it.

Sure, I could find the story, but only on Wattpad, which wouldn't let me copy the damn story, and there was no way that I was going to manually copy it. I tried looking for it in other places, and found a version of it on the mobile version of Wattpad (which I accessed from my computer). However, it wasn't the real story. Eventually, I just decided to find the real Clockwork story, open it in mobile, and just copy it. Which I did. And, after reading and Riffing it, I regret doing. Anyway, let's set our timers, and Riff this bitch! (Er, no offense, Clockwork)

A little girl sat in her room.

(Narrator): She could’ve stood, but she’s kind of lazy.

Her messy brown hair were put into little pigtails, as her hazel eyes stared at the door. She hugged her stuffed giraffe close to her little body,and listened closely to the loud yells of her father and mother.

"I never should have had any damned kids! " Screamed a loud, deep voice.

I’m probably going to agree with you by the end of this.

"All they do is make messes, complain, draw on the walls-" He was cut off by the high, angered yell of the girls mother.

"Their CHILDREN, David!

Wait, the kids have kids? Oh, wait, that’s a typo. Good going, story.

They don't know any better! "

"Oh fuck me Marybeth!

I don’t think she wants to, buddy.

I DON'T want to hear your bullshit excuses! I've had just about enough with them!"

My opinion of Jeff the Killer knockoffs.

"And what do you plan to do about it?!"

The girl heard loud footsteps coming towards her room, and she hugged her giraffe closer. The door was violently opened, and in the doorway stood her large, angry, overweight father.In one of his meaty hands, he held a large textbook.

(David): I’m going to teach you economics!

"David, stop it! " Screamed her mother.

But the father ignored his wife's pleading cries. He grabbed the little girl by the collar, and she screamed and kicked, trembling and shaking in fear. The girls father harshly held up the textbook.

"This is for drawing on my fucking walls, you little bitch!"

Yes, that’s it, possibly get blood on your precious walls, you asshole. You’re going to die, and I really don’t feel bad that you will.


Years later, the little girl, known as Natalie, was now 9 years old.

(Narrator): How many years, you ask? Shut up, and don’t ask questions.

Going through the stage of puberty,

I don’t think anyone goes though puberty at age nine.

she was naturally a little chubby. Like the usual, she sat in her room, watching TV. Her dad was ranting on about some economic crap that she really could give less a shit about,

So she does care about the economy!

as she munched on some popcorn.

She was also currently drawing a picture. There was a bit of gore in it, but strangely, she really liked drawing blood.

Rob Liefeld: The Early Years

It gave her some weird satisfaction. Other than that,multitasking was no problem for her. It became apparent to her at a young age, after having to do so much hard work and labor,that she was able to do so many things at once.

(Narrator): For example, she could draw, go through puberty and piss off her dad all at the same time!

Drawing ended up being her talent and passion. It was her way from escaping from reality, whenever something bad would rear it's ugly head and peer in, or when she was simply bored.

She suddenly heard the closing of her door, and looked to the left, pausing on munching on her popcorn. There stood her brother Lucas; who was 14 years old.

Isn’t Lucas that kid from “The Wizard”?

"What is it?" She could still here her fathers yelling from outside her door. "Dad scaring you?"He let out a chuckle.

"No way. I think were both used to his yelling by now." There was a long pause."So, why are you in here."

(Lucas): The plot forced me to come here!

He seemed to play with his sleeves slightly, and twitch a bit. "I have to ask you something."

(Lucas): Do you want to build a snowman?

He trained his eyes on her. she frowned slightly, growing impatient with her brother interrupting her movie and drawing.

"What." He moved a little closer, "You said you wanted to be cool, and grow up like a teenager, right?" She nodded, slightly brightened up suddenly.

"Well, I have an offer."

"Just spit it out you dimwit!"

"....You know what...what guys and girls do together sometimes, right?.."

Taxes? Dancing? A merry sing-a-long?

The next day at school, Natalie did not say a word. She did not speak for the whole day. she didn't have anyone to speak to anyways.Nobody could know. Nobody SHOULD know.

And yet we’re probably going to find out. Whoopty-flipping-do.

And so, nobody would know. her teacher picked up on a few of her puzzled expressions, but she dismissed it as if she just did not understand the lesson. Natalie also felt as if she was in severe pain. She had no idea it could..hurt.

No, trust me, bad Creepypasta stories definitely hurt.

Feeling scared, she walked home and silently went to her room. But later in the day, she was once again greeted by her brother.

Nobody, would know.

At school, she finally decided to tell someone. Even though they weren't her friends, she just felt she had to. She walked up to the group of girls she would occasionally see in the hallway. They looked like nice girls, and them and Natalie had occasionally talked before.

"Hey...Mia.."The ginger girl looked over at Natalie, having a straight face.

"Yeah?" "I uh..Really need to talk to you about something.

(Natalie): You ever feel…not so fresh?

It's been going on for a while, and you and your friends...Well, I feel like your the only people I can trust. Mia and her friends seemed to pull little smirks,but only for a moment. Little did Natalie know, that they were hungry for gossip.

How trustworthy.

"Alright, you can trust us. what's up?"

Oone day later,

As opposed to one day later.

was all it took. She had been getting constant remarks on social networking sites, such as Facebook. One time, someone even called her a whore. Not to mention they're lunch had ended up getting in her hair. It was going to be the least of her problems, but Natalie, being only 9,

Wait a second…they’re calling a nine-year-old girl a whore? Really? That’s just low.

could not help but be greatly upset at this fact.

However she did not cut, she did not peep, and she never said a word about it.As you may recall, so far in this journey, she had kept everything inside.

Really? I didn’t know that. You never mentioned that until now.

she supposed it was better. she wouldn't let any pain get the best of her.


3AM. School night. Her mother was going to kill her.

Well, that would end this story pretty quickly.

The girl known as Natalie, was now 16. She was productive in high school, close to the honor role.

The author of this story, however, was not.

For once, she felt calm and happy.Though like the usual, she would occasionally become a 'hermit' in her room, hiding away from her dad who still liked to constantly yell and baby about economy, and money, and politics, and all of the bullshit that she was flat out tired of hearing.

(David): Obama is a communist who wants to take our guns so that Al’Qaeda can kill us all!

(Natalie): Dad, stop watching FOX News.

(David): 'Murica!

Her eyes started to feel heavy. She had an assignment to work on- but that was no longer important to her. All that was on her mind, was sleep.

Totally not a reference to Jeff the Killer at all.

She closed her laptop, and after her eyes adjusted to the darkness slightly, she saw her old, worn down stuffed giraffe in the corner. she stared at it, in complete and utter silence. memories passed through her mind,

(Narrator): …like her Vietnam flashbacks.

and she felt tears come to her eyes. But quickly, she blinked them back."No more breaking." she thought to herself. But she continued to stare at it. "What the fuck are you looking at." She said to the stuffed object.

(Giraffe): A girl who’s talking to an inanimate object.

It simply stared back with soft, black beady eyes. she shook her head, and stood up. She looked down sadly at the little toy animal, and gently picked it up in her arms. She cradled it, and spoke softly to it.

"I-I'm sorry..."

(Natalie): …but you have to die.

Some tears ran down her face. She pet it's rough short fur softly, as she lied on her bed. she slowly went to sleep.

She was woken up by the angry growls of her mother. She tiredly opened one of her eyes. "I can't believe I forgot to take that laptop away! You were on it all night, weren't you!"

(Natalie): No, it was the giraffe, I swear!

Natalie sighed and pressed her face deeper into the pillow, hugging her giraffe closer. Her mother sighed, and walked out.She took a shower, brushed her teeth, ate some breakfast.She then got dressed. She put on a grey/blue hoody, with fur on the inside and the hood. it wasn't her favourite, but it was the only one she could wear to school,

And the one she’ll probably wear when she snaps.

due to the others being in the wash. She also put on black jeans and some thin 'fashionable' boots.She then finally went down the stairs to get driven to school. She hopped in the car, and her mom sped off towards the school.

However on the way there, due to lack of sleep, she slowly put her head against the window of the car and started to drift off. her dreams; or nightmares I should say,

Narrator, you’re not Deadpool. Stop breaking the fourth wall.

consisted of her physical abuse as a child. secondly, the sexual abuse from her own brother, Lucas, that lasted for 4 years before she had the guts to turn him off.

Oh, incest, lovely. Well, at least we now know this story takes place in the south.

She started twitching and cringing in her sleep. But her mother took no notice. Her mother never took notice.

(Natalie): Mom, I’m on fire.

(Mother): Ok, dear. Whatever.

She was suddenly sharply awoken by the sound of her mother.

"We're here." Having an annoyed tone, most likely from her sleeping. she looked at the large sign of the school that read, "Walkerville-collegiate institute for the creative fine arts." She sighed tiredly, and stepped out, putting her back pack on her shoulder. "Seeya." She proclaimed,

What an amazing proclamation.

closing the car door.

She walked into the school, and chatted with a couple friends, until she went up to her locker on the third floor. She grabbed her books, and before the five minutes of time was over, she ran to class.

Her English teacher annoyingly put her hand on Natalie's desk.

"Where's your assignment miss Ouellette?" Natalie swallowed.

(Natalie): Up your ass, teacher.

"I uh- forgot it at home. Sorry,miss Homenuik." She growled and stood.

"Your time is up, miss Ouellette.

Hey, look, clumsy foreshadowing!

Don't disappoint me." Natalie seemed puzzled by the thought for a moment. She didn't know why, but those words seemed to melt through her. She simply ignored it, and went back to listening to the lesson- falling asleep not to long after,of course. Later that day, she was heading to her locker for fourth period. When suddenly, her boyfriend Chris came up to her.

"Hey, to me after school,alright?" She smiled, loving to talk to Chris.

Though strangely she didn't suspect anything. he was always such a sweet guy. During her French class, she dared not to pay attention.

Natalie Ouellette is Steven Seagal in Daring Not To Pay Attention.

Instead, she doodled the thing she loved to draw. Blood, gore, people being stabbed, knives, and macabre things of the such. Other people would say it was pretty dark of her to draw such things, but she saw nothing wrong with it. For a strange reason, it actually felt like a normal thing to her.

Damn, I already used the Rob Liefeld joke!

"Miss Ouellette."

She quickly covered her doodle on her paper and looked up at her French teacher quickly, trying to hide her fear. "Uh- yes Mr.LeVasseur?" He gestured for her to move her arm, with a slight turn of his head.

(Mr. LeVasseur): Do you think my name is French enough?

"Show me your work." She hesitantly moved her arm, to show the picture of someone getting stabbed by an insane man. The teacher stared puzzled, looking at her a bit. She smiled nervously.

"Erase that, and get started on your work." he said in a strangely calm voice. He walked away, and she sighed and began to erase the picture.

"And miss Ouellette," She looked up at him slightly. "Your time is almost up on getting your work done.

The writers of “Gotham” read this story, and said, “This is how we foreshadow things!”

I suggest doing it now. she growled at the remark. time always seemed to be against her. As far as she could care, time could go fuck itself.After class, she walked out of the school to find her boyfriend standing near the fence on the sidewalk. She smiled and walked over, hoping her day could at least be cheered up by him. But as she walked closer, her smile slowly faded. He wasn't smiling back.

"Chris-what's wrong? What did you want to talk to me about?" He sighed.

"Natalie, I think it's time that we..should start seeing other people." She felt her heart break.

(Chris): What I’m trying to say is that we both need glasses.

"But-why?" He gave her a bit of a stern look.

"It's your mindset.Your drawings, they just...Creep me out. I think there's really something wrong with you.

Yeah, she’s a Jeff the Killer wannabe.

And the saddest part is, is why you haven't told me why you're acting like this.It makes me feel irresponsible.So, I just.....Can't do it anymore. I'm sorry." And with that, he began to walk away.

(Narrator): But then he tripped and fell on his face.


Natalie slammed her hands on the bathroom counter at home. she stared at herself in the mirror, her eye twitching. "I-I won't hurt myself like the others-I can stay strong-"

There was a needle and black thread in her hand.

"It's pointless; it doesn't help." Some weird sensation pulled at her subconscious. She chuckled slightly.

"No...I'm doing it, because I WANT to." She held up the needle with thread on the end of it, and she smirked widely.

"Time is up."

Piece after piece, cut after cut.

Even though excruciating pain was going through her, she did not whine. She did not whimper. She did not cry.

(Narrator): She did bleed a lot though.

There were no more tears to shed. All she did, was smile. Blood leaked from the pierces, and made a low dripping noise into the sink and onto the counter. When she was finished, she stood back and admired her handiwork. she stroked the horrendous stitches on the sides of her mouth, that spread into a wide smile.

(Narrator): And so, Natalie decided she would become the best Joker cosplayer ever!

She felt the warm, wet blood on her fingers,and licked it gently, consuming the metallic tasting liquid in pure ecstasy. She stopped when she saw her mothers reflection in the mirror behind her, and sharply turned around.She saw her mothers wide eyes and pale face, and she looked at her fingers, seeing the blood. She suddenly felt the pain. and she started to cry. "Mom??"She had never felt so confused. What had just happened to her?

It’s called puberty. It’s perfectly natural for girls your age.

(Natalie): But I went through puberty when I was nine.

You’re a freak then. Congratulations!

Her mother had scheduled some therapy for her. Natalie had not gotten rid of the stitches, in fear of how much pain it would bring. So, she went to the therapists with them. She made sure her hood was up, as not to let anyone see. She sat down on the comfortable leather seat, and stared at the blond woman across from her in silence. "So your names Natalie, isn't it?"

(Natalie): Bitch, it might be.

Natalie just nodded.

"I'm Debera. And I'm here to help. Now tell me, what have been some of your problems recently?" Natalie stared.

(Natalie): Well, I feel like I’m living someone else’s life…

(Debera): That’s because you are. You’re living Jeff the Killer’s life.

"Time. Time has been my problem." Debera gave her a confused look.

"What about time dear?" Natalie's hands roughly gripped the leather of the seat.

"Everything. It makes you live through it, slowly progressing through life, being controlled by society, only to be tortured for seemingly to no end until you find you no longer have a purpose. It's a viscous circle. Time does not end, it does not slow down, it does not speed up. It is violent. It makes you live through the torture over, and over again, unable to fast forward away from it."

She must be fun at parties.

Natalie really had no idea what she had just said. She felt like she wasn't herself anymore. Could this be because of...All the things she had kept contained? No, it was impossible. But for some strange reason, she....Liked it.

(Narrator): It turned her on.

The therapist leaned closer. "Sweetheart, I want you to tell me what's happened to you." Natalie still stared. There was a long pause. she smirked slightly, the pierces from her stitches slightly opening again. "Why don't you tell me blondie-Your the expert." Debera seemed to have a bit of an annoyed look." I can't help unless you tell me what's wrong, Natalie."

The grammar?

Her fingers started to tear into the leather seating.

"Natalie isn't here anymore."

(Natalie): She’ll be back later. Please leave a message after the tone.

With that, Debera's eyes widened. She got up.

"I'll be right back. Please, stay here." She walked out, leaving Natalie alone. Maybe if she had done something at this point, she wouldn't have come to be what she is today. Maybe more people would be alive.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to read this crap.

And maybe, she would be sane again.

As much as I would love to, I would admit that she got up from that chair, and stopped this all from happening. But I'm obligated to give you the horrid truth.

No, no you’re not. You're just a dick who wants to continue this story.

Natalie did not move. She sat perfectly still, perfectly silent, and perfectly calm in that chair. And after a while of waiting and impatience, her parents finally walked in. she stood, happy to go, but she noticed her parents expressions.

(Narrator): These expressions were a combination of disappointment and boredom.

even her father had a strange saddened look on his face. Her confusion grew, but she said no words, and followed them to the car. On the way where she thought she was going back home, she started to drift off.

Strangely, she heard a dark voice speak in her dream. It almost sounded like herself, echoing into eternal blackness.

"Your time is up."

She shot awake, some beads of sweat rolling down her face.

She wasn't home. She wasn't in the car.

(Narrator): She was in hell!

She was in a bed. a white bed. In a white room. she looked to her side, seeing she was hooked up to a heart monitor. She went to get up, but suddenly realized she was bonded down.

She panicked. She started to struggle, but paused hearing a door to her left open. A man in a white shirt looked at her, his hands behind his back. he almost looked like one of those cliche doctors you would find in some scientific lab.

Really? That’s the only thing you’re willing to admit is cliché?

She paid full attention as 'Mr.Scientist' started to speak.

"You must be very confused right now, I can imagine. But I'm letting you know were only here to help.

(Mr. Scientist): Trust me, the lobotomy will be really helpful.

Your parents agreed to sign a contract to give you some mental drugs to hopefully help your state of mind." She opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly silenced.

"You don't need to worry. You'll be back to normal in no time. Just try to relax." He walked over, and she tried to skittishly move away, but couldn't due to the bonds of the leather straps around her wrists and legs. he carefully took a mask, and put it over her mouth and nose. She stubbornly tried to get it off, but felt herself starting to slip under the drugs, and her eyes slowly shut.

And suddenly,


she woke up.

She couldn't comprehend what the hell she was seeing.

“The Cell” in a nutshell.

she was being given multiple injections, even some things were rubbed on her skin. she felt woozy, but was completely aware of her surroundings. She was entering a rare state in which some patients go through while undergoing surgery. They are able to see as they are being worked on, they can feel the pain, their brain is active but they cannot respond. However, she was able to. Her heart rate on the monitor started to speed up, and the doctors took notice of this. they looked at her, seeing her opened eyes.

(Doctor): God damn it. Can the patients please stay unconscious? Ugh.

One of the doctors was yelling at another. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline. She slowly started to slip through her bonds, shaking violently. One of the doctors was going to hold her down, but was suddenly hesitant of doing so, and all three of the doctors backed away. She sat on the edge of the bed now, and ripped off the mask and tube from her arm. She got up, and started to stumble towards them.

(Narrator): However, she fell down on her face, cracked her skull, and died. The end!

her breath hitched, and her vision was blurry. She could make out herself giving off a couple insane chuckles. But suddenly, she felt a searing pain in her chest. she gripped where her heart would supposedly be, and dropped to her knees. She coughed blood, and fell to the floor completely, blacking out.

She woke up slowly and groggily after that. She was back in the bed. the doctor was sitting beside the bed.

"Something went...Horribly wrong."

I love it when a story describes itself for me. Makes my life easier.

She didn't know why, but she felt a tremendous amount of hatred towards the doctor. He took notice of it and looked away.

"You weren't supposed to wake up while we were giving you the doses for your mental state. We aren't sure how it affected you...

(Doctor): But we think it will make you batshit insane.

But we have a feeling were going to find out." He paused for a second, before taking out a small mirror, not looking at her. "It happened to have an affect on your appearance as well."

(Natalie): What do you mean?

(Doctor): You’re ugly as hell.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and her eyes widened. Her eyes..They were..Completely green. She noticed she still had the stitches in her mouth as well. But for some reason, she couldn't help but feel...happy.

Oh no, she’s caught the Pharell Williams Disease! Run for your lives!

Her heart rate started to increase again.

She gave out a low chuckle.


The doctor looked in shock, seeing she was suddenly already standing over him.

"Doctor..." she said, still chuckling.

he trembled slightly, pressing a button from under the monitor "y-yes?"

Why is he trembling? She’s some teenage girl, and he’s an adult male who probably has guards and orderlies around to help him.

"Your time is up."

A loud scream was heard through the halls of the apparent 'hospital'.

Wait, it isn’t a hospital? Then what the hell is it? A movie set? A delusion? Tell me, story!

Two security guards rushed into the room, kicking open the door.

Blood. was the first thing they saw.

(Narrator): The second thing they saw was Natalie doing the Harlem Shake.

blood on the walls, on the bed, on the floor. Hell, even on the ceiling.

(Natalie): Like what I’ve done with the place? I felt it needed a new paint job.

Natalie Had taken the doctor, and strapped him down on the bed. his spine was completely snapped, as the bed was bend almost into a sandwich, likely from the adjustments someone could make to it.

Yes, people can adjust the bed in such a way that it crushes someone to death. Of course!

blood poured from his eyes, nose, mouth, and just about every orifice of his body. And there, in the corner, was the murderer. Happily drawing her gruesome pictures on the wall in blood, followed by the phrase 'your time is up'. She slowly turned to look at them, a wide crazy grin spread across her face.

"Hello friends...W-would you...Like to play?

Ok, no more catchphrases! You already have “Your time is up.” You don’t need another one.

ha...hahah...HAHAHha.." The guards quickly pulled out guns, when suddenly she charged at one of them, being able to dodge his bullets.

Let me get out my phone…Hello, bullshit? Hi, it’s Dorkpool, just wanted to talk to you. Oh, you're busy? Sorry. Bye.

She grabbed a large knife from a sheath onto his pocket, and slashed it right across his waistline. blood and organs flooded out, and he collapsed to the ground. She inhaled deeply, loving the damp stench of death. The other shook with fear, and dropped his gun.

Instead of, you know, shooting her while she was gutting the guard.

She slowly walked up to him, and placed the tip of the knife at his chest.

"Your time is up." She slowly slid the knife down his chest, all the way to the end of his gut. His organs spilled out onto the floor as well, and collapsed, dead.

Hospital security, everyone!


Natalies mother was silently sleeping in her room next to her husband. She awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. she groggily got up and walked out of the bedroom, to the front door. It was completely pouring outside, and thunder boomed in the distance. She walked up to the door, and paused when she was about to grab the knob. There was...A faint sound of insane laughter.

Joker, what are you doing here? Go piss of Batman or something.

The rain and thunder seemed to become quiet suddenly. She pressed her ear against the door, and listened closely.

"Hello, mother."

(Natalie): Hiya, mom! How are you? I’m good, just batshit insane.

Natalie burst through the door, wielding two knives in hand. Her mother stumbled back, hitting her head against the coat rack. one of the hooks broke into her skull,and she bled violently from the back of the head onto the floor.

Congratulations! You fail!

she fell to the ground paralyzed, but still conscious. Natalie towered over her, but slowly knelt down to meet the level of her eyes, and showed her two knives covered in a thick red blood.

"I was suffering, mother...."

Join the club.

She ran the tip of the knife across her cheek, cutting it slightly. Natalie tilted her head. "But you did nothing."

Um, yeah she did. She sent you to that mental hospital so that you could get better. And she told your father off when he was bitching about having kids.

All her mother could do was shake, and gasp constantly like a fish on land. Natalie grabbed her mother, and gently set her down so her back was laying flat on the ground. She proceeded to sit on top of her, and start to make a V-cut on her chest.Her mother only gasped and shook, but her breaths started to seem choked and gurgle. Natalie knew she didn't have much time left.

Yeah, or else her time would be up. Come on, you were all thinking it.

She proceeded to forcibly open her chest cavity with a loud CRACK, and reached in and grabbed her mothers heart as it slowly beat in her hand. It's pulses were growing dimmer and dimmer.And suddenly, she ripped it out, blood spraying all over her face. She stared at her mother directly in the face as she slowly died.

"Sweet dreams" She said to her mothers corpse. "Your time was up."

(Natalie): But it’s not anymore. So you still have time! Yaaaay!

She put the heart into her mothers mouth, patting her cheek softly, and stood up. She wasn't done yet.

Oh, there’s more of this story. Yippee.

Natalie's father, David, had stirred awake and realized that his wife had not returned yet. his eyes started to adjust to the darkness, when he suddenly realized Natalie, standing on his bedside, smirking crazily with her green eyes glowing in the darkness. Blood was all over her, and the scent was unbearable.

Why are all serial killers unhygienic? What’s with that? Why can't we have a serial killer who smells like lavender and vanilla?

She put on a fake sad face.

"Oh dear....Mothers gone...I wonder who will get the money?


HHahahaahahHA...." She suddenly grabbed her fathers forehead.

"That's all you ever cared about, anyway." Her father, however, was a fighter, and he sprung up and grabbed her by the neck, and threw her to the ground. He started to stomp on her chest until she coughed blood, and he stared down at her.

I usually don’t root for abusive parents, but I’ll make an exception here if it ends the story faster.

"D-Doesn't it feel good, daddy? h-hahahaha-" She coughed up more blood. "A-After all, you never seemed to mind doing it all those years ago, didn't you?" He narrowed his eyes.

"You aren't my daughter." A wider smirk spread across her face, and she looked at him with her glowing eyes, as blood dripped down her mouth.

"You're right. I'm not."

You're not the father!

She suddenly tripped him, causing him to fall hard on the floor. She got up,knives in hand.

"They say the bigger they are, the harder they fall." While he was winded, she grabbed a pillow and stuffed it in his face, and started to stomp on his face, harder and harder, hearing loud cracking noises after a while. when she pulled the pillow away, his face was gruesomely mutilated, and he was making muffled noises and crying in pain.

"What's the matter daddy? Pain too much for you?"

(David): No, it’s just that I can’t breathe.

She stabbed both knives into his stomach, leaving them there for now as she ripped off one of the large heavy wooden poles from the bed. she set it down on his legs, and took out here knives.

"Gonna need these." she chuckled, and sat on the pole laid on his legs. Suddenly, she started to walk back while sitting down. the weight from her body on the pole slowly started to squeeze his innards up through his body. He started to gag, and blood poured from his mouth. His breath was silenced, and she hit a bit of a snag. "hhrm, come on!" She snarled as she forced herself to walk back with more weight. suddenly, his organs burst out of his mouth.The nasty gore piled onto the floor on the sides of his face. She nodded to his carcass, and started to walk out.

Hi, Bullshit, me again. I know you're busy, but I had to talk to you again.

"Your time was up, daddy."

finally, this would be her favourite part.

(Narrator): The roller coaster ride.

She quietly snuck down to her brothers room, silently opening the door. blood dripped from her knife, making a low tapping sound as the droplets hit the hard wood. her brother wasn't in bed. It was apparent that he must be hiding somewhere. She grinned.

"Oh dear brother, come now..."

(Lucas): That’s what I was doing all those years ago!

She started to walk inside.

"All I want to do is to have a little fun. ahahahaHAAHAHAahah!" As she stepped in more, she listened closely for any sounds. Any breathing, any moving, she even sniffed the air for his putrid scent. And the closer she listened, she finally noticed something. A faint, breathing noise...


She fell to the ground, trembling. her brother was behind her with a now bloodied baseball bat. He was glaring down with anger, panting in rage. She tried to slowly get up, but he hit her again, and again, and again.


Wait, he did the do with his sister because he had mommy issues? Freud is going to have a field day with this guy.

He hit her hard one last time, before taking a breather. She was bleeding heavily, her green eyes drooped and glowing faintly in the darkness. She felt weak, and looked closer up at the ceiling. She recalled the days she had spent in here, being tortured, having to go through it for 4 years.

Tortured? Does Lucas end up becoming Christian Grey?

looking at that same damned ceiling. It sent a sudden rush of energy into her body, and she started to stand, laughing insanely.


Her brother went to hit her again, but used both of her knives to block it.

"YoUr GoInG tO hElL bRoThEr!!!"

Doomsayer! I need you to do your weird talking thing to show how it’s done!

FuCk OfF.

Fine. Douche.

With a large push, she sent her brother flying on the bed. He hit his head against the wall and growled angrily, about to lunge at her, when she stabbed the two knives into his arms keeping them pinned on the wall. He screamed,and struggled rapidly.

"Let's see what we can use here..." She started walking around the room, and smirked seeing a simple butter knife on his bed side. She picked it up, and walked over to him.

"They say that the eyes are the softest organs on the body..."

(Natalie): But eye wouldn’t know.

She slowly licked the knife.

"Soft as butter." he looked in horror, trying to get away, as she started to dig out his eyes with the knife. He shrieked loudly, and she quickly tied a cloth around his mouth. "Now now, we can't have you waking the neighbors!" He wasn't able to see anything. the pain was unbearable.

Hey, look, the story is describing itself again.

blood leaked violently from his eye sockets. He would cry, but was now incapable.

"Hmm..." She dug around for more items, and picked up a pair of scissors. She walked over to him, crawling over him."I think you need to cut loose brother~" She stabbed the scissors into his gut, and he cried out in a muffled scream of pain.

Really? You don’t cut off his balls or penis first? For the love of Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man, this guy had sex with you against your will! I think a neutering would be a kind of poetic justice.

She treated him like arts and crafts, cutting through his skin like paper. She lifted up his large intestine, and smirked wickedly.

"You know what I love? Macaroni art."

You know what I love? Good writing. Shame I’m not seeing any on display here.

She started to cut the intestine into sections. "These might be a little too big to put on a plate though."She could hear his brother foaming blood from the mouth. however, he had to swallow the blood back because of the cloth around his mouth. "Doesn't that taste good?~"She licked his blood off her fingers. "I sure know I like it." He let out another muffled scream. She went down to his toes and started cracking them and ripping them off. One by one. After a while, his screams grew futile.

Resistance is futile.

His throat was raw and bloody by now. Next, she worked on his fingers. snapping them and ripping them off slowly. The gurgling became louder, and he started to squirm. He was choking on his own blood. She pulled the cloth down, and blood poured from his mouth. and turned his head to the side and vomited violently. "There there brother." She said, patting his head. "Eat this and feel better." She stuffed one of his fingers in his mouth,making it jam into his throat.

That’s the body part you’re making him eat? Like I said, his penis would be much more fitting.

He choked, and slowly died.

"Your time was up."

You realize that you’re using your catchphrase incorrectly, right?


The girl, known as Natalie, walking into her room dripping blood. Off to the corner, she saw it.

Tim Curry, get out of here. You’re better than this.

Her stuffed giraffe. She knelt down, and stared at it. then, without a word, she stood back up, and walked to the bathroom. Staring at herself, covered in blood, she heard a faint ticking noise. She looked down, and saw a pocket watch.

She stared at its hands slowly turning, listening to the ticking for what seemed like an eternity.

she took out one of her now red knives

They used to be periwinkle, if anyone’s curious.

as it heavily dripped blood onto the counter. She grabbed the pocket watch, and disassembled the watch until only the small clock was left.

"Time makes you live through the torture." She said, slowly bringing the knife up to her eye. "Slowly progressing through life, being controlled by society."

(Natalie): We’re being controlled by the man!

She started to slowly dig it in to her eye, as the vision in her left eye grew blurry and red "until you find you no longer have a purpose." She felt her eye start to relent from it socket, blood pouring in the sink.

"It's a viscous circle." She felt it dangle out of her socket, a sharp pain where it was connecting in her head

"Time does not speed up, it does not slow down, it is violent."

Who are you even talking to?

She grabbed onto the cord of her eye, and tore it right off, the eye falling in the sink "It makes you live through the torture over, and over again." She started to place the clock in her eye.

"unable to fast forward away from it." There was a squishing sound, and drips of blood, until it seemed like the clock fit perfectly in her socket.

"I am Clockwork."

And…the end!


Well, this story sucked, but-


The young 16 year old girl, used to be known as Natalie, walked away from her burning house.

Damn it.

The flames engulfed everything.

and inside, the giraffe slowly burned, along with the carcasses of her family.

Ok, now it’s over. Finally.


Some say, she still lives on.

Oh, come on! Just end already! ENNNNNNNND!

Carrying her insanity with her. Leaving so many dead, saying she decided when their time should come to an end.

That time: 11:46 am.

the only way to detect her presence, is if your cuddled close in the covers at night. sleeping soundly. But in the darkness, she watches. She determines.

You hear ticking.

(Narrator): There's no one around, and your watch is dead. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot her. Clockwork.

and you see a green flash of that putrid clock eye.

(Narrator): The clock eye that she regrets putting in her eye since it makes it harder for her to see.

if she is there.

you know, your time is up.

Ok, are you done now? Is that it? Ok, I think it’s done.


I don't think there's enough words for "crappy" in any language to describe how bad this story is. It's extremely long, probably one of the longest stories I've Riffed, and rather than using a lot of that length to develop a lot of the characters, quite a bit of it is used to introduce useless characters or describe blood and gore. Also, the spelling and grammar are atrocious, with the writer forgetting how to capitalize words, and misspelling quite a few. There's also the fact that the story is pretty cliché when it comes to Jeff the Killer knockoffs.

That being said, there are some good points. Unlike Jeff the Killer, Clockwork's descent into madness is somewhat understandable. She has a crappy home life, got molested by her brother, and had her boyfriend break up with her. This makes a bit more sense than Jeff's descent into insanity, which was basically a weird feeling and dumbassery coming together. Also, there were some good ideas in play here. Actually, most of the Jeff knockoffs do have some good ideas in play. They might've been interesting characters, except that they all have a similar origin story. A lot of the characters have some cool schticks, and, in the hands of a good writer, might have become good and memorable characters. So, while there are some interesting ideas in play in this story, they're buried under a mountain of crap. A very large mountain of crap.

So, what do you guys think? Is the story good? Is the Riff good? Do you wish my time was up? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

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