When I first came up with this idea, I wasn't sure if I wanted to make it a straight up Creepypasta or a tongue in cheek Crappypasta. Eventually, I decided that it would be more fun to write a tongue in cheek Crappypasta. So, I was sure to include the ridiculous events and bad grammer that you might expect from a standard Crappypasta. Also, if anybody wants to point this story to Michael Leroi's Bad Creepypasta or even Tats Top Videos themselves, I honestly would not mind. Anywho, enjoy.

My name is Liam Allen. I am a normal American teenager with a definitely normal American name.

My younger brother, Patrick, is also a normal American teenager with normal quirks and normal tendencies.

My mother, Alisha, is a normal American single mother who has a definitely normal sex addiction.

We are all a normal American family. Even my father, Lucas, was a normal American father who disappeared and supposedly died by mysterious and normal circumstances. We were all so hapily normal.

But, there is always one quirk to any definitely normal American family. For me and my brother, we loved Creepypastas. We honestly couldn't get enough of them. It was almost an addiction.

But, one day, mother decided that we were not allowed to subject ourselves to such horrifying content. So, she cut us off. Cold turkei.

We were good for a while. We never snuck any Jeff the Killers or Mr Widemouths. Not even once.

Then, one day, Tats Top Videos uploaded a video.

"Any new videos," Patrick asked.

"Let's see," I pondered & scrolled, "'Mauro Gasperi's Latest Fashion Tips', 'BANGKOK OK', 'Chinese Game Show Wrong Answer Funny', 'This Video Does Not Exist', 'Bray Wyatt Destroys PS2'...

That's when I saw it. The video that would change the whole family forever.

"Check this out," I exklaimed.

"What is it," Patrick asked as he climbed over to the computer to get a clouser look.

There it was. "Tats Top Videos Top 60 Non-Gaming Creepypastas".

Now, me and my brother had watched all of Tats' other creepypasta videos. The gaming, non gaming, lost episode, and ritual videos. It was, in fact, what got me and my brother banned from Creepypastas.

But, hard be it for an Allen to destroy a tradition. Every Christmas, we watch all five "Home Alones". Even the ones with Ernest and Malcolm McDowell. Those ones suck.

"I say we watch it," I cleverly stated.

"We can't do that," Patrick exclaimed, "We're not allowed."

"Come on," I pointed out, "We always watch the latest Tats Top Video. And you know Allen's never break a tradition."

"That is true," Patrick pondered, "It is our unofficial family motto. But, it's almost two hours long and Mom will only be gone, neglecting us, for another hour, tops."

"We aren't watching it all at once," I pointed out, "We need to savor this. One entry a day."

"That would give us a new Creepypasta a day for almost two months," Patrick admired, "Alrite. I'm in. Lets do it."

No turning back now. I started up the video.

Creepypasta. A term that grew out of the 4Chan terminology copy pasta, for copy and paste text that goes viral. These modern day ghost stories and urban legends often walk that fine line between Internet fact and Internet lore.

Yeah, according to the paranoid people who believe in Roswell and sober Americans.

And some are downright terrifying.

The stories or the people who wrote them?

People around the world share their bizarre and terrifying stories, hoping that the tales will gain popularity and become classics, often quoted or cited by horror fans and frightened innocents.

Where exactly is this? 4Chan?

They're the stuff of nightmares and we're gonna take a look at the Top 60 Non Gaming Creepypastas.

How wussy are people who have nightmares about this stuf?

Cue title card.

#60. The Hangman.

Huh. I've never heard of this creepypasta before. Sounds intreeging.

The Hangman was a poem written by Maurice Ogden in 1951 and first published in 1954 in 'Masses & Mainstream Magazine' under the pseudonym 'Jack Denoya'.

Uh, that doesn't make it a creepypasta. That actually makes it not a creepypasta. Nice going, dope wads.

It's plot concerns a hangman who arrives in a town and executes the citizens one by one.

Yeah, cause the townspeople couldn't have all hanged up on him and killed him. Is this supposed to be an old western town? We don't got no hangman anymore. I don't think we even hang people anymore. We just electrocute them.

As each citizen is executed, the others are afraid to object out of fear that they will be next.

Again, there's so many things that could've been don. The whole town could've angry mobbed, dogpiled, cyber bullied, anything really.

Finally, there is no one remaining in the town except for the hangman and the narrator of the poem.

Convinent.

The narrator is then executed by the hangman, as, by then, there is no one left who will defend him.

I can think of a few people. Their names are Beretta, Smith, and Wesson.

The poem is usually cited as an indictment of those who stand idly by, while others commit grave evil or injustice, such as during the Holocaust.

Last time I checked, there were multiple people whome did not stand idly by in the Holocaust. Case in point, the individuals whom protected Anne Frank in their attic. Maybe Jack Denoya could stand to open up a history book once in a life.

Current video runtime: 4 minutes and 37 seconds.

"Well," I stammered, "I'm sure that the Creepypastas will get better as the video goes on."

"Yeah," Patrick responded, "The visuals were pretty creepy."

Right about that time, Mom pulled into the driveway. We shut the video off and ran into the living room, slunking onto the couch right as Mom walked in.

"Hey boys," Alisha greeted.

"Hi Mom," me and my sibling responded.

"What did you guys do all alone," Alisha asked.

"Oh the usual," I joked, "Fended off the zombie Apocolypse like a couple of Boy Scouts."

"Of course," Alisha responded, walking to her bedroom.

I couldn't believe it. We had gotten away with it. Usually, Mom was a bloodhound when it came to stuff me and Patrick weren't supposed to be doing. Thanks to her, I haven't glanced at a Playboy in months. I read Maxim now.

So, if we could get away with it this time, I was sure we could get away with it 59 more times. We were in the clear. I relaxed.

Then, at dinner, we were watching the news.

"Earlier today," a newsman reported, "A mysterious man hung an innocent civilians. He threatened that more were to come. Next up, how to turn your phone into a child friendly toy all children will enjoy."

"Can you believe this," Alisha moaned, "Now I have to beware for this guy. There are some real nuts out there, kids."

Patrick was being uncharacteristiclly quiet.

Me, though, was freaking out on the inside. A hangman? In real life? This could not be happening.

No. This had to be a coincidence. It had to be.

Could it?

I went to bed that night, praying the hangman would stay out of my dreams for the evening.

He did.