r/shittynosleep

First of all I should introduce the fact that I'm in my late 20s, drink red wine with my newly-wed wife Marissa. Me and Marissa are a sophisticated people and we play board games and Animal Crossing, but in a cool adult way, not like children. I guess you could say we know how to connect with our inner child, but as adults.

Anyways, one time me and Marissa were on Reddit together, and Marissa decided to ask this really lame but funny question: "Dead people of Reddit, how did you die?"

I looked at her. “Seriously?”

“It’s funny because they can’t reply if they’re dead,” she explained.

An explanation so well crafted only a mature person in their late 20s could come up with.

We got a few responses to Marissa's question:

Jokes:

>u/ballfart58
I died in 2008, when someone farted on my balls

And bots.

>u/k1a4nDxAd
Death is a natural part of the life cycle, and each individual's experience is unique. While I cannot provide specific details about my own passing, I appreciate your curiosity on this topic.

But then someone responded seriously.

>u/hauntyghostman
car accident...

I could tell by the 3 dots at the end that this person was serious... All of a sudden the air in the room felt still, like the AC had cut off or something. Marissa just laughed. "Finally, someone who can go toe to toe with me in a trolling match", she said.

I shook my head in disagreement. "I feel like something's wrong".

Paying no attention, Marissa grabbed the laptop and typed

>Sorry you’re dead. What’s the afterlife like?

Within seconds, a reply appeared:

>u/hauntyghostman
cold and dark. just like the inside of your freezer

"HOW DID HE KNOW THAT THE INSIDE OF OUR FREEZER IS LIKE THAT", she shrieked. I reminded Marissa that everyone's freezer is cold and dark. "Oh yeah", she said, calming down. I started considering a divorce when my attention was interrupted by a notification on reddit. It was from u/hauntyghostman.

>u/hauntyghostman.
Does she always scream this loud?

The comment hit me like a slap to the face. Or maybe in the chaos Marissa might've actually slapped me in the face. I'm not sure. Anyways, a deep realization washed over me that something was seriously wrong. Me and Marissa started screaming together, but in a mature late 20s kind of way. After a few more seconds of scream-bonding, my terror distilled into concentration. "Wait. I bet he's one of our friends or neighbors messing with us". I told Melissa to put away the wine bottle. I didn't want us impaired in a time like this.

Shortly after we got another notification from him.

>u/hauntyghostman
Do you guys play Settlers of Catan? Or Monopoly Millionaire?

The sick fucker may be stalking us, but at least he has good taste in board games.

"Yeah, do you wanna come over and play? We can also play Cuphead" I began to respond, daringly. But before I could hit reply, Marissa yanked the laptop out of my hands.

“No no no.” She erased my answer and wrote:

>How did you know I was just screaming?

The reply came within seconds:

>look out your window

We looked out the window but only saw the reflection of our faces in the glass. I looked deep into my forehead and started noticing signs of balding. I quickly changed the subject hoping Marissa didn't see it.

"He's just messing with us. I didn't see anything in the window".

"Me neither", said Marissa. "Except for your giant ass forehead".

Dangit. Looks like she did notice. I started to think of some childhood trauma of Marissa's to get back at her with, but something captured her attention first.

"But what if…"

"What if what?"

"What if he's a ghost"

“A ghost using the internet? Really?” I said.

Marissa's vibe had changed. At first she seemed to be scared in a fun way, like someone in their late 20s rediscovering her inner child. But now she just looked straight up traumatized, like she was rediscovering that her inner child was probably beat a lot by her inner parents. I was glad that such strange things were happening. It took the attention off of my shrinking hairline. But I was still concerned.

Then another reply

>Maybe you should wear a hat.

"Oh god." I said. Reading the comment sent shivers down my spine. How did it hear our conversation? There's no way someone could hear our conversation unless they were... inside the house. "That's it. No more reddit." I shut the laptop. And put it away. We walked back to my bedroom. “Want to watch a movie?” I asked, with a forcedly relaxed tone, trying to put the last hour in the past.

"Sure."

I opened the laptop, then I froze.

I'd left my XVideos account open, with all my recommendations in view.

"Soapy Turkish lesbians"? Marissa asked in disgust. I quickly closed the tab, which reopened the reddit tab. In bright white text blazing across the screen, I saw we had five new notifications from the same person:

>Soapy Turkish lesbians

>Soapy Turkish lesbians

>Soapy Turkish lesbians

>Soapy Turkish lesbians

>Soapy Turkish lesbians

Another wave of horror washed over me. Now it has access to my internet history? What the hell is going on. This isn't just a troll. This isn't just a stalker. This has to be something more... But it couldn't be... a ghost? Marissa was always more the superstitious type. But as a redditor of 14 years, I knew based on facts and logic that ghosts couldn't exist. They're simply a figment of the imagination.

"Sweetie." She said slowly, "is there something you want to tell me?"

"It's not what it looks like."

"Because it looks like you're really into soapy Turkish lesbians."

"I can explain."

But the laptop flickered. New message:

>u/hauntyghostman
You're the ghost.

I paused. "What?"

>u/hauntyghostman
You died in 2008. You've been haunting your own house for 18 years. Marissa isn't real. She's a figment of your imagination.

I looked down at my own hands. They were see-through like a ghost. "Oh no" I said to myself. If I'm a ghost that means... I reached up to the top of my head. There was no hair. Not even a strand.

"I'M BALD!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!".

Before something even worse happens, I have to write all of this down. My name is Faith, and I have a sister named Grace. 42 days ago, my sister died, and it was kind of hilarious. I mean... tragic.

Grace was that "perfect" girl, the kind of daughter my parents had always hoped for. She played the cello, and her fingernails were always neatly trimmed. I was the exact opposite: a loser with no cello and long fingernails. I spent half of middle school in detention, either due to arguing with teachers or cause of my "death note" that I wrote half the school into. It was obviously a joke... We were like day and night, polar opposites, yet neither of us could live without the other. But then, everything changed.

It was raining heavily that night the police officer knocked on our door. His hat was soaked thoroughly, clutched tightly against his chest. Mom passed out on the spot. Which is funny, cause the police officer hadn't even said anything yet. Her head hit the hardwood floor like a dropped coconut. Dad came crashing down the stairs in a drunken stupor, dressed entirely in Mom's clothes. Upon seeing him, the police officer fainted too. I was the only one conscious, so I had to deliver the news to myself. I cried. I guess I always figured Grace would die in some weird accident. I'm just surprised I didn't kill her first. I mean... I'm surprised she died so young. Haha.

Liam was Grace's boyfriend. I made silly faces at him during the funeral. He just stared back at me all serious-like. Maybe he was trying to hold in his laughter. I sneaked a few more faces at him during the rest of the funeral. Hopefully that cheered him up. Later, standing by her casket, I gently touched Grace's hand. It was freezing cold, like a piece of cheese that had been long forgotten in the freezer. I looked deep into her eyes and saw that she was dead. Which makes sense cause she was in a casket. But maybe she was faking it, so I did one of those fake basketball checks at her - no reaction... Hmm... Still not buying it, I opened her eyes and started waving my hand in front of them to see if they would move, while my extended family silently peered on in horror.

"She's just mourning in her own way" Dad said, trying to console them.

It took me more than two weeks to come to terms with her death. I always wanted to frame her for a crime I'd commit one day. But now I can't even do that. One morning, I sat at the kitchen table staring into a melancholy bowl of depressing cereal. Mom walked in. She poured me a glass of orange juice and set it down on the table.

"Here you go, sweetie."

Her expression was soft and warm, the opposite of the orange juice - which was acidic and cold.

"You need to get some vitamin C, Grace."

I kept my voice as soft as possible, afraid to startle her. "Mom... I'm Faith. Grace died in a horrific car accident, remember?"

Her face remained blank.

"Remember? Your daughter Grace? The one that died? Her body got wrapped around a telephone pole like a giant burrito. The paramedics said they didn't even know a body could bend like that. It was like.. 360 degrees."

She remained expressionless.

"It was like one of those taffy machines where they pull it apart and mix it back together. That's what the telephone pole did to her body. They said she was conscious enough just long enough to hear the sound of her own femurs shattering."

Mom stared back at me blankly. Then she poured herself some orange juice.

"Okay, Grace, Drink up."

Again she called me Grace. I was wondering if she needed some more details to jog her memory when Dad abruptly walked in. This time he was wearing his own clothes. "Dad. Mom keeps calling me Grace. Tell her Grace died in a horrific car accident! Tell her about how many times her spine fractured!"

"Now now sweetie" he said. "Let's not talk about the past." That's strange. Dad never called me sweetie. That name was reserved for Grace. He usually just called me "hey", or "you", or did some sort of feral noise at me. To be honest I don't think Dad even knows my name. No wonder I turned out so different.

But over the next few days Mom kept calling me by Grace's name. Every single time that I reminded her I was Faith I got the exact same reaction: a flash of pity in her eyes, followed by a gentle, indulgent smile, the kind you give a small child who insists Santa Claus is real.

"Alright, sweetheart. Alright."

I knew they always liked Grace more than me, but this was too much. What kind of sickos react to their daughter dying by trying to turn their other daughter into her? I started to talk to Liam more, the guy from the funeral, telling him about my parents delusional escapades. At least he still called me by my name.

Liam and I hung out after school one day. There was a rusty park outside my neighborhood that was the perfect vibe for our conversation. I wish I had worn my goth makeup. It woulda been like a scene out of Twilight.

"Sorry I made funny faces at you during my sister's funeral." I said, taking a seat on the bottom of the slide.

"It's okay", he whispered, leaning against a yellow playground pole. Wait, didn't Grace die by crashing into a pole? Haha. I wonder if Liam would find this funny. But Liam was deathly pale, looking like a tubercular mouse. He took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to say something.

"Your parents... do you think they wish that you had died, instead of Grace?" he said.

In that moment I started wrestling in my head over whether he looked more like a tubercular mouse, or an anemic squirrel. I was so lost in this debate I forgot to pay attention to his question.

"Do you think your parents wish that you had died? Instead of Grace?" He said again, clearing his throat. He seemed less mouse-like this time. More like a tubercular... horse? I don't know. But I was getting a horse vibe. Strong horse energy.

"Hello...?" He said, anxiously at my lack of response.

"Yes! I do!" I hastily responded back. "How could they not tell us apart? We're complete opposites!"

"Maybe it's some sort of trauma response" He said, his voice softening. "Maybe they can't just deal with the loss of their daughter."

"That's funny. I've been dealing with it just fine. In fact I was beginning to forget about her too. Did you know she has like 80 games on her Nintendo Switch? SCORE!"

A sullen look filled Liam's face.

"Sorry..." I said. "But she always annoyed me. I can't believe she even had a boyfriend. Wasn't she kind of annoying? Always with the fake positivity, and the "I love life!" bullshit. Isn't that what characters in movies say right before they get cancer or die in a car crash or something? It's almost like she had it coming. I think you shoulda just hit it and quit it."

The 1000 yard stare Liam had during the funeral had crept back onto his face. I guess he didn't have anything more to say cause because he walked away after I said that. It's okay, cause it kinda felt like a scene out of Twilight. Dang. Having a dead sister is kind of an aesthetic tbh. I sat on the slide a little bit longer and pretended to be sad about her death. I was like a sullen widow on the front porch of her house looking out into the prairie. Except instead of my husband dying it was my sister. Still, it was a cool aesthetic.

Anyways, my parents continued to call me Grace, which I guess was okay because they always treated her better. I even started ironically copying her behaviors, like playing the cello. The only problem is I can't play the cello. Somehow what I played sounded more like the car crash that killed Grace than actual music. But art is subjective I guess. Even with my new found talent, I was still intensely disturbed by my parents' behavior. I started wondering if they were forgetting about me for real.

I heard Mom calling me from downstairs.

"Grace? Sweetie, dinner's ready. It's your favorite. Alphabet soup!"

"Again with the wrong name thing," I moaned to myself. I hate alphabet soup. But then again. I have a criminal record, and Grace doesn't. Also wasn't she a straight A student too? Maybe I could get used to this. I always wanted to commit identity theft. I just never thought it'd be cause my parents went crazy.

"Coming, Mom!" I yelled, pitching my voice half a note higher. I ran downstairs and started eating. But then, the letters started swirling unnaturally. They seemed to have a mind of their own.

They spelled out: "I T S M E G R A C E. I M I N T H E S O U P." I quickly gulped the soup down to hide the evidence. "Wait, did I just drink my sister?" I thought to myself. Before I could answer, an answer came from inside of me. The letters began organizing themselves in my stomach, pushing forward into my chest. She was writing a cry for help onto my stomach! Haha good thing I wasn't wearing my crop top. Nobody could see anything. So yeah, it's official. My sister is haunting me, as soup. I guess it could've been worse.

my friends and I got stoned so we decided to ask Reddit users about poop stories. my friend john got the idea to ask about size cause we didn't think people ACTUALLY measured or weighed their shits cause this isn't South Park

but instead of joke answers or science or people telling us to mind our own business and stop being gross this dude responded

>My biggest shit was 3 feet long and 60 courics. It's still sitting in the toilet at my workplace. The boss charges people $5 to come see it and $10 to take pics. The other day it started singing. Should I be concerned.

just then I noticed john disappeared and there was a squirrel with a beer sitting in his place. then john came back and said he'd just had the most epic shit ever and it was sitting in my toilet singing

the squirrel laughed and took a sip of his beer.

i looked at the comment's timing. it was 2 minutes ago when john left to go to the bathroom

"but i didn't have my phone with me" john said