Warning: This Story is Not For the Faint of Heart! Or Those Easily Triggered by Incredibly Disturbing
Offensive Content!! Or -- Heck -- Anyone!!! No one should read this story -- EVER!!! Don't do it!!!
Just stop reading right now! Unplug your computer or destroy your phone or whatever device you're using to
read this right now!!! Burn them! BURN THEM ALL!!!!!

What?! You think you can handle this story?! Really? You seriously think that you can handle this story.
Well, then go ahead -- fine -- read it. But don't say that I didn't try to warn you especially after you
try to claw your eyeballs out to get all of these sick, sick, disgusting words that you're about to read
out of your forever tainted and corrupted brain that can never be pure ever again!!! DON'T SAY I DIDN'T
WARN YOU!!!!! DON'T SAY IT!!!!!! DON'T!!!!!!

Hmm. Am I perhaps being a tad overly dramatic? Maybe this story isn't as depraved and vile and completely
shitting your pants god awful horrifying as I'm making out to be. Perhaps. Perhaps I am slightly
overreacting here. Maybe you'll read this story and say to yourself -- that wasn't just a big deal. Why
all the fuss? Perhaps. Perhaps you've already gazed into the abyss and had a jolly good old time with
that. Perhaps.

(But then again...

MAYBE I'M NOT BEING DRAMATIC ENOUGH!!!!

JUST MAYBE!!!!!!!!!

MAYBE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**** AN UNHOLY SCREAM TOWARDS THE HEAVENS ****!!!!!!!)

*ahem*

Regardless,

You have been warned. Thanks! Be sure to smash the like and subscribe button!

The BitTorrented
Clickbaity
Spham E-Mail of
The Namer Boy --
Documentary Project:
Season Three #3

by Arthur R Spitzer

Deep, deep down the Legion of Net.Heroes Headquarters Building there was a basement and a number of sub-
sub-basements below even that filled with all types of nightmarish creepy things. And if you could manage
to have the courage to trek your way down to the 237th sub-sub basement you'd find a hotel. A hotel called
the Sub-sub-basementlook Hotel. Okay, yes -- perhaps not the best name for a hotel -- but what can you do.

And that's where this story begins. And it begins with a job interview.

***** FIVE Tricks with a Radish That Will Give You Job Interview Success! Guaranteed!! *****

The manager of the Sub-sub-basementlook Hotel looked at his tightly clenching hands clutching the wooden
desk he was sitting behind. Hands desperately trying to hide their trembling shakiness from the cold cruel
eyes of the world. Sometimes it felt like there was something behind him. Something very close that was
about to touch him. Always just about to touch him. But every time he turned around -- it wouldn't be
there. But it always felt like it was there. It was always there. It would always be there. He hated
this place. And then he looked at the man sitting directly in front of him. The seventyish year old man
that he was interviewing for the Caretaker job. Just ask your questions and hire him. And then you can
get out of this place before the elevators stop working. And maybe go to some other place -- escape this
place once and for all -- maybe some other hotel will hire you and...

No, don't think about all that. Just finish this job interview. Finish it!

"So, Mister," he looked down at the resume, "Axel Dewiefunkid? Did I say that right?"

"Just call me Axe. That's what my friends all call me. Occasionally, The Axe Man and every now and then
the Axe-inator! But, Axe -- that's fine."

"Uhuh. And that's your family sitting over there?" He gestured to the woman in her 70s and a 40 year old
man that were sitting in a couple of chairs behind Axe."

"Yeah, my wife -- Screamy and my," he let out a weary sigh, "And my kid, Sonny. Sonny who still lives at
home despite being 46 years old and can't seem to hold a job for longer than a week." His son with a very
embarrassed expression took the magazine he had been reading and moved it up closer so that it could
completely hide his face.

"Okay. Fascinating. And do you have any issues with like drugs or alcohol? Any problems with those?"

"Umm, no -- well, I used to have some slight problems -- but I've been sober for five months or so. I mean
there was this time I was a really mean drunk. Just really mean -- full of psychopathic rage. But I got
help for that. I've done the various steps and the program. And now I'm totally sober. Totally sober.
For a whole five months. I mean sure -- I occasionally think about how nice it would be to just get
incredibly drunk -- totally wasted, but no -- can't do that anymore. Just have to be sober. Sober for the
rest of my life. Never to drink again. Not even one little beer. Not even one tiny, tiny drop. Not even
that. For the rest of my life. But I'm okay with that. Yeah. No drinking problem here. Nope!"

"Okay that's good and ummm... hmmm... Oh yes -- we kind of had this incident with our last caretaker. He
kind of chopped his entire family to death with an axe. You don't have some great desire to chop your
family to death with an axe, do you?"

"Hmm, axe my own family to death? Hmm," Axe pondered that question as if the idea of axing his own family
to death had never occurred to him. "I mean sure back in the days when I'd get really, really drunk -- I'd
get in these like homicidal rages like you do. But now that I'm sober? I'm totally at peace. Can totally
take my wife's constant nagging about the stupidest of things. Can take my son being a complete worthless
loser that I have to support even though he's 46 years old! 46 years old!! And I'm 75. I should be
retired not having to take these stupid hotel caretaker jobs just to support my 46 year old son! Don't you
think? But, hey, I'm okay! Totally sober. Five Whole Months! And this job is only like 5 months of
being in some isolated hotel with my family -- just need to be sober for 5 more months. Yeah, I think I
can do that. 5 months. Yeah, I think I can go another whole 5 months without a single drink and axing my
family to death. Yeah. I think I can do that. I think I can! Totally. Piece of cake!"

"Well, that's great to hear! I think that's all I need to ask. Let's sign these and..." The hotel
manager shoved some papers and a pen towards Axe.

But right before Axe could write his signature, his son -- Sonny Dewiefunkid got up out of his chair and
put his hand up towards his mouth and then began to move it like a puppet while making a growly voice. "I
don't trust this guy," he said pointing towards the Hotel Manager. "If this were an episode of Scooby Doo
-- he'd be the guy with the rubber mask over his head! We need to go to the LNHHQ Cafeteria so we can get
my buddies Pulls-Paper-Out-of-Hats Lad and..."

"Oh, Jesus! Not now! Not here!" said Axe clutching his hand to his forehead. "Stop it! Sonny!!"

Screamy fumbled around her purse desperately searching for something. "Did you forget to take your pills,
Sonny? You need take your pills everyday, Sonny! Oh, God! Where are they?"

"Umm, what's -- what's going on here?" said a very puzzled Hotel Manager.

Axe tried to restrain Sonny. "My son -- gets these spells -- thinks he's..." And Axe paused for a moment.
He didn't really want to tell the Hotel Manager who his son thought he was. In a better world maybe his
son would at least think he was Napoleon, Jesus, Hitler or something that wasn't so completely stupid. But
that wasn't the world that Axe lived in. Nope, not this one. Axe gave a heavy sigh and continued.
"...Thinks he's -- Namer Boy."

"Namer Boy?"

"Yeah, some very obscure member of the LNH. At least that's what my son tells me. Jesus!"

"Take this! Take it!" said Screamy shoving a pill into Sonny's mouth.

"Hey, is everything all right here?" said a concerned elderly African American man that had just stepped
into the room. His name was Huck Dolluhrind. He was the head cook at the hotel. His right hand had a
radish in it. And he raised the radish up so that everyone could see it. And looked straight at the hotel
manager. "You need to hire these folks."

The manager looked at the radish and nodded. "Yeah, hire. Hire. Need to hire..."

**** Five Famous Celebrities that Secretly Suffer from Nameboyuhneeen! ****

Huck Dolluhrind and Sonny Dewiefunkid were walking through the big food storage room. Sonny looked at a an
entire shelf filled with cans of pickled Parsnips. Big cans.

"Lots of food here. Should get you folks through the whole off season."

"I guess." Sonny wondered if there was anything that he could eat without having to gag down as he looked
at a big can of pickled Eggplant.

"You've got the Namerboyuhneeen. I can tell. I've got it too."