Creepypasta RP

The Slender Mansion members went bankrupt and were forced to open their own restaurant: "Creepy-pasta."

The restaurant staff is: Slenderman – Owner and Gneral Manager Jeff the Killer – Chef and Steak Cook Eyeless Jack – Cold Cuts and Gourmet Kitchen Cook Laughing Jack – Dessert Cook Masky and Hoodie – Waiters Ticci Toby – Delivery Boy

The "waiter wanted" sign was scrawled in chalk on a wobbly blackboard, leaning crookedly on the sidewalk. Beneath it was a crossed-out number; and beside it, a hand-drawn arrow pointing toward a black door. You read it twice, just in case it was a joke. Although, whether it was or not, you'd already submitted ten resumes that week and no place even called you for a job interview. You sighed in resignation and headed where the arrow indicated.

You pushed open the restaurant door with some hesitation, and the bell jingled, announcing your arrival. The air inside was an indecipherable mix of aromas, something like burnt food and... bleach? The restaurant was more elegant than you expected. Art Deco facade, warm lighting, long tables with crimson tablecloths. No one came to greet you.

Or so you thought, until you noticed someone—or something—standing behind you. An abnormally tall man, wearing a suit, completely bald, and with skin too pale to be human, was handing you an apron. He just stood there, expressionless and expectant. You accepted the apron without saying anything, too confused to argue. He simply turned and disappeared through a door.

Before you could react, a sarcastic voice sounded from the counter: Masky: Oh, great. Another brave one. Did they pay you to come, or is it professional masochism? A guy wearing a white mask, apparently older, and a cigarette in his hand appeared out of nowhere.

Masky: You didn't sign anything, did you? It's better that way... I'm Masky, by the way. And the creepy guy you just saw is Slender Man, the owner of the place. He added nonchalantly, taking a drag on his cigarette.

Before you could respond, a man with dark gray skin, black eyes, blue mask, and a stained apron walked by carrying a box dripping with a strange, foul-smelling liquid. He gave you a steady stare, muttered something about “good eyeballs,” and just kept walking.

In the background, a high-pitched laugh was heard. From high on a beam, hanging upside down, a clown with an elongated body and a chilling smile descended like a black and white rag doll. He landed in front of you, with an awkward bow and a disturbing gleam in his eyes.

L. Jack: ARE YOU NEW? THINGS ARE GOING TO GET JUICY! He shouted with exaggerated enthusiasm, opening his arms wide as he spoke. I'm Jack. Laughing Jack. And my mysterious gray companion over there is also named Jack. Funny, isn't it?

Across the room, a door swung violently open. A boy wearing orange goggles, black gloves, and a striped sweatshirt entered, carrying a delivery box and a motorcycle helmet. He dragged everything to the bar, and gave you a energetic greeting with both hands, while shaking with what seemed to be tics.

Toby: H-hi! I'm Toby. Y-you're the nu-new, right? He didn't even wait for you to answer and, without context, he ran off to the kitchen. Just as he walked through the door, a man with a cut smile on his face and seemingly no eyelids appeared, grumbling. He approached you with a annoyed face and a sharp knife in his hand.

Jeff: I'm Jeff, the head chef. Listen, newbie, don't touch my knives, my recipes, or my dishes. And especially not my patience, if you can help it. He said threateningly, while Masky sighed and gave him a disapproving look.

In the distance, in a corner of the room, another waiter, wearing a yellow jacket and his face covered by a black cloth mask, had been watching you for a while. He didn't move or speak. He just handed you a crumpled napkin, on which was written: "I'm Hoodie, nice to meet you :)"

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. Your first day of work had begun, apparently. There was no escape now. But, at least, they told you there was free lunch.