The Carpet Man
I have a real one for you guys that happened to me when I was a kid in the early '90s, but it's so perfect as a creepypasta, I might as well just post it here.
I grew up in a place called Orem in Utah, which was (and still is?) essentially a Mormon suburbia. I don't really want to get into a religious discussion, but I can say at least that no, I'm not a Mormon, despite growing up as one (not my choice obviously); I disavowed the church at a very young age.
Anyway, on Sundays, on the car ride home from Church, with my Mom driving, Dad in the passenger seat, and Sister and I in the backseat, this awful radio ad would always play for "The Carpet Man," a housecleaning service.
I'm pretty sure the normal jingle was pretty innocuous (although I can't remember it), but whenever it was around a holiday, they would play these alternative, tongue-in-cheek, holiday-themed jingles for example (as best as I can remember them)…
"The Carpet Man is here to stay.
Won't ya let him come in to play.
See under his hat, you'll begin decay.
The Carpet Man is here to stay.
"The Carpet Man is here to clean.
He won't ask twice, if you are mean.
Let him use his special machine.
The Carpet Man is here to clean.
I hated those jingles, fucking loathed them actually. I'm pretty sure the company has been defunct for many years now, but seriously, fuck that guy. The rest of my family would sing along and laugh, but it scared me pretty badly. I was too young to have any concept of marketing, and when ads spoke to me on TV or the radio, I was pretty susceptible to them. I remember having recurring nightmares about it like clockwork, every Sunday night. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, having peed the bed.
In my nightmares, The Carpet Man (who I imagined looked something like the Bob's Big Boy mascot, only in a painter's uniform: https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2783/5802921445_8e4f82bc7c_o.jpg | https://i.pinimg.com/474x/b9/a4/81/b9a48110b1e2b1e46d1fd40aff713364–portrait-photo-house-painter.jpg) would terrorize me, trying to get into my room through the door, windows, vents, electrical outlets, etc., trying to check if and asking me:
"Did you clean your room?!"
His voice sounded like it was coming from the car speakers, and the speed and pitch would go up and down between high and low, almost like someone was messing with the radio dials.
My parents were good parents, but they did use physical discipline methods, and looking back now, I feel like the nightmares were probably my adolescent mind's way of working through my fears of getting hit if I didn't complete all my chores, and finish them well.
As an adult, I'm pretty OCD about making sure everything is clean and organized "properly," and I would imagine this is why I have those personality traits.
That's it; I grew up, moved to a different state, mostly forgot about it, and now live a relatively happy and comfortable life. Just thought it would be fun to share that creepy little memory with you. 🙂
Submitted November 10, 2018 at 04:33AM by CarpetManJingle