Frank Rizzo
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2014
I figured that. I was just curious as to what these characters were if she was able to win a court case about them.
Personal Lolcows - Lolcows in your personal life.
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I figured that. I was just curious as to what these characters were if she was able to win a court case about them.
- Joined
- Nov 10, 2014
The cousin in a state I used to live in, she doesn't have regular computer access and only mantains a tumblr handle in a library after school. Don't know what she's been up to
I have more stories if anyone is interested
Back when I used to live in a certain state, I used to see my mother's side of my family regularly, my aunt has a daughter that she practically abandoned and dumped on my grandmother, so she's destined to be spergy especially since she coddles her. She was obsessed with Hetalia and Invader Zim, kind of a weeaboo but for british culture. (Mostly because of her obsession with Hetalia's personification of the United Kingdom) and Homestuck. A couple of notable things is stealing her grandma's credit card to buy cosplay wigs and not getting in trouble, breaking a limb and getting concussed because she went to a Super Smash Brothers recreation club, throwing a shit fit because she couldn't dress up as England from Hetalia in said club, which she supposedly got clinical depression from and her grandma withheld her from going to school from. Stealing fish from seafood dinner's at a pier restaurant to feed stray cats, and uploading porn to flipnote hatena. (a DSi was the only piece of technology she had regular access to) The next couple things are pretty big.
A teacher at her schools was giving out kittens, and of course she took one. When her grandma came to pick her up, she guilt tripped her to keep it. Keep in mind she's allergic to cats, but OK, that's not too bad. especially since when it grew bigger it lived outside most of the time. A few months later. there was another cat of the opposite sex being given out, she took it and named it David Mitchell and started forming a relationship with it. Her Grandma came to pick her up, and Sadie refused to leave unless she got the cat. She didn't stand for this and went home. Her Uncle picked her up. Within weeks the yard was full of cats, then the cats started to get sick then they started to inbreed (you know how having an obnoxious amount of animals goes). One day her grandma was sick of this shit and filled the car with cats and drove off, sadie threw a mean tantrum, kicking and screaming. She dropped off the cats in some ghetto. (She did this with a dog and a goat too.
A teacher at her schools was giving out kittens, and of course she took one. When her grandma came to pick her up, she guilt tripped her to keep it. Keep in mind she's allergic to cats, but OK, that's not too bad. especially since when it grew bigger it lived outside most of the time. A few months later. there was another cat of the opposite sex being given out, she took it and named it David Mitchell and started forming a relationship with it. Her Grandma came to pick her up, and Sadie refused to leave unless she got the cat. She didn't stand for this and went home. Her Uncle picked her up. Within weeks the yard was full of cats, then the cats started to get sick then they started to inbreed (you know how having an obnoxious amount of animals goes). One day her grandma was sick of this shit and filled the car with cats and drove off, sadie threw a mean tantrum, kicking and screaming. She dropped off the cats in some ghetto. (She did this with a dog and a goat too.
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2013
I must hear the goat story. No way it isn't hilarious.
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2014
Please tell us the goat story, this is priceless
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2014
I think I may have found one of my own
Her name is Emmy. Now to start off, I met her when I was goofing around with my friends in this back room at college where we go and play video games, card games, watch tv, etc. and we were just talking and goofing around, Somehow I ended upquoting The Ugly Barnacle in Patrick Star's voice(I don't know how we got there honestly). So as soon as I finish this girl looks at me, screams and then breaks down crying. I ask her what's wrong, and she won't answer, so my friend whispers to me that she has an irrational fear of Spongebob Squarepants for some reason and it wasn't my fault that I didn't know. So then the next week I'm hanging around the back room before heading out to rehearsals for a play after grabbing a bite. So I'm more or less alone with just a couple other kids who just left to grab some food themselves. Emmy shows up and wants to sit down on the couch I'm using. Now to put it bluntly, she's a very big girl. I didn't think I'd have enough room to sit down, so I went to find another chair so she could sit and set her bags down. So as soon as I start to get up, she insists that I sit with her. I figured that I may as well be polite and I sat back down. So while I'm eating, Emmy leans on me and tells me that I smell nice unlike other guys who have a "musky smell to them". I uncomfortably thank her for the compliment and continue eating. So then she wants to start a conversation about where I'm from, what my major is...typical ice breakers. I figure I may as well humor her and engage in conversation briefly. She remembers that I was the guy who apparently scared her by immitating Patrick Star the other day. I asked her why she was afraid and apparently she got drunk one night and watched a Spongebob video where he was some psychotic killer and she had some kind of PTSD( reminded me of those stupid "triggers" tumblerettes bandy around). So then she tells me I'm a nice person and demands that I give her my phone number and I probably made the biggest mistake ever giving it to her. At that point I had grown increasingly uncomfortable and I just point blank asked her if she was hitting on me, and she said yes. I told her nicely that I wasn't interested. Then she goes on about how it's because I'm into "skinny bitches". I ask her what gave her that idea, and I got a sob story about how she couldn't get a boyfriend in high school because they all wanted skinny bitches. So I nicely told her that I just wasn't interested in a romantic relationship. After that I just got up and left the building for rehearsals. I didn't care that I was getting there early, I just wanted to get as far away from that girl as possible because I was just uncomfortable with how forward she was. I decided to engage in conversation with her and she practically took it as a marriage proposal. What's worse is, I'm not the first guy she has done this to, but that's a tale for another day.
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2014
You're not the first, huh? I got a story like that
That reminds of this girl that was hitting on me all the way back in 5th grade. We'll call her "Abby". I wasn't the first kid Abby kept hitting on and stalking, but I was the one she had a crush on the longest. I think it was because I never outright said anything mean to her, also because I was willing to talk to her for more than 5 sentences (honestly it was because I felt bad for her, but then I realized through talking with her why she nobody talked to her). Somehow, Abby found out WHERE I LIVED and asked me to hang out with her. Keep in mind, it's 9 in the morning, I just got out of bed ready to pour myself some cereal and watch Yu-gi-oh when the creepy girl that I've been avoiding knocked on my door to invite me to her house (all while I was wearing my racecar boxers! 
). It doesn't take a genius to figure out that was the last straw and I told her straight up never talk to me again. And more or less, she did just that. Eventually her family moved to a different town anyway so I thought I was free......ish.
Abby never did talk to me again, so there's that. But she somehow still springs up in my life. She tracked down one of the boys she hit on back in freshmen year through Facebook. He told me about it and even showed her profile picture. He told me it only took her 2 messages to ask him out again.
But come on, we all went to the same school, right? Can't be too crazy she found him. She probably found me too but I abandoned my Facebook account so I'll never know. And then something really funny happened.
I was hanging out with another friend of mine at his house. We were just talking and playing some vidya games when I told him a funny story about this creepy stalker from 5th grade. As I described her, he had this weird look on his face like it was familiar. He asked me for Abby's last name, so I told him. Then he went into one of his Facebook friend's friends list and found THE VERY SAME girl from over 10 years ago. This friend is from the other side of my state, about an hour drive to his house, and of all the places she went to, it was his school. And Abby actually stalked HIM TOO back in 8th grade. He's a bit more direct than I am so it didn't last long. Apparently today, she's going out with a guy that doesn't even talk to her. He's only dating her just so he can say he has a girlfriend
Life's kinda funny. Things that you found to be insignificant tend to come back and haunt you. Especially the ones with severe relationship issues.
). It doesn't take a genius to figure out that was the last straw and I told her straight up never talk to me again. And more or less, she did just that. Eventually her family moved to a different town anyway so I thought I was free......ish.Abby never did talk to me again, so there's that. But she somehow still springs up in my life. She tracked down one of the boys she hit on back in freshmen year through Facebook. He told me about it and even showed her profile picture. He told me it only took her 2 messages to ask him out again.
But come on, we all went to the same school, right? Can't be too crazy she found him. She probably found me too but I abandoned my Facebook account so I'll never know. And then something really funny happened.
I was hanging out with another friend of mine at his house. We were just talking and playing some vidya games when I told him a funny story about this creepy stalker from 5th grade. As I described her, he had this weird look on his face like it was familiar. He asked me for Abby's last name, so I told him. Then he went into one of his Facebook friend's friends list and found THE VERY SAME girl from over 10 years ago. This friend is from the other side of my state, about an hour drive to his house, and of all the places she went to, it was his school. And Abby actually stalked HIM TOO back in 8th grade. He's a bit more direct than I am so it didn't last long. Apparently today, she's going out with a guy that doesn't even talk to her. He's only dating her just so he can say he has a girlfriend
Life's kinda funny. Things that you found to be insignificant tend to come back and haunt you. Especially the ones with severe relationship issues.
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2013
You know, might as well post my own bit of unwanted relationship drama.
It's weird, I had a co-worker who I could've sworn was trying to get with me. The only reason I can't say for certain is that I didn't ask her outright, but she always spoke to me like she was excited to see me and she would always try sitting next to me. Unlike Emmy, she was hardly unattractive, but she had a 14-year old daughter and I have a personal policy against dating co-workers. Fortunately for me, before I could tell her I was uncomfortable with her, she got fired for a no-call no-show. So, I'm pretty relieved to say the least. And then when I was 12, I dated some girl for a couple weeks before I got annoyed with her and dumped her because she kept calling my house every 30 minutes. After that, she tried to call again pretending to be my next girlfriend and I just blew up at her. Coincidentally, both women were African-American and I just sounded like the biggest racist on the planet.
- Joined
- May 25, 2013
Kinda dim. Kinda grubby.
One rehearsal she leaves her bag in the main area we do our blocking work, it of course gets stepped on. "Oh no I had a mouse in there!" Guy who stepped on the bag feels like shit over it.
General stupid shit like this goes on for a while.
Some times if we finished early we'd watch some other movie, usually a cult movie or something with a RHPS cast member in it. This week was It for Tim Curry as Pennywise. Girl exclaims "Is that scary? I don't like clowns". We all immediately reassure her that the clown is barely a part of it.
She soon ran out screaming. We all smiled.
One rehearsal she leaves her bag in the main area we do our blocking work, it of course gets stepped on. "Oh no I had a mouse in there!" Guy who stepped on the bag feels like shit over it.
General stupid shit like this goes on for a while.
Some times if we finished early we'd watch some other movie, usually a cult movie or something with a RHPS cast member in it. This week was It for Tim Curry as Pennywise. Girl exclaims "Is that scary? I don't like clowns". We all immediately reassure her that the clown is barely a part of it.
She soon ran out screaming. We all smiled.
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2013
so i mentioned that one of my special co-workers is a super sperg to the max. today he and his handler of the day were just doing their thing and i was on lunch. they approach me.
i know right off the bat i'm going to laugh.
handler: excuse me, do-
spergmeister: (leans over me, a bit too close but is looking at the floor) DID YOU STEAL MY BACKPACK
hm yeah: BAHAHAHAHAHHAHA
handler: (sheepish grin) uh-
spergmeister: (apparently getting angrier) YOU STOLE MY BACKPACK
handler: (to sperg) no, hm yeah wasn't at the store. (to me) his backpack got stolen at the store. earlier there was someone in here with the same kind of backpack. spergmeister was about to attack him
hm yeah: ahahha sorry, no i didn't steal your backpack. wasn't me.
spergmeister: THEY STOLE MY BACKPACK
handler: (to sperg) it's probably gone
spergmeister then starts quoting a cartoon or something idk, and is alternating between cartoon line of the day and DEY STOLE MAH BAKKPAKK
i keep laughing because i can't help it, okay. i have a condition.
hm yeah: oh, right, what was your original question?
handler: (insert work-related issue)
hm yeah: (my recommendation to fixing the issue)
spergmeister: THE GIRL SCREAMED AND THE TANK FELLED OVER x3
and that was the highlight of my day
i know right off the bat i'm going to laugh.
handler: excuse me, do-
spergmeister: (leans over me, a bit too close but is looking at the floor) DID YOU STEAL MY BACKPACK
hm yeah: BAHAHAHAHAHHAHA
handler: (sheepish grin) uh-
spergmeister: (apparently getting angrier) YOU STOLE MY BACKPACK
handler: (to sperg) no, hm yeah wasn't at the store. (to me) his backpack got stolen at the store. earlier there was someone in here with the same kind of backpack. spergmeister was about to attack him
hm yeah: ahahha sorry, no i didn't steal your backpack. wasn't me.
spergmeister: THEY STOLE MY BACKPACK
handler: (to sperg) it's probably gone
spergmeister then starts quoting a cartoon or something idk, and is alternating between cartoon line of the day and DEY STOLE MAH BAKKPAKK
i keep laughing because i can't help it, okay. i have a condition.
hm yeah: oh, right, what was your original question?
handler: (insert work-related issue)
hm yeah: (my recommendation to fixing the issue)
spergmeister: THE GIRL SCREAMED AND THE TANK FELLED OVER x3
and that was the highlight of my day
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2013
I had a girlfriend who was one.
There's more I could go into detail about. The dad was a massive drunk pain in the ass.
She smoked pot constantly. I told her on several occasions she should slow down and actually enjoy being high. Like everything, this suggestion fell on deaf ears.
She had a kleptomaniac brother and an alcoholic dad. The brother would get dropped off at my house, by her or her parents, and he would keep tabs on me for her while stealing my CDs.
In addition to being pulled into her family drama, her drug fueled paranoia caused her to make lots of stupid accusations, especially that I was seeing someone else. This was so pathetic it was almost funny.
The Groping Incident: so I broke up with her. She failed to understand why despite my long list of reasons (there's more than I care to cover here, this is the salient stuff). Worse, she continued as if it didn't happen. I was in the den watching TV with my roommate and his cousin. She sits next to me and sticks her hand under my shirt. She's trying to feel me up in front of my friend and a total stranger, so I politely tell her to stop. Naturally, since she's smoked her lunch dope, she explodes and...wait for it...accuses me of cheating. Again. I tell her this is why I dumped her and she storms off.
No, that's not all. She wouldn't go away. She started dating my other pot dealer roommate. I was with my future ex then, and she made a fool of herself. I moved out and never saw her again save for two unanswered phone calls. My idiot dealer friend had to go through the same shit.
She had a kleptomaniac brother and an alcoholic dad. The brother would get dropped off at my house, by her or her parents, and he would keep tabs on me for her while stealing my CDs.
In addition to being pulled into her family drama, her drug fueled paranoia caused her to make lots of stupid accusations, especially that I was seeing someone else. This was so pathetic it was almost funny.
The Groping Incident: so I broke up with her. She failed to understand why despite my long list of reasons (there's more than I care to cover here, this is the salient stuff). Worse, she continued as if it didn't happen. I was in the den watching TV with my roommate and his cousin. She sits next to me and sticks her hand under my shirt. She's trying to feel me up in front of my friend and a total stranger, so I politely tell her to stop. Naturally, since she's smoked her lunch dope, she explodes and...wait for it...accuses me of cheating. Again. I tell her this is why I dumped her and she storms off.
No, that's not all. She wouldn't go away. She started dating my other pot dealer roommate. I was with my future ex then, and she made a fool of herself. I moved out and never saw her again save for two unanswered phone calls. My idiot dealer friend had to go through the same shit.
There's more I could go into detail about. The dad was a massive drunk pain in the ass.
2Spoopy
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Oct 19, 2014
Had my own little lolcow pair once upon a time. I was reminded of them by the Vade thread.
The girl, whom I will affectionately refer to as Wailord, was "high ranking" in the local pagan community (meaning her parents had a shitton of money and would invite local pagans over for free drinks, food and a place to have sex outside with ~nature~). Sociopathic Tumblrina SJW incarnate.
The guy, whom I will call simply Dipshit, was a diagnosed sociopath. He was the one I had the only contact with. He went through college to become a psychologist, literally to fuck with people's minds. What could possibly go wrong? Nowhere near as interesting. Just kinda a background crazypants. More Horrorcow than anything.
The girl, whom I will affectionately refer to as Wailord, was "high ranking" in the local pagan community (meaning her parents had a shitton of money and would invite local pagans over for free drinks, food and a place to have sex outside with ~nature~). Sociopathic Tumblrina SJW incarnate.
The guy, whom I will call simply Dipshit, was a diagnosed sociopath. He was the one I had the only contact with. He went through college to become a psychologist, literally to fuck with people's minds. What could possibly go wrong? Nowhere near as interesting. Just kinda a background crazypants. More Horrorcow than anything.
With all the money they had, the parents put Wailord through one of the most expensive colleges around which she would flip flop between majors yearly. I don't believe she ever finished any college, and I want to say she dropped out, but I can't say for sure. Her parents would pay her rent, her car, all her bills, and on top of that give her a $300+ a week allowance. What was that for? FOOD. She was five foot nothing and must've weighed 250+ lbs.
Wailord went by some name she stole from Lord of the Rings, because that's what all the cool pagans do I guess?
Dipshit and Wailord would constantly get animals, post cute pics of them on the internet and then... they would just disappear. I later learned that Wailord would forget to feed hers. Dipshit just straight up murdered his, shooting them in the head, ect.
Wailord calls herself a Goddess. And demands that she be worshiped. Dipshit happily obliges. Not just silly "haha Tumblr, I'm so special and kawaii, worship me!" Nope. This was straight on believed she was a goddess come to earth.
Wailord decided one day Dipshit's name didn't fit him, and gave him a new name. Not a nickname. A new real name. They made everyone call him that from then on.
Wailord refused to clean her free apartment that she shared with roommates. She let the garbage pile up in the sink full of god knows what, and forced Dipshit to regularly clean it out when it became too much for her to handle.
They broke up for a while after they both cheated on each other and Dipshit went into the ultimate annggsstttt while Wailord fucked her way around the campus. They got back together, eventually.
Despite being so large, Wailord had this high pitched, shrill voice. Dipshit just kinda mumbled to himself.
Dipshit was a /b/tard, and spent hours every day on gore, bestiality, cp, ect. threads, and would brag how nothing bothered him anymore and would save it all to his hard drive.
Dipshit told me he would poison me then bury me in the field his parents owned where no one would find me one time when we were alone, and he would use one of the "poisons" he learned to make on 4chan that he used to kill small animals. Needless to say, I was freaked the fuck out.
Wailord tried to be an artist, but only drew fat chicks in some kind of... the only way I can describe it is horrible Tumblr, chibi style done by a 13 year old with nothing but a mouse and MS Paint. She ended up getting multiple tattoos of her art on her body. And not just little ones, HUGE pieces. They were hilarious.
Dipshit would constantly rave about he was going to make bombs because he learned how to on the internet.
Dipshit and Wailord had a pet hamster, and during their break up the hamster was getting old and about to die, so Dipshit got it a girl hamster. Girl hamster has two or three litters of hamlets and proceeds to eat most of them. Dipshit refuses to clean the girl hamster and baby's cage, so it starts growing all kinds of mold and general stank. This was right beside where they cooked food as his family ran a small food company. Dipshit salvaged one of the babies, and he tried to sell off the others to pet stores. He complained ad infinitum of how the female hamster wasn't as nice as the male one he and Wailord had together was. I told him it was because he couldn't be assed to spend enough time to even clean its cage much less handle it. He just got spergy.
The bad thing was, Dipshit's parents were super sweet, and cool but fairly oblivious to Dipshit's crazy due to being really old I guess. They hated Wailord with a passion which was ultra hilarious.
Finally got out of their crazy spiral a few years ago, so I don't remember all the good details, but if I remember any great ones, I'll post them.
Wailord went by some name she stole from Lord of the Rings, because that's what all the cool pagans do I guess?
Dipshit and Wailord would constantly get animals, post cute pics of them on the internet and then... they would just disappear. I later learned that Wailord would forget to feed hers. Dipshit just straight up murdered his, shooting them in the head, ect.
Wailord calls herself a Goddess. And demands that she be worshiped. Dipshit happily obliges. Not just silly "haha Tumblr, I'm so special and kawaii, worship me!" Nope. This was straight on believed she was a goddess come to earth.
Wailord decided one day Dipshit's name didn't fit him, and gave him a new name. Not a nickname. A new real name. They made everyone call him that from then on.
Wailord refused to clean her free apartment that she shared with roommates. She let the garbage pile up in the sink full of god knows what, and forced Dipshit to regularly clean it out when it became too much for her to handle.
They broke up for a while after they both cheated on each other and Dipshit went into the ultimate annggsstttt while Wailord fucked her way around the campus. They got back together, eventually.
Despite being so large, Wailord had this high pitched, shrill voice. Dipshit just kinda mumbled to himself.
Dipshit was a /b/tard, and spent hours every day on gore, bestiality, cp, ect. threads, and would brag how nothing bothered him anymore and would save it all to his hard drive.
Dipshit told me he would poison me then bury me in the field his parents owned where no one would find me one time when we were alone, and he would use one of the "poisons" he learned to make on 4chan that he used to kill small animals. Needless to say, I was freaked the fuck out.
Wailord tried to be an artist, but only drew fat chicks in some kind of... the only way I can describe it is horrible Tumblr, chibi style done by a 13 year old with nothing but a mouse and MS Paint. She ended up getting multiple tattoos of her art on her body. And not just little ones, HUGE pieces. They were hilarious.
Dipshit would constantly rave about he was going to make bombs because he learned how to on the internet.
Dipshit and Wailord had a pet hamster, and during their break up the hamster was getting old and about to die, so Dipshit got it a girl hamster. Girl hamster has two or three litters of hamlets and proceeds to eat most of them. Dipshit refuses to clean the girl hamster and baby's cage, so it starts growing all kinds of mold and general stank. This was right beside where they cooked food as his family ran a small food company. Dipshit salvaged one of the babies, and he tried to sell off the others to pet stores. He complained ad infinitum of how the female hamster wasn't as nice as the male one he and Wailord had together was. I told him it was because he couldn't be assed to spend enough time to even clean its cage much less handle it. He just got spergy.
The bad thing was, Dipshit's parents were super sweet, and cool but fairly oblivious to Dipshit's crazy due to being really old I guess. They hated Wailord with a passion which was ultra hilarious.
Finally got out of their crazy spiral a few years ago, so I don't remember all the good details, but if I remember any great ones, I'll post them.
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2014
You know, I just had some more interaction with the Emma Watson Creeper Guy whose name I still keep secret because I know he's prolific and in his heyday he wouldn't hesitate to cause trouble wherever he thinks people are getting him all wrong when they're really calling him out or trying to help him, so I'd rather not test that. Besides, I'm actually unsure on if I should write a proper thread on him someday.
See, that's exactly what I've been trying to do for the last several months when like an idiot, I came back to the thread I was talking about in that post because I wanted to stop a shitstorm I sensed coming, and went back to work trying to bang this guy into shape. And predictably, he still refused to change anything about it, which baffles me when a guy is supposedly looking for critique and then turns around and doesn't accept any of it. Everyone else who visited took my side, noting I had the patience of a saint, while I was just wondering how the Creeper Guy could be this blind to a person getting frustrated and getting more and more blunt with his criticism. Other posters hit what I didn't want to say for fear of losing contact with a guy after I'd spent so much time trying to get him to polish his turd, which was that he wasn't really looking for meaningful criticism, he wanted pity and praise in equal parts, flip-flopping between either as the momentum of the thread suited him and getting neither because nobody who visited the thread was, you know, stupid. Maybe except for me. I don't know what I should've expected to happen aside from that, but I'm the kind of person who's inclined to believe in people, and that they can change if they really want to. But it seems like no lolcow does.
So, this thread turned into a 380-post monstrosity where I put down several dissertations trying to pick out what was wrong with his writing approach, his overall mentality, and his insistence on putting in all his fetishes and Seltzerberg-style unfunny references to everything and his massive continuities when he couldn't write a story to save his life, despite his ego saying he's hot shit and that "just because you can, doesn't mean you should" doesn't apply to him, and he never budged. I finally ran out of ammo and declared I was completely done this time, after confirming for myself that this idiot wasn't fucking with me or anybody else on the site and was totally serious. Which makes it all the sadder.
The story of my interaction with him ends there. He's left the thread I mention and hasn't come back since. It's been a couple weeks, the longest I've seen him go even when that thread was pretty dead, so I can only assume he's kept to his word and gone off to parts unknown.
Now, last time I talked about him I thought I wouldn't mention the people he angered along the way because he has this ability to turn perfectly normal netizens into seething bundles of rage just from how frustratingly stubborn and clueless he can be, but it was those people who clued me in to how deep this rabbit hole went, leading me to find out just how deep...
This was his creation. Crossposted to here, and it's exactly what it looks like: extremely involved real-person-fic and every single detail about it, with entries on Watson and Grint being 20-part-or-greater tomes of crazy and all entirely made-up. And I do mean all of it. Outside that, still holds all his grudges to this day and in the fandom he shit on the most, there's plenty of material to pick through. A tumblr user who asked one of the other people who trudged through this asked about him describing his profile as saying it might as well read "NECKBEARD in 72pt comic sans," and I figure the biggest collection of judges on that I know-you guys-ought to have a crack at it.
I still wonder if he's truly a lolcow of note or not, and if I would just be clogging up the Lolcows forum if I put up a thread trying to chronicle the guy. I suspect he isn't and that I would, but hey, I've been wrong before. Blindly optimistic, too...
See, that's exactly what I've been trying to do for the last several months when like an idiot, I came back to the thread I was talking about in that post because I wanted to stop a shitstorm I sensed coming, and went back to work trying to bang this guy into shape. And predictably, he still refused to change anything about it, which baffles me when a guy is supposedly looking for critique and then turns around and doesn't accept any of it. Everyone else who visited took my side, noting I had the patience of a saint, while I was just wondering how the Creeper Guy could be this blind to a person getting frustrated and getting more and more blunt with his criticism. Other posters hit what I didn't want to say for fear of losing contact with a guy after I'd spent so much time trying to get him to polish his turd, which was that he wasn't really looking for meaningful criticism, he wanted pity and praise in equal parts, flip-flopping between either as the momentum of the thread suited him and getting neither because nobody who visited the thread was, you know, stupid. Maybe except for me. I don't know what I should've expected to happen aside from that, but I'm the kind of person who's inclined to believe in people, and that they can change if they really want to. But it seems like no lolcow does.
So, this thread turned into a 380-post monstrosity where I put down several dissertations trying to pick out what was wrong with his writing approach, his overall mentality, and his insistence on putting in all his fetishes and Seltzerberg-style unfunny references to everything and his massive continuities when he couldn't write a story to save his life, despite his ego saying he's hot shit and that "just because you can, doesn't mean you should" doesn't apply to him, and he never budged. I finally ran out of ammo and declared I was completely done this time, after confirming for myself that this idiot wasn't fucking with me or anybody else on the site and was totally serious. Which makes it all the sadder.
The story of my interaction with him ends there. He's left the thread I mention and hasn't come back since. It's been a couple weeks, the longest I've seen him go even when that thread was pretty dead, so I can only assume he's kept to his word and gone off to parts unknown.
Now, last time I talked about him I thought I wouldn't mention the people he angered along the way because he has this ability to turn perfectly normal netizens into seething bundles of rage just from how frustratingly stubborn and clueless he can be, but it was those people who clued me in to how deep this rabbit hole went, leading me to find out just how deep...
This was his creation. Crossposted to here, and it's exactly what it looks like: extremely involved real-person-fic and every single detail about it, with entries on Watson and Grint being 20-part-or-greater tomes of crazy and all entirely made-up. And I do mean all of it. Outside that, still holds all his grudges to this day and in the fandom he shit on the most, there's plenty of material to pick through. A tumblr user who asked one of the other people who trudged through this asked about him describing his profile as saying it might as well read "NECKBEARD in 72pt comic sans," and I figure the biggest collection of judges on that I know-you guys-ought to have a crack at it.
I still wonder if he's truly a lolcow of note or not, and if I would just be clogging up the Lolcows forum if I put up a thread trying to chronicle the guy. I suspect he isn't and that I would, but hey, I've been wrong before. Blindly optimistic, too...
Last edited:
- Joined
- Aug 30, 2014
This is the most spergtastic thing I've ever seen. I cringed throughout the entirety of that video.
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2013
I thought shoehorning Pooh and Co. was the most spergy forced insert. Now I've seen everything.
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2014
He's not inactive. You might want to ready a thread or update "Pooh's Adventures of Autism, because this is another surprisingly deep rabbit hole...
- Joined
- May 27, 2014
Good idea.
- Joined
- Mar 26, 2014
Alright, so this thread is getting too much into "I knew some loser lol what a lolcow" territory so I'm going to bring out the big guns.
I went to a elite liberal arts college that promoted individuality and attracted a whole lot of special snowflakes. In order to stick out at this school, you have to be really fucking insane. Here is one guy I"d consider more of a horrorcow
I got a friend request from this ginger kid with glasses that I didn't know, but I accepted it anyway because I would drink a 24 pack of Busch at parties, smoke a blunt, and often made a lot of friends that I don't remember meeting that way. He liked nearly all my posts and made facebook status updates about going off his meds or sperging about Bret Easton Ellis (the author of American Psycho, among other books). I eventually ran into him once at a club where my friend was promoting parties and shit. I smoked back then, and he came outside to have a cigarette with me. He said, "hi, my name is [redacted]" and walked away. He later messaged me to say that he was sorry for not being talkative because he was high on cocaine. I thought that this was weird because if you have ever been around a person on cocaine, they never shut the fuck up. I would minimally reply to his messages because, you know, whatever I'm a pretty easy person to get along with while high and he seemed like an ok guy. He really intensifies his messaging during summer break when I'm up at five in the morning online after an Oblivion binge. He messages me about all the drugs he's doing and how fucked up he is because his Dad doesn't love him or some shit like that. He also tells me that he's bisexual and that he found me to be "sexy". I told him that was flattering, but I'm not into dudes.
When college resumed, I was a member of a college reading series which was just mostly a small group of friends who would drink wine in the school cafeteria and read short stories/poems that we wrote or that we liked. He showed up a couple times and read some really creepy stories. My friend described it as that she felt like she was being raped by his words. The first story was about a guy who had finished jacking off and was admiring how much he came over his stomach in great description. Another story I remember is about how a drug deal went bad, so the narrator was crushing some dude's nuts in a vice clamp. One time he came up to me at school and handed me a bag of weed because it makes him have bad thoughts and cut himself. He eventually dropped out of college because he had to go to the psych ward or rehab... can't remember this was like five years ago and I was
in college. I do remember him making a facebook status update about whipping his dick out in group therapy. The next semester, I was up at three in the morning polishing off my final essay on genocide in Burma, so I was not in the best of moods. He contacted me and told me he was addicted to heroin like I was supposed to care. I told him he was an idiot and that it was his own fault. I think he wanted me to feel sympathy for him, but I was too busy writing a paper on Buddhist Monks being slaughtered and women being gang raped by soldiers and then charged with prostitution to feel sympathy for some junkie with rich parents.
Somewhere in this timeline, I'm drinking with my roommate and I mention this weirdo's name. My roommate immediately freaks out because HE KNOWS HIM TOO. Apparently this kid added him as well on facebook even though they hadn't met in person and was messaging him constantly on facebook and talking about how he's one of his few friends he trusts, etc. Real creepy shit. Roommate's birthday rolls around, invites creeper to his party because he was drunkg nad invited his entire friend's list. Creeper messages me asking what he should get my roommate for his birthday when JESUS CHRIST I was getting him a blunt to smoke with him. He thinks he's going to get him a vinyl album of some shitty hipster band that my roommate liked or something like that. I share this with my roommate, who starts freaking out thinking this fucker is going to show up to the party and roofie us. He winds up never showing to my roommate's party and around two in the morning my wasted roommate walks up to me, hugs me, and screams "[redacted] NEVER SHOWED UP TO MY PARTY THIS IS THE BEST PRESENT EVERRRRRR" Another friend told me that he told her that he was going to kill her and fuck her dead body their freshman year. He eventually flunked out of college because he'd just sit around his dorm room, do drugs, and cut himself.
I haven't talked to this freak in years since I deleted my facebook after college and made a new one a year later under a fake name. He's self-published two books Gloria Tesch style, and my friend sent me the transcript of the first. Spoiler: it's just mainly about a Marty Stu doing a bunch of drugs in college and wanting to fuck people. I did find his blog and, wow, it was fucked up. I remember one story starting off with "the fleshy metallic taste of turkey, my Uncle's cock--to me these two will always be associated. I guess that's why I'm a vegetarian now." He sadly deleted his blog. I just googled his old username and found his new blog. Here is a story from it:
Here's another one:
I went to a elite liberal arts college that promoted individuality and attracted a whole lot of special snowflakes. In order to stick out at this school, you have to be really fucking insane. Here is one guy I"d consider more of a horrorcow
I got a friend request from this ginger kid with glasses that I didn't know, but I accepted it anyway because I would drink a 24 pack of Busch at parties, smoke a blunt, and often made a lot of friends that I don't remember meeting that way. He liked nearly all my posts and made facebook status updates about going off his meds or sperging about Bret Easton Ellis (the author of American Psycho, among other books). I eventually ran into him once at a club where my friend was promoting parties and shit. I smoked back then, and he came outside to have a cigarette with me. He said, "hi, my name is [redacted]" and walked away. He later messaged me to say that he was sorry for not being talkative because he was high on cocaine. I thought that this was weird because if you have ever been around a person on cocaine, they never shut the fuck up. I would minimally reply to his messages because, you know, whatever I'm a pretty easy person to get along with while high and he seemed like an ok guy. He really intensifies his messaging during summer break when I'm up at five in the morning online after an Oblivion binge. He messages me about all the drugs he's doing and how fucked up he is because his Dad doesn't love him or some shit like that. He also tells me that he's bisexual and that he found me to be "sexy". I told him that was flattering, but I'm not into dudes.
When college resumed, I was a member of a college reading series which was just mostly a small group of friends who would drink wine in the school cafeteria and read short stories/poems that we wrote or that we liked. He showed up a couple times and read some really creepy stories. My friend described it as that she felt like she was being raped by his words. The first story was about a guy who had finished jacking off and was admiring how much he came over his stomach in great description. Another story I remember is about how a drug deal went bad, so the narrator was crushing some dude's nuts in a vice clamp. One time he came up to me at school and handed me a bag of weed because it makes him have bad thoughts and cut himself. He eventually dropped out of college because he had to go to the psych ward or rehab... can't remember this was like five years ago and I was
in college. I do remember him making a facebook status update about whipping his dick out in group therapy. The next semester, I was up at three in the morning polishing off my final essay on genocide in Burma, so I was not in the best of moods. He contacted me and told me he was addicted to heroin like I was supposed to care. I told him he was an idiot and that it was his own fault. I think he wanted me to feel sympathy for him, but I was too busy writing a paper on Buddhist Monks being slaughtered and women being gang raped by soldiers and then charged with prostitution to feel sympathy for some junkie with rich parents.Somewhere in this timeline, I'm drinking with my roommate and I mention this weirdo's name. My roommate immediately freaks out because HE KNOWS HIM TOO. Apparently this kid added him as well on facebook even though they hadn't met in person and was messaging him constantly on facebook and talking about how he's one of his few friends he trusts, etc. Real creepy shit. Roommate's birthday rolls around, invites creeper to his party because he was drunkg nad invited his entire friend's list. Creeper messages me asking what he should get my roommate for his birthday when JESUS CHRIST I was getting him a blunt to smoke with him. He thinks he's going to get him a vinyl album of some shitty hipster band that my roommate liked or something like that. I share this with my roommate, who starts freaking out thinking this fucker is going to show up to the party and roofie us. He winds up never showing to my roommate's party and around two in the morning my wasted roommate walks up to me, hugs me, and screams "[redacted] NEVER SHOWED UP TO MY PARTY THIS IS THE BEST PRESENT EVERRRRRR" Another friend told me that he told her that he was going to kill her and fuck her dead body their freshman year. He eventually flunked out of college because he'd just sit around his dorm room, do drugs, and cut himself.
I haven't talked to this freak in years since I deleted my facebook after college and made a new one a year later under a fake name. He's self-published two books Gloria Tesch style, and my friend sent me the transcript of the first. Spoiler: it's just mainly about a Marty Stu doing a bunch of drugs in college and wanting to fuck people. I did find his blog and, wow, it was fucked up. I remember one story starting off with "the fleshy metallic taste of turkey, my Uncle's cock--to me these two will always be associated. I guess that's why I'm a vegetarian now." He sadly deleted his blog. I just googled his old username and found his new blog. Here is a story from it:
It starts in a basement. Mold green paint chips off the walls all over the fucking place. A pair of feet enter the frame, which is to say a doorway, and a cat enters from off-screen to rub against the feet and then meow and walk away.
“Can I gag you with a fork?” He grins like the Joker. Just lying there, squinting up at him through cat litter and tears, you can feel your cock stiffening. You try not to let this distract you by shutting your eyes tight, stuffing your hands over your ears, and shouting for someone to help. He walks over and slaps you.
“Are you fucking nuts? This has always been about both of us! And what if someone actually did hear your insane cries for help, what then? To find you here, drugged and covered in my dried shit and cum, cat turds smeared all over you, litter sprinkled on top like a peanut covered Sundae...yes it's beautiful, we both know that, but they would never understand. Aren't I right, Kevy?”
Kevy doesn't, maybe can't, respond, just nods his head and smears cat litter across his lips.
“That's a good boy.”
Kneeling like a frog, he pats Kevy on the head.
Standing, “Right. So. Let's get the fun underway, shall we?”
A cat meows and brushes against a leg.
***
It's shot in a medium reversal of him dragging Kevy's body across the work bench.
“Murphmydjj...I...mmlove you,” Kevy mumbles through the fresh cat shit that's been stuffed in his mouth.
Brushing tools to the sides of the table in a clamorous swoop, he cackles and says, “I know you do, Kevy. That's why we trust each other for this.”
He hoists Kevy's naked body, which is covered with multiple species' shit, ejaculate, piss, and vomit, onto the table, then pulls Kevy back down, so half of Kevy's body is hanging off, limp but feet kicking in merriment or desperation, he couldn't say if he cared.
Then he gets really close to Kevy's face. Kevy sees his angelic blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair and thinks he looks as close to God, aka Kurt Cobain, as anyone ever could. Staring into the face of an angel, Kevy feels cold hands around his face that register as warm, and he lifts Kevy's head into position on the edge of the table.
To picture the position, picture what people sometimes call “curbstomping.” Now picture the exact opposite of that.
Kevy's face is bent back, with the top of his jaw nailed to the top of the table and the bottom of his jaw is stretched way open, showing his no tonsils all the way down the tube of his throat. It's nailed to the side of the table.
You feel this as the first day you got braces as a kid, how much that hurt. You feel this as little crucifixions all up and down your rows of teeth. You feel this as your neck about to snap.
Then he picks up the fork. He walks over to you with it slowly at first, doing a little dance like in Reservoir Dogs. You try speaking, but this just causes your tongue to freak out in all directions and, not wanting to die yet, you stop.
The first mark comes suddenly. He lunges at you unexpectedly and reaches deep, deep down inside your throat. He stabs the fork into your distended throat without restraint and you throw up blood and bile all over his hand. You taste blood and things you've never tasted before. It tastes like the blood coming from the puncture wound in your throat is flowing upwards.
And it is a puncture wound: you can feel, hear, air whistling in and out of your throat and you know he's broken through. Over the next hour he takes his time battering your throat, making holes in it, playing with your endless blood and vomit, until there just seems to be endless blood.
A cat meows and brushes against a leg.
“Can I gag you with a fork?” He grins like the Joker. Just lying there, squinting up at him through cat litter and tears, you can feel your cock stiffening. You try not to let this distract you by shutting your eyes tight, stuffing your hands over your ears, and shouting for someone to help. He walks over and slaps you.
“Are you fucking nuts? This has always been about both of us! And what if someone actually did hear your insane cries for help, what then? To find you here, drugged and covered in my dried shit and cum, cat turds smeared all over you, litter sprinkled on top like a peanut covered Sundae...yes it's beautiful, we both know that, but they would never understand. Aren't I right, Kevy?”
Kevy doesn't, maybe can't, respond, just nods his head and smears cat litter across his lips.
“That's a good boy.”
Kneeling like a frog, he pats Kevy on the head.
Standing, “Right. So. Let's get the fun underway, shall we?”
A cat meows and brushes against a leg.
***
It's shot in a medium reversal of him dragging Kevy's body across the work bench.
“Murphmydjj...I...mmlove you,” Kevy mumbles through the fresh cat shit that's been stuffed in his mouth.
Brushing tools to the sides of the table in a clamorous swoop, he cackles and says, “I know you do, Kevy. That's why we trust each other for this.”
He hoists Kevy's naked body, which is covered with multiple species' shit, ejaculate, piss, and vomit, onto the table, then pulls Kevy back down, so half of Kevy's body is hanging off, limp but feet kicking in merriment or desperation, he couldn't say if he cared.
Then he gets really close to Kevy's face. Kevy sees his angelic blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair and thinks he looks as close to God, aka Kurt Cobain, as anyone ever could. Staring into the face of an angel, Kevy feels cold hands around his face that register as warm, and he lifts Kevy's head into position on the edge of the table.
To picture the position, picture what people sometimes call “curbstomping.” Now picture the exact opposite of that.
Kevy's face is bent back, with the top of his jaw nailed to the top of the table and the bottom of his jaw is stretched way open, showing his no tonsils all the way down the tube of his throat. It's nailed to the side of the table.
You feel this as the first day you got braces as a kid, how much that hurt. You feel this as little crucifixions all up and down your rows of teeth. You feel this as your neck about to snap.
Then he picks up the fork. He walks over to you with it slowly at first, doing a little dance like in Reservoir Dogs. You try speaking, but this just causes your tongue to freak out in all directions and, not wanting to die yet, you stop.
The first mark comes suddenly. He lunges at you unexpectedly and reaches deep, deep down inside your throat. He stabs the fork into your distended throat without restraint and you throw up blood and bile all over his hand. You taste blood and things you've never tasted before. It tastes like the blood coming from the puncture wound in your throat is flowing upwards.
And it is a puncture wound: you can feel, hear, air whistling in and out of your throat and you know he's broken through. Over the next hour he takes his time battering your throat, making holes in it, playing with your endless blood and vomit, until there just seems to be endless blood.
A cat meows and brushes against a leg.
Here's another one:
“Hey aren't you Bill Frasier?”
It's a gray 7-11 at nobody knows what time. Gray. Flicking fluorescent lights give the place a slowed down strobe effect. Gray everywhere. Bill Frasier pictures the gray as crude and all-encompassing, like he's a victim in a poorly shot snuff film.
Outside, a naked body is sprawled on the hood of a car, split open from neck to vagina. The ribs have been snapped into pieces and most of what was once housed inside is gone. The flesh on the outside of the gash that used to be a woman's body has been nailed hastily to the hood of the car, the tops of nails bashed in at weird angles.
A man whistles and walks past, fumbling for a Camel Light.
Bill Frasier stands at a 7-11 counter trying to open a candy bar. When he hears the voice behind him he starts, then focuses his attention back on the candy bar.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“Hey, yeah, Billy! Remember me, Robbie Schwanker?”
Bill looks down, fumbling with his candy bar wrapper, avoiding eye contact, trapped at the convenient store counter.
“Uh, yeah, Robbie. Hi.” Pause. “How have you been?”
“Oh, you know, you know. I'm a regional manager over at Pep Boys now!”
“That's great, Robbie,” Bill says, sounding dead inside.
“Yeah...Jesus, man, I haven't seen you since Senior year! What have you been up to?"
Bill stops twisting the wrapper, looks at Robbie's gray eyes, eyes that thankfully recall to Bill no memory of who this person was, and he says, “Nothing. I haven't been up to anything.”
Bill dimly realizes that he has Robbie at a loss but he couldn't care less about this faux pas. Robbie tries a different tactic.
“So, what about Jeanie Blew? I remember you two having a real heavy thing going. Man, what happened? Everyone thought you guys were going to get married!”
“We did,” says Bill, and the look on his face prompts an “I'm sorry” from Robbie.
“Don't be,” says Bill, his voice now perking up, him starting to eat his candy bar. “It was just one of those things.”
“Didn't work out?”
“Nope.” Bill tosses a square of the chocolate into his mouth and masticates loudly.
There's a pause, and then Robbie lowers his voice to say, “So I guess you got divorced?”
“Oh no,” Bill says, appearing totally at ease now, pushing the last of the candy bar into his mouth.
“No?”
“Nope. I killed her.”
It's a gray 7-11 at nobody knows what time. Gray. Flicking fluorescent lights give the place a slowed down strobe effect. Gray everywhere. Bill Frasier pictures the gray as crude and all-encompassing, like he's a victim in a poorly shot snuff film.
Outside, a naked body is sprawled on the hood of a car, split open from neck to vagina. The ribs have been snapped into pieces and most of what was once housed inside is gone. The flesh on the outside of the gash that used to be a woman's body has been nailed hastily to the hood of the car, the tops of nails bashed in at weird angles.
A man whistles and walks past, fumbling for a Camel Light.
Bill Frasier stands at a 7-11 counter trying to open a candy bar. When he hears the voice behind him he starts, then focuses his attention back on the candy bar.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“Hey, yeah, Billy! Remember me, Robbie Schwanker?”
Bill looks down, fumbling with his candy bar wrapper, avoiding eye contact, trapped at the convenient store counter.
“Uh, yeah, Robbie. Hi.” Pause. “How have you been?”
“Oh, you know, you know. I'm a regional manager over at Pep Boys now!”
“That's great, Robbie,” Bill says, sounding dead inside.
“Yeah...Jesus, man, I haven't seen you since Senior year! What have you been up to?"
Bill stops twisting the wrapper, looks at Robbie's gray eyes, eyes that thankfully recall to Bill no memory of who this person was, and he says, “Nothing. I haven't been up to anything.”
Bill dimly realizes that he has Robbie at a loss but he couldn't care less about this faux pas. Robbie tries a different tactic.
“So, what about Jeanie Blew? I remember you two having a real heavy thing going. Man, what happened? Everyone thought you guys were going to get married!”
“We did,” says Bill, and the look on his face prompts an “I'm sorry” from Robbie.
“Don't be,” says Bill, his voice now perking up, him starting to eat his candy bar. “It was just one of those things.”
“Didn't work out?”
“Nope.” Bill tosses a square of the chocolate into his mouth and masticates loudly.
There's a pause, and then Robbie lowers his voice to say, “So I guess you got divorced?”
“Oh no,” Bill says, appearing totally at ease now, pushing the last of the candy bar into his mouth.
“No?”
“Nope. I killed her.”
Last edited:
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2013
Just reading that one line makes me laugh my ass off for all the wrong reasons. It's just so screwed up and stupid, yet has this strange, unintentional comedic feel to it at the same time.
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2013
I think this guy missed the point of Bret Easton Ellis, among the many other things he also missed.Alright, so this thread is getting too much into "I knew some loser lol what a lolcow" territory so I'm going to bring out the big guns.
I went to a elite liberal arts college that promoted individuality and attracted a whole lot of special snowflakes. In order to stick out at this school, you have to be really fucking insane. Here is one guy I"d consider more of a horrorcow
I got a friend request from this ginger kid with glasses that I didn't know, but I accepted it anyway because I would drink a 24 pack of Busch at parties, smoke a blunt, and often made a lot of friends that I don't remember meeting that way. He liked nearly all my posts and made facebook status updates about going off his meds or sperging about Bret Easton Ellis (the author of American Psycho, among other books). I eventually ran into him once at a club where my friend was promoting parties and shit. I smoked back then, and he came outside to have a cigarette with me. He said, "hi, my name is [redacted]" and walked away. He later messaged me to say that he was sorry for not being talkative because he was high on cocaine. I thought that this was weird because if you have ever been around a person on cocaine, they never shut the fuck up. I would minimally reply to his messages because, you know, whatever I'm a pretty easy person to get along with while high and he seemed like an ok guy. He really intensifies his messaging during summer break when I'm up at five in the morning online after an Oblivion binge. He messages me about all the drugs he's doing and how fucked up he is because his Dad doesn't love him or some shit like that. He also tells me that he's bisexual and that he found me to be "sexy". I told him that was flattering, but I'm not into dudes.
When college resumed, I was a member of a college reading series which was just mostly a small group of friends who would drink wine in the school cafeteria and read short stories/poems that we wrote or that we liked. He showed up a couple times and read some really creepy stories. My friend described it as that she felt like she was being raped by his words. The first story was about a guy who had finished jacking off and was admiring how much he came over his stomach in great description. Another story I remember is about how a drug deal went bad, so the narrator was crushing some dude's nuts in a vice clamp. One time he came up to me at school and handed me a bag of weed because it makes him have bad thoughts and cut himself. He eventually dropped out of college because he had to go to the psych ward or rehab... can't remember this was like five years ago and I was
Somewhere in this timeline, I'm drinking with my roommate and I mention this weirdo's name. My roommate immediately freaks out because HE KNOWS HIM TOO. Apparently this kid added him as well on facebook even though they hadn't met in person and was messaging him constantly on facebook and talking about how he's one of his few friends he trusts, etc. Real creepy shit. Roommate's birthday rolls around, invites creeper to his party because he was drunkg nad invited his entire friend's list. Creeper messages me asking what he should get my roommate for his birthday when JESUS CHRIST I was getting him a blunt to smoke with him. He thinks he's going to get him a vinyl album of some shitty hipster band that my roommate liked or something like that. I share this with my roommate, who starts freaking out thinking this fucker is going to show up to the party and roofie us. He winds up never showing to my roommate's party and around two in the morning my wasted roommate walks up to me, hugs me, and screams "[redacted] NEVER SHOWED UP TO MY PARTY THIS IS THE BEST PRESENT EVERRRRRR" Another friend told me that he told her that he was going to kill her and fuck her dead body their freshman year. He eventually flunked out of college because he'd just sit around his dorm room, do drugs, and cut himself.
I haven't talked to this freak in years since I deleted my facebook after college and made a new one a year later under a fake name. He's self-published two books Gloria Tesch style, and my friend sent me the transcript of the first. Spoiler: it's just mainly about a Marty Stu doing a bunch of drugs in college and wanting to fuck people. I did find his blog and, wow, it was fucked up. I remember one story starting off with "the fleshy metallic taste of turkey, my Uncle's cock--to me these two will always be associated. I guess that's why I'm a vegetarian now." He sadly deleted his blog. I just googled his old username and found his new blog. Here is a story from it:
It starts in a basement. Mold green paint chips off the walls all over the fucking place. A pair of feet enter the frame, which is to say a doorway, and a cat enters from off-screen to rub against the feet and then meow and walk away.
“Can I gag you with a fork?” He grins like the Joker. Just lying there, squinting up at him through cat litter and tears, you can feel your cock stiffening. You try not to let this distract you by shutting your eyes tight, stuffing your hands over your ears, and shouting for someone to help. He walks over and slaps you.
“Are you fucking nuts? This has always been about both of us! And what if someone actually did hear your insane cries for help, what then? To find you here, drugged and covered in my dried shit and cum, cat turds smeared all over you, litter sprinkled on top like a peanut covered Sundae...yes it's beautiful, we both know that, but they would never understand. Aren't I right, Kevy?”
Kevy doesn't, maybe can't, respond, just nods his head and smears cat litter across his lips.
“That's a good boy.”
Kneeling like a frog, he pats Kevy on the head.
Standing, “Right. So. Let's get the fun underway, shall we?”
A cat meows and brushes against a leg.
***
It's shot in a medium reversal of him dragging Kevy's body across the work bench.
“Murphmydjj...I...mmlove you,” Kevy mumbles through the fresh cat shit that's been stuffed in his mouth.
Brushing tools to the sides of the table in a clamorous swoop, he cackles and says, “I know you do, Kevy. That's why we trust each other for this.”
He hoists Kevy's naked body, which is covered with multiple species' shit, ejaculate, piss, and vomit, onto the table, then pulls Kevy back down, so half of Kevy's body is hanging off, limp but feet kicking in merriment or desperation, he couldn't say if he cared.
Then he gets really close to Kevy's face. Kevy sees his angelic blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair and thinks he looks as close to God, aka Kurt Cobain, as anyone ever could. Staring into the face of an angel, Kevy feels cold hands around his face that register as warm, and he lifts Kevy's head into position on the edge of the table.
To picture the position, picture what people sometimes call “curbstomping.” Now picture the exact opposite of that.
Kevy's face is bent back, with the top of his jaw nailed to the top of the table and the bottom of his jaw is stretched way open, showing his no tonsils all the way down the tube of his throat. It's nailed to the side of the table.
You feel this as the first day you got braces as a kid, how much that hurt. You feel this as little crucifixions all up and down your rows of teeth. You feel this as your neck about to snap.
Then he picks up the fork. He walks over to you with it slowly at first, doing a little dance like in Reservoir Dogs. You try speaking, but this just causes your tongue to freak out in all directions and, not wanting to die yet, you stop.
The first mark comes suddenly. He lunges at you unexpectedly and reaches deep, deep down inside your throat. He stabs the fork into your distended throat without restraint and you throw up blood and bile all over his hand. You taste blood and things you've never tasted before. It tastes like the blood coming from the puncture wound in your throat is flowing upwards.
And it is a puncture wound: you can feel, hear, air whistling in and out of your throat and you know he's broken through. Over the next hour he takes his time battering your throat, making holes in it, playing with your endless blood and vomit, until there just seems to be endless blood.
A cat meows and brushes against a leg.
Here's another one:
“Hey aren't you Bill Frasier?”
It's a gray 7-11 at nobody knows what time. Gray. Flicking fluorescent lights give the place a slowed down strobe effect. Gray everywhere. Bill Frasier pictures the gray as crude and all-encompassing, like he's a victim in a poorly shot snuff film.
Outside, a naked body is sprawled on the hood of a car, split open from neck to vagina. The ribs have been snapped into pieces and most of what was once housed inside is gone. The flesh on the outside of the gash that used to be a woman's body has been nailed hastily to the hood of the car, the tops of nails bashed in at weird angles.
A man whistles and walks past, fumbling for a Camel Light.
Bill Frasier stands at a 7-11 counter trying to open a candy bar. When he hears the voice behind him he starts, then focuses his attention back on the candy bar.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“Hey, yeah, Billy! Remember me, Robbie Schwanker?”
Bill looks down, fumbling with his candy bar wrapper, avoiding eye contact, trapped at the convenient store counter.
“Uh, yeah, Robbie. Hi.” Pause. “How have you been?”
“Oh, you know, you know. I'm a regional manager over at Pep Boys now!”
“That's great, Robbie,” Bill says, sounding dead inside.
“Yeah...Jesus, man, I haven't seen you since Senior year! What have you been up to?"
Bill stops twisting the wrapper, looks at Robbie's gray eyes, eyes that thankfully recall to Bill no memory of who this person was, and he says, “Nothing. I haven't been up to anything.”
Bill dimly realizes that he has Robbie at a loss but he couldn't care less about this faux pas. Robbie tries a different tactic.
“So, what about Jeanie Blew? I remember you two having a real heavy thing going. Man, what happened? Everyone thought you guys were going to get married!”
“We did,” says Bill, and the look on his face prompts an “I'm sorry” from Robbie.
“Don't be,” says Bill, his voice now perking up, him starting to eat his candy bar. “It was just one of those things.”
“Didn't work out?”
“Nope.” Bill tosses a square of the chocolate into his mouth and masticates loudly.
There's a pause, and then Robbie lowers his voice to say, “So I guess you got divorced?”
“Oh no,” Bill says, appearing totally at ease now, pushing the last of the candy bar into his mouth.
“No?”
“Nope. I killed her.”