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Avatar: 97127 Tue Jan 06 09:47:16 -0500 2009

[The Scrotal Safety-

Level 69 Troll


I tried to take my mind off the horrible taste by making conversation as I took tiny sips. I asked about Mr. Bootyhole’s work. He’s a writer, he said, for all sorts of thing, and does some marketing, too. He did bring up writing for and helping produce an internet game (hah! He had NO IDEA I was a spy FROM that game!), but didn’t elaborate, probably on purpose given its horrid nature. He specifically mentioned nothing about making a gimmick alt and finding work as a moderator there. Dastardly.

I asked about his home, and we talked about the housing market in both our cities. I accidentally mentioned that I lived at home with my parents, *and* that I’m 39 years old, but I made up a lie about having done that only to save up and buy a house, which I’d totally and triumphantly done at a steal of a price. He told me that his place was small, but that his home-town had ridiculously expensive properties. I just love how these elitist liberals find pbumive-aggressive ways to tell you how rich they are. It must be genetic. Again, he purposefully didn’t mention anything about moderating Forumwarz from his home under the name MELLTD FACE. Grrr.

I asked about his education, and future plans. He mentioned the idea of going back to school for video game design, which I enthusiastically supported. Forumwarz community, you owe me if this game ever stops sucking as hard. He also said he loves his job and the people he works with. By this I knew he was referencing his relationship with Evil Trout. He did say “loves” with that certain erection-voice. But again, he did not mention also loving roleplaying as MELLTD FACE.

We continued to talk, me trying to appear more and more fruity in an attempt to get the information out of him that I wanted. At some point, I must have really gotten into the role: I found myself genuinely getting into the conversation and actually feeling good toward him.

After a while, I had to urinate fiercely and excused myself to do so. It was then that I checked my watch and realized we’d been talking for nearly three hours, and I’d actually started enjoying JB’s company. I was terrified, obviously. So terrified, in fact, that I decided to abort the mission.

I returned to the table and made up a story about how I needed to quickly leave to get to IKEA before closing hours, to buy furniture for my fictitious new house. In reality, it was only a slight lie: I needed to get there for the all-you-can-eat Swedish Meatballs for $5. JB, being savvy, pretended to have a friend to go meet, too. I wondered if perhaps they were meeting to moderate Forumwarz as MELLTD FACE, but at that point didn’t care anymore. I had started to like Jalapeno Bootyhole. I had to get the hell out of there.

We exited the building and started walking back toward Coon Square. I began to feel dizzy from the combination of heat and terror, and also what I started to realize was a mbumive caffeine and sugar hit from the Spunky Monkey ****. My body seemed to drag along at a snail’s pace, never seeming much closer to getting away from the unforgivable situation. I prayed for deliverance.

God existed that day, for JB mentioned his “friend” again and said he’d catch a bus to go see “her” (lol) on the intersecting street behind us. We exchanged fond goodbyes and good-to-meet-yous, which at least were the least phony part of our day. After all, I was fondly saying goodbye and getting the hell out of three hours in which I did indeed inexplicably become fond of him, and I’m sure he was fondly looking forward to finding the weed, booze and gay hookers he was looking for. We parted ways and headed off. I was exhausted.

As I picked up my Lil’ Rascal Obesity Scooter and entered my car, I thought that the day’s efforts and frustrations and sheer terrors of enjoyment had all been for naught. I hadn’t found out whether or not MELLTD FACE was Jalapeno Bootyhole. I thought that all the way back home and to my computer, where I logged into Forumwarz. I thought it as I started summarizing my day in this post. But then I had an idea.

I looked through Melltd Face’s post history, and found one, “Posted On: 08/07/2010 6:35PM.” Converted to my local time, this is 5:35PM.

I checked my watch again, as well as the detailed diaries I’d kept. I’d physically been with Jalapeno Bootyhole from 3:45 to 7:15PM, and he hadn’t left my sight or done anything on his cell phone besides what looked like reading, a feminist blog.

In short, Jalapeno Bootyhole could NOT be MELLTD FACE. MELLTD FACE posted at 5:35PM. I was with Jalapeno Bootyhole, in person, the whole time.

And I live to tell the tale.


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