The fight on the net that night was a common one. It involved how obsessively some of the girls – all of them in actual fact – were about following the ‘top’ talent of the day. This usually equated with whoever had an on-going gig on television, but also performed locally and ‘live’ enough to be accessible. An interesting alchemy David hoped to emulate and perfect when his time came.
David had been around the boards and rooms for long enough now – about two years – to know that there was a flow to it. Groups of fans came and went – usually on a yearlong cycle. A pecking order existed, made primarily on length of tenure, but also on avidity of interest and the boundaries, if any, these girls had in attacking others. The ‘cool ones’ went to everything and they were vicious in their attacks on others. Anyone new who threatened their crown was immediately branded mad, delusional, stalkeresque. It didn’t matter that they were thus derided for activities that the ‘cool group’ had perfected and routinely undertook themselves. The hypocrisy was lost on them. The ‘cool’ had established their right, somehow, to be obsessive without the questioning, usually because they’d just hung on in there when they first ‘arrived’ on the boards and waited out similar accusations made about them.
Eventually they – the anointed ‘cool’ – would move on and those that had clung on despite their attacks would assume the crown and begin the attack on the newer ones again. It was like a living beast, feeding on its own young. It was predictable, reliable, and vastly entertaining.
It was in full flight that night. Lizzie, one of those Neanderthals that had waited the others out and now was part of the ‘inner circle’, or ‘elite’ as they laughingly and inaccurately labelled themselves, was deriding another girl who she saw regularly at the tapings of comedy television.
Lizzie: She was there again, she came every night, it’s pathetic and I couldn’t take photos because the stupid bitch was taking so many with a flash…
Sarah: A flash? What the…
Petrie: Everyone KNOWS that you can’t use a flash…
Lizzie: Exactly! And so it just ruined it for all of us, and it wouldn’t matter, but she tried on the other nights too, so because she was always there…
Sarah: God she’s a stalker..
Lizzie: Yes, she is, poor Anthony he must be so frightened seeing her there every night..every night..I can guarantee you she was…
Sarah: It feels like she’s stalking us now too!
Lizzie: Yeah! It does..she always wants to talk to us..she always wants to talk about Anthony..she’s obsessed with him!
Petrie: And us! And us!
At this point David burst into laughter at his terminal. They hadn’t noticed he’d stopped interacting, that his moniker ‘Vlad’ had gone silent. They were carried away. He was too amused to type. My god, someone obsessed with them? Lizzie was the size of a house, Petrie looked like someone who didn’t have a house let alone a home to go to, and Sarah always seemed like someone who should be locked up in a very special house with all white, padded walls.
Yep, you’d get obsessed with them, David thought.
You are a little obsessed with them though, said Voice, just not in a nice way. Not in a way that they’d like.
David was so amused by his internal reverie, and the others so involved in their vitriol, that no-one noticed a new moniker join the chat room. After a few more minutes of the banter, the new person decided to say something.
Schadenfreude:You girls are so hypocritical
Lizzie:What the fuck? Who are you?
Schadenfreude:Just one who notices you accuse others of doing what you do yourself, all the time
Petrie: You’re the stalker aren’t you?
Schadenfreude:How amusing, no I’m not. I can assure you. I’ve never even seen her. But I’ve seen all of you, and none of you are in a position to carry on so..
Lizzie: Be civil, I’m a moderator here, I can have you thrown out
Schadenfreude:Can you? Can you really? Well, perhaps you can..perhaps…but why would you, just because I tell the truth?
Lizzie: You don’t understand the truth, you don’t have the history..
Schadenfreude:Why do you presume that, pray tell?
Lizzie: You’re new!
Schadenfreude: Am I?
Lizzie: Or you’re someone we know playing some stupid game. I’ll check your IP number…
Schadenfreude: Be my guest..I’m no-one you know, not really, no-one at all.
Petrie: Yep, that’s right, you’re a..nobody!
Schadenfreude:LOL. That’s your best shot? But then, you always come in just a bit too late with your jokes, don’t you Petrie, and your intellect is as big as your deformed little feet..
Petrie: What the fuck…
Schadenfreude:Could you people come up with some original responses please? Or is that beyond you?
(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved