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Apr 2 13:24 1997 from army of me
Here's a little story I've been working on, possibly for Swagzine. Tell me
what you think...
As usual, Mike Johnson was on the computer. Even though the BBS userlog
showed that he was the most frequent caller, Mike rarely posted. What
posts Mike did write always expressed one of two things: agreement with
his hero, Hentor, or hatred of his self-designated enemy, Horatio. You
could say that Mike had a limited mental repertoire. What's more, he had
no real reason for hating Horatio. He just did. Perhaps he thought that by
attacking Horatio, he was impressing Hentor. He was wrong, though. Hentor
even complained about Mike's monotonous posts; who wants to listen to a
broken record?
Mike had no choice, though. At least he didn't think he did. He was
comfortable with his one-line attacks; it was was he was used to. Besides,
he needed to attack Horatio. It made him feel good. Mike had nothing else
to make him feel good. Why else would he call so often? You could say that
Mike didn't have a life.
Mike felt that through his computer, he could escape from his empty
life. He could be in the presence of the curmudgeonly Hentor. For once, he
could feel cool. To prove his coolness, he agreed with everything Hentor
said. Never mind that he'd reduced himself to a lap-dog; to hang out with
the likes of Hentor, even if it wasn't it real time, was quite an
accomplishment for the socially retarded, cool clique-rejected Mike
Johnson. So Mike called the BBS whenever he could, hoping that Hentor had
called recently and left more posts for Mike to agree with...
Apr 2 17:37 1997 from Mike Swanson
I don't have time to read all that crap.
Apr 2 17:43 1997 from ex-lax
If you have time to call this bbs as often as you do, you've got plenty of
time to read army's message. I think he makes some good points, btw. For
example, about how we make enemies out of each other for no good reason.
Apr 2 18:21 1997 from Zeylan
Well, I'm not sure I like the Hentor character being portrayed as
"curmudgeony". And the story sort of goes nowhere. How about you throw
in some babes in the story, and have them fall in love with Hentor?
Then write in how Hentor uses and abuses them, and they love it, and then
he tosses them away like so much garbage. Then Hentor wins the lottery.
And make Hentor a national hero. That'd make the story better.
Apr 3 10:14 1997 from Null
I'm too busy laughing to think of a clever message.
Apr 4 12:15 1997 from army of me
Okay, how about this one?
As Mike Johnson went through the old BBS conversations he had saved to
disk, he felt a rage burning deep inside himself. He had returned to these
conversations (for the umpteenth time) for evidence that the person he had
decided to make his enemy, Horatio, was really a terrible person. What he
instead realized was that Horatio had something he lacked: a sence of
identity. Individuality. A willingness to be who he was. Mike Johnson was
outraged at this blatent assertion of individuality. This was something
Mike did not know how to express. Perhaps he was doomed to live forever
without a sense of who he was. Perhaps he would forever be shadow.
Hentor's lackey. Well, at least if he was a toady, it was HENTOR's toady,
damn it!
Mike Johnson turned off the computer. He wondered why he spent so much
time dwelling in the past. Recently he had sought to make Horatio look
bad, by quoting some conversations concerning Horatio that had taken place
several years ago. Mike hoped that all the other BBSers would join in this
mockery of Horatio. Instead, the reprinted conversations merely made Mike
look pathetic. Desperate. It proved that all everything Horatio said about
Mike (in response to Mike's constant attacks) was true.
Mike decided to see if he could separate himself from his computer for
a few minutes. He had done this once before, a few years ago; maybe he
could accomplish this again. He went into the kitchen, grabbed a soda and
a cookie. He wondered what his parents would think of his mindless attacks
on Horatio. Not to mention his toadyism toward Hentor. They'd be ashamed.
But it was partly their fault. They never expected that much of him. They
gave him no ambition. Yes, it was their fault.
Mike decided to go for a walk. His feet felt squishy between the shows
and the sidewalk, almost as if they were marshmallows. The sun was very
bright, and Mike thought about returning to his dim room. Suddenly two
skateboarders whizzed by, nearly careening into Mike! Mike spun around,
startled, nearly falling over. They nearly bumped into me! he thought. He
wondered what Hentor would do in such a situation; surely Hentor wouldn't
be as passive as Mike was inclined to be. Mike remembered that Hentor
cursed a lot, and how this seemed to impress him. "Fuck off, assholes!"
Mike screamed, startled by the sound of his voice. Flushing, Mike
continued his verbal assault, using every bad word he could think of, even
repeating many of them. By the time he was through, the skateboarders were
well out of earshot.
Shaking, Mike thought of how proud Hentor would be. He should go home
and e-mail Hentor a message about this! Then Hentor noticed that a number
of people were staring at him. They did not look proud. Some of them
looked puzzled. A few looked annoyed. One or two looked disgusted. The
younger people were smirking. "What a geek," Mike heard someone whisper.
Tears streaming down his face, Mike Johnson raced home. He locked the door
and ran to his room, puffing. Trembling, he turned on the computer. As the
screen came to life, its rays seemed to soften his pain.
Apr 4 12:18 1997 from Zeylan
In that last paragraph, you wrote that Hentor noticed people staring at
him, when you meant Mike. And dammit, Hentor needs to be portrayed as
more of a ladies' man.
Apr 4 15:42 1997 from ex-lax
Aside from the mistakes Zeylan pointed out, it was a good read! I vote to
put it in Swagazine.
Apr 4 17:14 1997 from Zeylan
We'll see.
Apr 5 22:17 1997 from army of me
The Mike Johnson saga continues...
Mike had the feeling again. The need. Nymphomaniacs feel this way about
sex. Gluttons feel it towards food. Musicians have it for their music.
And in Mike Johnson's case, the need was for a few minutes on the
computer, to say "I agree" a few times to Hentor, and to send a few hate
posts to Horatio. That was his passion. It was what he DID. When he dies,
there will be reference to it on his tombstone.
But this time, Mike's ritual was disturbed. You see, the sysop of the
BBS Mike frequented had a girlfriend. Her name was Winter Ether. She got
along quite well with Horatio, and Mike Johnson couldn't stand that. Why
did it have to be Horatio? Why was it never Mike Johnson? Women never
liked Mike. But it's not like they disliked him either, really. They
just...didn't seem to notice him. It's as if he didn't exist. And he knew
all the other guys were so much more handsome, entertaining, intelligent,
confident. It made him feel he didn't really exist. Mike had hoped that on
the computer, things would be different. After all, on the computer they
can't see how nondescript you are. Or can they?
Damn that Horatio! Why was Winter Ether talking to HIM? They were
probably even talking in e-mail. Mike had never received e-mail from a
woman. In fact, he hardly got e-mail at all, and the knowledge that some
people used this bbs almost exclusively for e-mail made Mike feel even
more ignored and unattractive.
Mike's attacks on Horatio that day were more vicious than ever. He hung
up, satisfied. But after wistfully turning off the computer, Mike's sence
of satisfaction shut off, just like the computer's images. He wondered if
a woman would ever love him. It seemed as if there was something in him
that just signaled to women that they shouldn't talk to him. So, he tried
to console himself. He told himself that women were sluts. That they were
airheads. That even if one did come up to him, he would only say a few
things, then leave, making her feel humiliated. Yeah, that's what he would
do...if it ever happened.
It occured to Mike that most of the guys on the bbs had the same
problem with women. The thought made him feel good. Then he remembered
that many of them talk about their girlfriends, and even wives. Craig
Claiborne had been married, twice. The sysop, Bartend, had Winter Ether.
Billabong Bob talked about sex all the time. Hentor, due to his studly
nature, was rumored to have slept with three women at once. And even
Horatio had introduced a girlfriend or two to bbsing. That jerk! He was
probably bringing girls in just to make Mike Johnson feel like a loser. A
complete zero. A royal geek.
Mike wondered what it would be like to be alone with a woman...no,
no. On a double date with a woman and Hentor! Now that would be living!
Hentor would get the prettier girl, of course. And if Mike's date
suggested that they make love, well, Mike would probably defer to Hentor
on that one, too. But just think about it! A double date with Hentor! Mike
drifted off to sleep, feeling better than he had in months. As he dreamed,
a smile appeared on his face, echoed by a small protrustion beneath the
blanket...
Apr 5 23:40 1997 from Zeylan
Okay, now I'm starting to like the Hentor character.
Apr 6 18:33 1997 from ex-lax
I wonder why...
Apr 6 19:41 1997 from Zeylan
Well, you shouldn't.
Apr 11 21:54 1997 from army of me
The Mike Johnson saga continues...
Mike Johnson felt hungry, so he fixed himself a sandwich. It was his
favorite, peanut butter and jelly, with so much jelly that some of it
squished out whenever Mike took a bite. It was a taste that returned Mike
to childhood. Life was so simple then. There was no "real world" to grind
him down, no cool clique to make him feel alienated, no women to remind
him of his undesirability as a mate. There was only himself, and mom and
dad...
Without warning, the telephone rang. This always surprised Mike; who
could possibly want to talk to him? Mike approached the telephone with
reverence. Could it be that Hentor had somehow found Mike's number, and
wanted to enlist Mike in a trip to see Star Wars? Or maybe they would have
a pizza together! Perhaps Hentor wanted to try some of Mike's video games?
Mike yanked the phone up. "Hentor!" he boomed. "Mike, are you alright?" It
was his mom.
As much as Mike yearned for someone to talk to, he hated when his
parents called. They never seemed to approve of him. They were never
impressed by his accomplishments. Once, Mike played Mario brothers for 11
hours straight. He was so full of pride that he phoned his dad's
workplace. But his father did not seem terribly impressed by Mike's
marathon; if anything, he seemed annoyed, maybe even a bit worried. Why
didn't Mike's parents understand him? Why didn't they appreciate him? Mike
remembered that, on television, they often talk about a "generation gap."
He decided that the reason his father was unimpressed with his diligence
at Mario bros. must have something to do with this.
By the time Mike's mom said goodbye, Mike felt only emptiness and
worthlessness. It was always like this. What's more, no matter what his
mom said, her tone always said the same thing: "I am so disappointed in
you. I am so let down. You're a total zero. Raising you was a waste of
time and money." Mike took another bite of his peanut butter and jelly
sandwich, but he had trouble swallowing. He decided to call the bbs.
Mike prayed that there would be some new messages from Hentor; if there
were, he would agree with them more toadyishly than ever. He needed to
let Hentor know how how his sence of appreciation, and the inspiration
Hentor's posts gave. Connecting to the bbs, Mike's fingers tapped the "y",
"e", and "s" keys in anticipation...
But there were no posts from Hentor. Hentor was probably in bed with
some girl, or kicking somebody's ass. He was doing something cool...
There were new messages from only one person. THE GIRL. WINTER ETHER,
THE SYSOP'S GIRLFRIEND. THAT BITCH! THAT SLUT! Mike's face flushed red.
His fingers trembled as he began to post. "Go away!" he told the girl.
"Leave us alone!" "WE HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Apr 12 11:46 1997 from Null
When you ignore the flame-attempt, the story is actually pretty funny.
Apr 13 13:34 1997 from Zeylan
Hm. So how many more chapters to go?
Apr 18 13:39 1997 from army of me
This next chapter will probably be the last. I think they need to be
rearranged, though. This next chapter is good, IMHO, but it's not the best
one to end with. The previous one probably is, or the one where Mike
screams profanities in the street and runs home. Also, I think the story
needs an introductory paragraph, explaining the story's biographical
nature, the name changes, etc. Is anyone up for the job? If not, I'll do
it myself. Anyway, here's the last portion of the Mike Johnson saga...
Mike Johnson was watching Star Wars, his favorite movie. The film
combined science fiction and fantasy, and offered Mike a pleasant world to
retreat to. Watching Star Wars, Mike felt liberated. The movie freed him
to be who he really was, and provided him with the closest thing he knew
to happiness.
In another, better universe, Mike would have been a different person.
He would be confident, strong, dashing. He would have an identity, a mind
of his own. He would be Luke Skywalker! He would wave his light sabre and
feel THE FORCE. And when Princess Leia approached him with lust in her
eyes, he would...he would...he would refer her to Hentor.
In his fantasies, Mike Johnson was Luke Skywalker - the hero. In
reality, Mike felt resigned to play the villain. But only on the bbs;
offline, he was completely incapable of asserting himself. He fancied that
when he called the BBS and attacked Horatio or Winter Ether, people were
awed by his displays of dark power. He believed that his curse-filled
messages seemed were cool and frightening. He thought that people
considered him tough, mean, relentless. Yes, he was the embodiment of
evil. When he posted these messages, Mike breathed very noisily. Like
Darth Vader.
Mike recalled how, when his mother used to scold him, he would sit
silently until she left the room. Then, he would leap from his chair and
grab a flashlight. Hands trembling he flicked the switch. Humming noisily,
Mike waved the object furiously. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he
slashed in the direction of his mother. Yes, it was mean. But she deserved
it. She went against THE FORCE.
Apr 18 13:39 1997 from army of me
What do you think?
Apr 18 15:35 1997 from Zeylan
Ehh.
Apr 18 15:46 1997 from Mike Swanson
I think we're hearing the death rattle of Iguana BBS. Appropriate, I
suppose, it should come from Luminary.
Apr 18 19:24 1997 from army of me
Notice how Mike waits until after Zeylan gives the latest chapter a
lukewarm review to criticize the story? He is sooooo predictable. "The
death rattle of Iguana bbs"? Hahahaha! This is the most active room on the
bbs. And most people are commenting favorably on the stories. You're a
joke, Mike.
Apr 18 20:50 1997 from Mike Swanson
Luminary: "gasp choke must kill Santa Barbara BBSing with my last breath"
Apr 18 21:14 1997 from ex-lax
It's interesting how Mike keeps calling Army "luminary" when it's been
established that this bbs doesn't work at 2400 baud, and even if Luminary
wanted to call, he wouldn't be able to...
Apr 19 06:20 1997 from Norbus
After all, it could be Seizure.
Apr 19 13:58 1997 from bad karma
Wait a second, Army. When was it "established" that this BBS does
not accept 2400 baud callers? As far as I recall, Norbus _disputes_ that
assertion.
Apr 19 17:05 1997 from Null
Repeating something enough times makes it true.
Apr 22 15:26 1997 from army of me
Okay, here's the final chapter of the Mike Johnson story. It gives the
story a good sence of closure, I think. Comments are welcome!
Mike Johnson didn't finish his french fries. In fact, he'd saved over
half of them. He carried the fries to his favorite spot on campus, eager
to perform what for him was an important ritual.
Mike entered the quadrangle, his pulse quickening. Would they be there?
Were they here? Yes! Mike's friends, the pigeons! Seeing Mike, the little
gray birds scampered towards him. Their gutteral noises seemed
unmistakably happy to Mike.
Few people knew it, but Mike had a unique talent. He could imitate
pigeon sounds better than anyone in the world. Anyone he had heard,
anyway. When Mike first befriended the pigeons, many years ago, he hoped
that they would eventually learn to talk to him in English. Why not?
Parrots can. But they seemed to forget Mike's lessons. So he decided to
learn the pigeon language instead. It was fun talking to the pigeons.
Strangely, Mike felt far more articulate when speaking pigeon.
Mike tossed the french fries to the birds, delighted by their
enthusiasm. He knew each bird intimately, and had even named each bird
after characters from the Star Wars trilogy. Feeding the pigeons gave Mike
feelings that he could not obtain elsewhere. He felt powerful. He felt
that he had something that was desirable (at least until the fries ran
out!). He felt befriended. And he felt loved.
Mike was scarcely aware of how strongly he identified with the pigeons.
Like them, he was lowly, diffident, clumsy, and nondescript. On the bbs,
other people wrote messages full of self assertion - messages like a
rooster's crow. Mike was content to merely agree with and emulate Hentor -
and write messages that resembled the cluck of a pigeon. Mike's messages
simply failed to add anything to the bbs scene.
Which is not to say that there is anything wrong with being a pigeon.
Mike was content this way, and who's to argue with contentment? We can't
all be roosters, eagles, and hawks. Pigeonhood is inevitable for some of
us, and Mike felt fate had given him this status. He didn't want to be
anything else.
Besides, he had all his pigeon friends: Han, Chewy, Obi, and Jabba.
They were good friends. They were always there, waiting for Mike in the
quad. They always greeted him enthusiastically in their soothing pigeon
language. An how they clamored for the french fries! Mike often wished he
had a french fry machine that churned out an endless supply of the crunchy
critters. That would make his friends so happy!
Something large and amorphous suddenly struck Mike on the head. One of
the pigeons had crapped on him! It was an enormous, wet, splotchy pigeon
dropping! The mottled feces trickled down from Mike in an assortment of
channels, like ice cream dripping from its cone. It ran from his eyes,
like tears, seeping into his clothing and mingling with his skin. Mike
struggled valiantly to resist from tasting it.
Apr 24 15:34 1997 from Null
Huh.
Apr 26 21:50 1997 from ex-lax
Cool! If anything belongs in Swagzine, its the Mike Johnson story! I mean,
its the one contribution that actually talks about the SB scene...
Apr 27 00:50 1997 from Zeylan
Maybe I'll archive it and put it on the page, but probably not in issue 4.
May 9 21:26 1997 from Swagman
You could print it out on thin tissue, slit it into 4" width, roll it up
on a tube and put it in the ladies room at the Lobero where it would at
least see some circulation...
May 10 13:33 1997 from Norbus
That would explain the crunchy hairs in the story.
May 12 21:55 1997 from ex-lax
Ick.
May 24 22:47 1997 from army of me
Now, back by popular demand, the Mike Johnson series continues!!!
The BBS had been down for a few days. Mike was a nervous wreck. There was
no contact with Hentor, and Mike felt as if his life had lost all order
and meaning. Without the BBS, how would he fill his time? Without Hentor,
who would be his idol, his guru, his God? Who else could he find to play
lackey to?
Mike decided to try going outside again. As he opened the door, the
hinges screached - a frightening sound, which Mike interpreted as a
warning. Was it wise for him, a creature of cyberspace, to venture into
the world of so-called "reality"? In the outside world, you couldn't
appear powerful by typing profane messages. In the outside world, you
couldn't make yourself disappear by unplugging the modem. The outside
world was a strange and threatening place.
But just because there were differences between cyberspace and the
outside world, did that mean that Mike should not go out? Maybe the tools
Mike learned on the BBS could serve him in reality, too. On the BBS, Mike
discovered that if he wrote fawning messages to other BBSers, they would
accept him, even defend him when the need arose. So he made a career of
being a toady. Perhaps, Mike thought, as he braced himself against the
searing sunlight, the doctrine of Toadyism would work in the real world,
as well.
TO BE CONTINUED
May 26 14:37 1997 from Null
er
May 27 15:18 1997 from army of me
Mike's walk was like a duck's waddle. Though his fingers were at home on
the computer's keyboard, his legs were ill at ease on the sidewalk. The
outside world was foreign, and forbidding.
Although Mike was much more comfortable relating to the world through
the computer, his messages revealed a strange lack of comfort. Comfortable
people do not turn themselves into lackeys. Happy people do not attack
others without provocation. Mike's toadying messages to Hentor, and his
disparaging posts to Winter Ether (the sysop's girlfriend) revealed a
fragile personality, or an absence of personality. Yet, Mike had spent
hours crafting this persona. He had recognized right away that Hentor was
a head honcho; what else was there to do but suck up to him? Hentor's
posts became Mike's gospel, and when some of these posts expressed
disapproval of Winter Ether, Mike emulated this disapproval immediately.
His persona now had two aspects: reverence for Hentor, and hatred of
Winter Ether. That was enough for Mike.
Unfortunately, these values did not serve Mike outside the computer
world. He had boasted proudly to his parents that Hentor liked him, and
was astonished when they seemed unimpressed. He announced to anyone within
earshot that he hated Winter Ether. But nobody seemed to care.
When Mike reached the little store on the corner, he was sweating. The
sun was hot, and Mike yearned for the coolness of his computer-cave. But
the other urge was stronger: Mike needed a Hentor substitute. Surely there
was someone out there, who would accept Mike, at least until the Sizzled
Lizard BBS was back up?
Mike shuffled into the store, and made a beeline for the candy bars.
Mike liked to think that his posts were intellectual chocolate for Hentor:
always sweet and encouraging. Mike felt that his admiration for Hentor was
the driving force of his life, it was his essence. His clumsy body was
just the wrapper.
The clerk was a large man, bearded and somewhat fat. "Hi," Mike said
meekly, but the man just grunted. Mike wondered if Hentor looked like this
man; he had heard that Hentor was a bit bulky - though in a way that
attracted the world's most beautiful women - himself. Mike had been a
scrawny boy, but when another BBSer teased Hentor for being overweight,
Mike prompty increased his intake of french fries and chocolate bars. Now
he was fat, too.
the clerk took Mike's money in a way that was gruff but appealing. Mike
wanted to ask if the man ever called BBSs. Then the clerk threw the candy
bars into a bag, as though they were boring and worthless. Then the man
greeted the next customer with a hearty "Hello, there!" She was a tall,
blonde lady in a skimpy suit. And all of the hostility that he had ever
felt for females welled up inside Mike.
May 27 19:17 1997 from Zeylan
Is this fucking story ever going to end? Someone kill these characters
off already.
May 27 19:23 1997 from Zeylan
Hell, I'll do it.
So the blonde lady reached into her handbag and produced a large
semi-automatic weapon with armor-piercing ammunition. She levelled it at
the clerk and began barking orders at him. "Open the register! Give me
the cash! Don't look at me!"
Mike began to sweat. Aggressive chicks made him nervous and excited all
at the same time. His crotch began to itch.
"Now get on the floor!" screamed the blonde broad. "Face down!
Count to a thousand! I see you get up and I'll put a bullet through your
forehead!" She spun around and saw Mike standing between her and the exit.
"Move it," she insisted. But Mike was busy peeing on his leg to do much
of anything. He stood there, paralyzed with fear.
The weapon in her hand began shaking violently with the bursts of
discharging. She unloaded the gun's magazine into Mike, laughing as his
body shook and convulsed with the entry of each bullet. When the gun was
empty, she reloaded and began pumping slugs into his lifeless, spasmodic
carcass.
The doors flung open and she disappeared into the night.
THE END already.
 
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