This New Internet Troll Who Keeps Threatening To Kill Me Is Kind Of A Prick

This New Internet Troll Who Keeps Threatening To Kill Me Is Kind Of A Prick

 

I suppose I should be flattered, maybe

or disappointed in humanity

or equally outraged

or sitting in a quiet bar somewhere listening to Steve Perry

and re-reading Dune

but I’ve got my very own literary Internet Troll stalker now

He’s read a bunch of my books

and in his initial internet introduction there was the implication

that he liked them, that they’d made a connection

and he even apologized for intruding but he was wondering if I could share

a little insight into a few of the broken hearted ones

that I’ve put out there over the years

and his tone was gentle, almost tender

like how I imagine a self-involved prick would speak to a stern cop

writing him a ticket for making love to an Arbys roast beef sandwich in public

or the way John Hinkley Jr. tried to come across

when he was writing Jodie Foster about how great it must be,

just being Jodie Foster

and even more so when it rains

but I’m not Jodie Foster

ass hole (learn how to separate words you stunted prick)

so when he started ranting like a fist full of stolen lunch money

bunkered down in the 39 year old sweaty pocket

of a spoiled 8 year old

about a particular person who I will always care for

and wish only the best things that are still possible to obtain

in this bullshit Trump inspired hate filled version of new America

I skipped straight to the end

because I’ve got better things to do

(finish reading this importantly great book about tyranny,

and I’ve got a novel to finish, and also on the TV right now

they’re playing back to back episodes of The Incredible Hulk)

then trudge through an unsolicited manifesto like that

and I replied like they replied in the 1930’s

honestly, respectfully, while snorting something they used to call Rum

I replied with a simple response, super-simply

 

“Fuck off, Carl.”

 

while also maybe thinking, whoever said it was always nice meeting a fan

had a warped definition of ‘nice’ while also part-way figuring

that was that

which it wasn’t, my brand new stalker who’s favorite hobbies

seem to be tough guy talking on the internet, sloppily referencing

long sections from the Mad Max movies, and reiterating the cliché-fact

that he’s secret named himself after a 1970’s Charlie Bronson vigilante

who’s superpower is squinting like he hasn’t taken a bowl movement

since the 1960’s and shooting stunt guys in the head

 

(Ha! not so long story (it’s only been a week now maybe) short

Mister Smoochbritches has spent his recent days doing that thing that he does,

sticking his dick in and out of an old Easy Bake Oven while screaming “Oh Bethany!”

and threatening to kill me

 

Well, Sir!

(if that is your dick’s real name)

I am no stunt double

There is only one of me

And you’re gonna have a hard time sneaking up on me

while I’m at work at Chuck E. Cheese

when I don’t actually work at Chuck E. Cheese!

That’s just false info I’ve floated out into internetspace

because 1. I love Chuck E. Cheese

and also 2. I thought it was funny

and now that that’s where you’ve promised I’ll meet my own doom

3. Because now it makes you funny

 

Funny little man

with his multi-paragraph stutter

(Historical note: You don’t need to send every draft version threat

about how you’re going to kill me. Just send the one you like best.)