Another night alone, sitting in front
of the computer with a mouse in one hand and a vodka on the rocks in
the other, trying to kill time before complete exhaustion overtakes
me, hopefully before the sunrise. I aimlessly click back and forth,
page after page of news prattle, stupid people doing stupid things in
stupid videos, social media sites to catch up with friends and
family, playing free unskilled games in hopes of draining your wallet
that I had no intention of ever purchasing, and the occasional bit of
fantasy self-fulfillment porn. The most amusing thing that I find
from all of this cyber-wandering is the constant bombardment of
cheesy ads supposedly directed at me personally with my hometown
shoehorned in the text that has been gathered from my IP address, a
half-assed attempt to impress me into thinking, “Oh, golly! This
MUST be legit! Let me just click on this and download what couldn't
possibly be a trojan virus!” Idiots. I'm not new to the ways of
the internet. I'm a goddamn pro at wasting as much of my adult time
as possible with my little two buttoned friend!
Later on into the night and into my fifth beverage, I notice one of these banner ads blinking with neon red letters at the top of a news site. I only noticed it because it had my name flashing as the first word. “James!” it read, “MILFs in your area want to meet you! One MILF is just 10 miles away!” I laughed heartily to myself, nearly spitting out some of my precious vodka. Who still uses that term these days? MILF? Just another example of how the advertisement industry is way out of touch with the world. I swallow my almost airborne mouthful and furrow my brow a bit. How did they know my name? I didn't think you could get a name from an IP address, just a location. Damn, these programming nerds are getting really good at their jobs these days! I click refresh for the latest news articles on the site.
When the page fully loaded, I was knocked back in my chair, mouse flung from my hand, and a single ice cube fell onto the floor and slid behind me. I was assaulted by an extremely loud, shrill dinging sound from the computer speakers, as if a deranged slot machine was trying to murder me with my winnings. I gather myself and reach to turn the speakers off. I don't ever remember turning them up that loud. I hardly even needed the speakers when I browsed the web. I scanned the page for what could have possibly made that audio attack. “James! MILFs in your area want to meet you! One MILF is just 9 miles away!” That was the only ad on the page and the only possible source of annoyance. I thought it was weird that the same ad was showing since sites like these usually keep a plethora of them on cycle. I guess the MILF people paid extra to be more prominent. I shrugged it off and continued reading.
I found an article on cyber attacks
and hacking that have been happening lately. I thought that was
amusing since I felt semi-invaded myself from the shrieking MILF
banner. News seemed to be slowing down for the night, so I clicked
on the title to read more, half out of interest, half out of boredom.
The first thing to load was my friends at MILF Incorporated.
“James! MILFs in your area want to meet you! One MILF is just 7
miles away!” Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Was this to be my
fate for the remainder of the night? I was getting tired of
MILF-vision. So tired in fact that I was thinking about striking
that category from my more adult related browsing. Wait. Seven
miles? Didn't that say ten the last time? Or was it nine? I know
it wasn't seven. So, what, am I now in a MILF countdown? MILF live
GPS updates? “Got MILF? You're about to!” Damn, these nerds
are good!
The article didn't load. The only
thing on the page was the banner. It wasn't the first time this has
happened. It's not like I have the most advanced ISP or connection,
so there's bound to be some hiccups. I move the arrow to the refresh
icon once again and click. No article, same ad, updated distance.
“James! MILFs in your area want to meet you! One MILF is just 5
miles away!” That is one fit MILF to be able to run two miles in
five seconds! I'm almost tempted to meet this Olympian MILF!
Fifty-year-old woman with way too much plastic surgery, caked on
makeup, huge muscular legs shooting out of a short leopard print
skirt. I chuckled, amused at my own jokes. The article must either
be down, not updated, or something technical that my limited
education is not privy to. I click on my saved bookmark to go back
to the main page of the news site. “James! MILFs in your area
want to meet you! One MILF is just 4 miles away!” That was the
only thing on the page. I wondered if the news site was another
victim of the recent hacking hijinks and was taken down. Oh well, I
was pretty much done with that website, anyway. I clicked on the
bookmark to go to my personal e-mail.
“James! MILFs in your area want to meet you! One MILF is just 3 miles away!” This isn't funny anymore. No e-mail, just MILF, and the bitch is getting closer. I was starting to get a bit freaked out. Two separate sites taken down and replaced with the MILF ad? I close the browser window and open it again in hopes of washing away the MILF. “James! MILFs in your area want to meet you! One MILF is just 2 miles away!” It seems that you just can't wash MILF out. I know I didn't download anything, so this couldn't possibly be a virus. Was I being hacked somehow? For what purpose? With all honesty, I am not that interesting of a person to go through all this trouble for. I have no money in my bank account, so good luck with that, pirate assholes! Wanna steal my identity? Have at it! I barely want it myself! I furrowed my brow and click refresh.
“James! MILFs in your area want to
meet you! One MILF is just 1 miles away!” It didn't even bother
updating “miles” to the singular form. With a shaky hand, I
reach for my glass and chug down that last of the watered-down vodka.
Gross. Vodka flavored bottled water is not something that would
sell well. I click the refresh button and wonder what the next
update would say. My heart sank into my asshole and I felt like I
was about to vomit up the entire contents of my stomach.
“James! A MILF is right outside your
door!”
No. That couldn't be... that couldn't
be possible. Even if “they” know where I live, they couldn't
possibly travel that fast. Then my mind started to wander to dark
places. What does MILF even stand for? Murdering Insane Lunatic
Fucker? Mutant Inbred Lashing Freak? Malicious Insidious Laughing
Phantom? No, wait, that's a “P”. Oh my god, why even quibble
with myself over inane details? There's someone at my door. At
least that's what I am told. By an ad. On the internet. The more I
think about it, the more ridiculous it seems. It just cannot be
true. It can't! Even if there was someone at my door, there's three
locks on it that would keep them out. There was no way they could
get in. I was safe. I click refresh.
A sound grabbed my attention before I could look at the screen as it loaded. The half melted ice cube that was behind me slid across the flood and hit my foot. I stared at it for what seemed like hours. I did not want to look at the screen for fear of it confirming my suspicions. If I don't look, it's not true. I'll just stay like this, in this position, for the remainder of the night. I'll wait it out. I'll wait for the sunrise to burn away all of the horrible things that come out at night. That's how it works right? I couldn't even fool myself. There's no way that I could sit here with my heart beating as hard as it was. I'd die of some kind of heart failure or aneurysm. I knew that I would have to buck up and see this through. I slowly raise my head to face the computer screen. I swallowed hard as my suspicions were accurate.
“James! A MILF is right behind you!”
Terror gripped me like a pit-bull with
a raw steak, thrashing my insides around. Tiny beads of sweat formed
on my brow. A singular tear leaked slowly down my cheek. My bottom
lip was quivering as if it was twenty below in the room. I froze in
my chair, unable to breathe, unable to blink, unable to move. When
everything was absolutely still, I heard it. Breathing. Not my own,
but right behind me. I dared not look around. I knew that if I
looked at it, I'd die, either by its hands or my own fright.
All moisture had left my mouth. I
tried to swallow, but could only muster up the motions with a dry,
sharp sensation, like drinking sand. I had no idea what to do. Jump
out of my chair in hopes of running away? No. It came here miles
away in mere minutes. There was no escaping it. Fight back? With
what? I scanned the desk, but couldn't find anything worthy of a
weapon strong enough to fight off what I imagined to be eight feet of
pure horror. What will happen if I click the ad? Could that have
been the answer this whole time? “You had the power to go home all
along, Dorothy!” I gather up every bit of strength I could, slowly
move the mouse in hopes of not disturbing “The MILF”, and hover
the cursor on the ad. I clicked. Nothing. I clicked three times.
Still nothing. The ad was just a static picture, not a link at all.
I move the mouse over the refresh
icon. A ferocious battle between my curiosity and my sheer primal
terror began. I could still hear it breathing. Should I refresh?
What would happen? Would this be the very last thing that I ever do?
It's already behind me. Is it waiting for the final click as a
confirmation to attack? I lick my dehydrated lips and close my eyes.
Curiosity had won.
I click refresh...
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