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  The Chatter Box : Blathering On
Messages 1 2 3 

The story of a troll 2 by kristinekm on 2 July 2005 4:47pm
I think it's about time to make a fresh thread :) We've got quite a story!

Chapter one

A boy sits hunched at a flickering computer screen the curtains drawn an a shaft of light hits his NHS glasses~ he winces as it soft light beams onto his pale skin. For one moment he forgets what its like to feel the sun against his face and laugh amongst his friends..*he sighs* and a small tear forms in the corner of his eye as he remebers what life was once like for him..he brushes it away frantically scared of becoming normal and turns back to the computer screen.

he surfs the web searching whilst he listens to his mum playing with his sister down stairs.. anger wells inside his body and his fingers shake 'why didnt my mother ever love me like my sister' he spits with anger spraying the screen with his putrid wet breath....

then the phone rings, the novelty telephone by his bed with a receiver shaped like an unmentionable part of the male anatomy. The pale boy glances at it, apprehensive. Perhaps it is a salesperson ringing in a desperate attempt to unload a shipload of double glazing to some poor defenceless mug? Perhaps it is his father ringing to say he’ll be late home from work at the local seedy nightclub? Or perhaps, just perhaps the caller is actually an individual from the outside world who has finally noticed his existence? He staggers from his chair; a perfect imprint of his rear end remains embedded in the seat. He stumbles, head bent, his body still arched in its familiar ‘web-surfing’ position, through the numerous tomato-stained pizza boxes, through the piles of trashy comics and magazines that have accumulated in uneven piles across the moth eaten carpet that horrifies his mother to the extent that she dares not enter the room…and finally over the scrunched up lists of the websites that he so passionately detests, the websites filled with people who actually have lives…

He reaches the phone, pale and bony fingers to the receiver and then, slowly, hesitantly, he lifts it to his ear… “Hello I wonder if you’ve heard of our latest offer? We can give you double glazing at prices that….” He throws down the receiver in anguish and emits a long drawn out high pitched shreak, flailing his scrawny trolling arms wildly around... and then slowly he recedes back into the meaningless existence he so pitifully indulges in…

...Then the poor and spotty boy turns around wanting to go back to his best and only friend the computer, but as he does so he stumble upon some old forgotten advertising circulars lying on the floor in all the other mess. On the front page is a sunny beach. “Oh, to be in Hawaii” the boy thinks with half-naked girls in grass skirts. He glances in his empty wallet and watch the moth flicker in the light from the lone light bulb in his room. No, he has again forgotten that he wouldn't be able to travel, because broadband, bit and byte have consumed all he has.
Then suddenly, he gets a brainwave he will go to the nice travel site he knows of, here he can speak with people of an equal mind, longing to travel. But as he again sits in his usual position in front of the screen, he gets overwhelmed by how real people who visit this site are, so full of life and so eager to learn more about new things. His spirit is lightened his mood rises and he lift his fingers to write his first message, but alas, he cannot figure out to write, he gets scared, depressed and angry with all this people who can express their thoughts, feelings and dreams so well, therefore his first message is "Hi I am a self-confessed troll and nothing else. I will destroy this boring site and Mr Plain is so dumb"...

Chapter two

The boy is now very satisfied with himself. He has found out that he actually is good at something – provoking other people and he simply loves to get people to react on his posts. It really, really gives him a kick to see how angry or hurt people can be and it teases him to take the provocations even further.
Uplifted he goes to bed with an evil grin on his face dreaming that he one day will concur the entire internet and become the most evil vicious troll of them all, the master troll. When that happens he will – of course – be idolized as a mighty man and people will seek to please him, because they fear his fury. He will then start teaching other trolls how to be nasty, evil and cruel and he will, the boy dreams, make – a master race…

In fact he will become so famous that chat show hosts will start inviting him on their shows. He dreams of confronting Jonathan Ross and the 5 poofs and a piano on his show and abusing them all roundly, and hopes it will be the same show as Michael Palin to add particular insult to injury.
In his dream though to his horror Jonathan Ross turns into a Dalek being chased through the streets by Jack Bauer on 24, and the troll is being launched in a missile to destroy the Big Brother house!!
Sweating he wakes in terror and realises that he should get out more. Too much trolling on the net and too much late night TV is taking its toll.

He decides to take up a hobby, something that might throw him in the path of other human beings, bring him into the light of day, maybe ping pong or pottery... but the fear of being sociable still gnaws at his soul. He has no knowledge of how to make polite conversation, no grasp of basic manners or any concept whatsover of how to engage in one on one interaction with another human being. In his despair he collapses into the moth eaten swivel chair by his desktop. The familiar humming of the monitor is too much; his fingers itch for the mouse. No! He tells himself, I will not succumb to this! But then he feels himself, itching, groping, reaching for the mouse and then almost at once it is within his oily grasp. The feel of the plastic coating, the friction of mouse against mouse pad is too much. He his clicking and typing, the urges have returned and he trolls on with redoubled vigour, vandalising websites, insulting strangers and generally causing havoc amongst the people who instil within him so much unfounded jealousy…
He tries to reason with himself. ‘Maybe I should stop’ he says aloud and in the silence that follows broken only by the gentle humming of his computer, the troll’s weak mind can almost be heard working overtime…

...but I can't stop, I am sad and lonely, have no friends and no life, the only thing I can do is to go to the website where the nice people are and cause mayhem and upset, but they are such nice people, as he thinks about this, a tear rolls down his oily, greasy cheek. If only I could talk to them, be nice and not be a troll and be horrible to them, but I can't, I am a troll and I am horrible, greasy and smelly.

All day at work, in the greasy burger joint at a service station on the M6, he tries his best to be friendly. He knows he has anger problems, and having asked his only friend the computer for advice, he wants some friends. The only problem is, no one cares. The most he can say to a customer is "do you want fries with that?" before the next one in the queue barges forward. Not even his colleagues care. They make him do the most menial and disgusting chores, like licking out the deep-fat fryer, and scrubbing the toilets. All this disappointment and anger he manages to hide, until he gets home.
Then he scurries upstairs to his attic, ignoring his mum's query about his day. Navigating the tip that is his lair, he reaches his computer and pounces on it, sobbing his heart out into the cold metal shell. He pulls himself together and wipes the tears (and a lot of grease) from his disgusting face. He boots up the computer and logs on to his favourite website, Palin's travels. Finally he can let out all his pent up anger, and does so, getting braver and braver with each insulting message he writes. "Nobody can see me", he crows, "so I can say anything! Mwahahahahaaaaa!!". This evil triumphant laugh having ended in a coughing fit, he decides not to talk, just type.........

…the boy then decides to take a new turn in his destruction of the otherwise lovely site; he will start
a thread and then log on as other people with other usernames and make new posts so it looks as if many people support his ideas. Wow, the boy thinks, getting high on the apparent support. To have real people to support his ideas and think of them as brilliant would be his highest wish, that someone will think of him as a smart and clever boy. But alas, no one do, they only get hurt, angry and irritated with his annoying and more and more stupid ideas because he can't think of new stuff - he was never good at thinking - but he now gets some kind of kick by his new system of self replies.

Then he gets another rare brain wave, why not impersonate Michael Palin and hurt all the Palinites by telling them he is disappointed in them. By doing this the boy can hurt even more people in revenge of the many people who laugh behind his back or mock him...

... sadly as the troll neither knew how to spell michael palin nor did he have any basic concept of grammar, punctuation or indeed the remotest shred of intellect. As a result his attempts were flimsy and feeble and quickly seen through by the Palinites. 'Foiled again!' he exclaimed (having picked up most of his vocabulary from cliched second rate comic books)He needed a plan, something new, something bold something that would rank him the ulmighty troll of all trolls. He would call this (creatively) the GRAND MASTER PLAN...

Chapter three

The young boy looks at himself in the mirror and suddenly, he sees a spot! There! Right on the tip of his nose! Feeling both sick and frightened, he glances swiftly into his underpants and his horror keeps growing! Hairs! Oh, damn! Teenage... The young troll feels all the more misunderstood and he has an idea... Why not try and have some comfort from the people in the website? But they know he is a troll. He decides then to take another name again and to sound almost convincingly nice to the male users at least. He goes to the chatroom and makes friends with some people. But, to his horror, teenage is again taking its toll on him , he is speaking to a girl- yes, a real one- and now he begins to think of dirty things... He has never been a genius, even his mother knows it, but his hormons don't need a brain! The troll then waits, waits, waits, tries to sound funny and clever to the male user and still waits...for him to leave! There! The chatroom is almost empty, he is alone with the girl, and now it is he who empties his dirty mind on the board, he is speaking to an unknown girl and tells her all the rude words he knows- oh, if his mummy knew...!
Tomorrow, he will be a hero! His friends will envy him, for sure! ...but he can't tell them, he has to keep his little secret...and besides... he has no friends...
Re: The story of a troll 2 by beccles on 2 July 2005 4:53pm
Wow this thing is getting so long! There have been additions to the other page that havent been pasted here if you'd like to add them too. I feel we are giving J.K.Rowling a run for her money!
Re: The story of a troll 2 by beccles on 2 July 2005 4:54pm
oh good you added it!
Re: The story of a troll 2 by missfrog on 2 July 2005 4:56pm
Thank you for that, btw! I'm happy to take a part in this story! *grins*
Re: The story of a troll 2 by bruey on 2 July 2005 7:38pm
Its good too
Re: The story of a troll 2 by Godfather on 2 July 2005 11:34pm
Yes,but isn't just as sad spending so much time writing about such a character. Where has "your" life gone to, KristineKM? You're ending up like your creation (dramatic music)
Re: The story of a troll 2 by bruey on 3 July 2005 12:58am
No she's not Godfather, all she's doing is keeping the story together, cos its a bit of a bugger trying to read a story in a million pieces. She deserves our thanks not to be had a go at.
Re: The story of a troll 2 by beccles on 3 July 2005 9:01am
And plus, the story is made up of several different individuals' contributions anyway, which makes it more interesting. Its just a bit of fun, perhaps you would like to exercise your literary prowess and add to it GF?
Re: The story of a troll 2 by kristinekm on 3 July 2005 3:00pm
Thanks beccles and thanks Bruce you're nice as always.

I thought I did you a favour by making the story clear so that you could read it in one go instead of having to read the non-story posts as well.

I find i rather annoying that people think it's necessary to tell everything they think about you and what you post. If you find it dull or out of place, why don't you just leave the thread be and it will dissapear from them board after a short while.

If my posts were over the limit the webmaster would have deleted them straight away.

Re: The story of a troll 2 by kristinekm on 3 July 2005 3:23pm

I would not dream of taking all the honour of this amazing story so to be abolutely fair, read this - I'm begging you!

The main idea came from Wild in Africa then Harvey123 began the story and the following are the contributors in order of appearance (kill me if I forgot somebody):beccles, kristinekm, Wild in Africa, bsh1878(now bruey), Ahren and missfrog.

so there...

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