In the modern world, the internet is king. Whether a user wants up to date news on the latest games, movies and music, to browse through the unceasing eternity of pornography or just put their opinion forward as forcefully as possible on one of the multitude of forums, the internet quite literally has it all. Since it's invention, it has been both critically acclaimed and also mercilessly insulted for the amount of options available. Unfortunately the internet has also opened up a whole world of different methods for the sort of people that do not get invited to dinner parties, but thankfully, the police, who naturally get invited to quite a lot of dinner parties, are on the case.
On the internet, it doesn't matter who you are outside of it. Since nobody can see your face you don't have to smile, you don't have to laugh and you certainly never have to go to the bathroom. A user can create their own life, and if that happens to result in them being an omnipresent crime-fighter with the ability to see through walls at young women undressing then so be it. Nobody ever said it had to be believable after all. The opportunity to re-invent yourself is one that has snared even the greatest minds somewhere along the way.
One of the most popular and effective ways in which an internet user may re-invent themselves is to discuss different topics over an online forum. In places such as these internet dynamics become most obvious. On one side of the spectrum you have the veteran users. Having been around for a long time, they have developed the much sought after ability of knowing stuff, which, amongst veterans, is the accepted currency. Due to this, veterans do not have to have actually been around for too long, as long as they can afford their place using their knowledge.
Then, somewhere in the middle of the spectrum you have the curious user. These users, often referred to as 'newbs', are there for a reason. They have something that they don't know and they're after some much sought after knowledge from a veteran. This gives the veteran the chance to show off their outstanding knowledge, whilst also helping out the curious user who just has a question to ask. Given time, curious users can easily develop into veterans once they have absorbed enough information to advance to the higher position.
Finally, on the far end of the spectrum, you have the rebels', often also referred to as noobs'. These are the users who have decided not to seek the currency of knowledge, deciding instead to rebel' against the veteran users. Often this is done by showing a great lack of respect to the veterans. These users wish to be respected, well-known and considered quite hilarious by the people around them. However, not one of them is actually unique enough to achieve this, as these people tend to devolve into what is known as meme-culture', endlessly sprouting the same thing in the attempt to be funny. This practise is often referred to as stroking their e-penis'. One of these people was named Hugh Gee.
Hugh frequented the internet forum known as Ultimate-Guitar.com, particularly the area known as The Pit'. It was an off-topic area, where knowledge of guitars was neither required nor desired. Instead, the only knowledge that was actually needed was the knowledge of what was considered funny there and what was not considered funny there. In this, Hugh was practically a master. His quoted memes were fresh, his knowledge of current affairs, though in actuality laughable, was considered top notch and his ability to flame people was legendary. Other users would laugh at their screens and post owned' relentlessly after the grand majority of Hugh's posts, even if all he had said was you're a douche.' His profile was constantly full of comments saying lol', wut' and lolwut' because, as the grand majority of the website could attest, he was a funny guy.
Unfortunately for Hugh Gee, the reality was not so accurate.
He wasn't a fan of French. It wasn't the class that he hated - it was the language. Why would any teacher, school or lesson be dedicated to trying to teach him something he would never use in a million years? He thought it was demented, retarded, ridiculous and meaningless. At the front of the classroom, stood the elderly French-Canadian woman who was trying to teach them something. There were letters up on the interactive whiteboard, but they were random. None of them made any sense to Hugh and he had no interest in changing that. He had never met anybody who spoke French or wanted to speak French and he really didn't want to.
Hugh had taken his usual seat at the back of his class, where he hoped to pass the lesson completely unnoticed. His friends were gathered around him, all with their ties loose, their shirts not tucked and their blazers unworn. Hugh and his two friends were the nerdy, ignored and unwanted group. Mostly, they were happy with that, though occasionally that would change. Outcasts were not the sort to attract attention, so they sat at the back and remained completely oblivious to everything that was happening around them. With the teacher up front talking about something or other, the 'Geeky Gang' gathered away from them all and shared stories.
"So are you guys going to the party tonight?" Jimmy was asking them all. Jimmy was tall, slim and, unfortunately, ginger. The colour of his hair was very much the bane of his existence amongst the thousand strong count of students in this school. Even children years younger had been known to mock him for it, thinking that they were tough enough to get away with it. Of course, for the majority, they were. "I know we didn't do great at the last one but I reckon we can try it again. They can't kick us out every time, can they?"
"Don't be stupid," answered George quickly. George was unfortunate for another reason. He was wide to the point of clinically obese, and so short that there were few shorter students at all. He had fine, brown hair and his belly would show while his shirt strained to accommodate him. He was the last member of Hugh's trio. "We got thrown out last time, remember?" He continued. He had a whiney voice without question and it annoyed Hugh every now and then, but since they were friends it was mostly unmentioned. "Ric Jones found us sneaking in and threw us out. You went over the fence, 'member?"
"Yeah, but that won't happen every time, will it?" returned ginger Jimmy. Hugh laughed to himself under his breath. "It's somebody else's party so we can do whatever the hell we want. If we can get in then everybody will think that somebody let us in, so we'll be fine. We can't keep missing these things, it's embarrassing. I mean come on, what would you rather be doing on a Friday night out? Hugh, what do you do on a Friday night?"
Finding himself addressed, Hugh brought his attention away from Monica's Rush's short skirt across the room and brought it back to his friends. "I go on UG, don't I?" he answered slowly. He was rewarded with a laugh from his two closest friends.
"That's all you do, isn't it?" asked Jimmy through his laughter. "You sit at home on your computer and look at guitars. You can't even play one."
Confused, Hugh frowned at his friend. "I don't talk about guitars," he said. "Why would I go on UG to talk about guitars? Just because all those other idiots go and talk about Fenders and Sqealers doesn't mean anybody actually cares. Most people just go into the Pit. That's the place people care about. I'm special right now though. They've given me access to a really funny forum where all the banned people are whining about being banned. It's really funny because they're all so stupid."
"So you got banned then, didn't you?" responded Jimmy. "You laugh at all these people and call them all sorts of names, but it's all 'cause you're banned. I bet you were the worst beggar of all."
"Yeah, man," continued George. "You love that place, you'd be really peeved if you got banned, especially with all those mods you keep whining about."
Annoyed to be the butt of their joke, Hugh tried to think of an intelligent rebuttal, or just a rebuttal, but he couldn't come up with anything. "Well they're all wrong," he finally settled with. "None of them do their jobs. If I want to call somebody a faggot, I should be able to without being told off. It's freedom of speech, isn't it? I should be able to say whatever I want to whoever I want. Besides, it's only the internet. It's not like anybody cares. They're all power hungry retards."
"Bitter, are we?" asked Jimmy with a smirk. "You hate anyone that pisses you off, but it's not like you can do anything about it is it? You remember when you got hung from the ceiling in English and even Mr. Phillips didn't care? He was just glad somebody finally shut you up."
"Hey, I got him back for that," Hugh shot back at him.
Jimmy and George both glared at him for this response. The unanswered question was beyond obvious, but Hugh was completely unable to come up with an answer, so he kept quiet.
"How are we going to try and get in to this party, then?" George asked Jimmy, turning his attention away from Hugh.
"Well obviously we'll try walking straight in the front door first," Jimmy answered. This was the typical plan. They would walk straight up to the door, knock and wait until somebody came to the door to make them go away. Jimmy, the talkative one of the group, would then attempt to talk his way in, bringing Hugh and George with him. He was actually quite an accomplished liar and improviser, but he had never managed to get them through the door yet. Afterwards the real plotting would begin. Their record was rather abysmal thus far, having managed to find their way into a grand total of zero parties out of every hosted party thus far this year.
"And when they tell us to go away? What do we do then?" replied George.
"We say 'lol, wut' and just don't go away," Hugh supplied with a wide grin. Neither of his friends laughed. This was quite a common occurrence.
Escaping his home had been difficult. His room was a tip, the kitchen counter was piled with plates, cups and forks and the living room had not been cleaned. These were, of course, Hugh's chores, but he had been choosing to ignore them since he was old enough to fight back. Being grounded was his typical state because, choosing not to bother with cleaning up even after being grounded, nothing ever changed. As long as Hugh had access to the family computer whenever he wanted to, he would probably remain grounded forever.
Now, walking quickly down the street to meet his friends, he recalled just how many times he had slipped out of his window, leaving his work undone. It was nothing new, in fact, even his mother had likely expected it. With all of the times that he had ignored her, he strongly suspected that he had completely crushed his mother's spirit. She would pile on the chores, and, for each one, he would simply say: "K, koo," and wander back to his favourite websites.
Jimmy and George were waiting for him at the corner between his street and the next. George had not changed, leaving on his school shirt, but removing the tie. Changing would have been a completely wasted effort. The sleeves were caught in several places, dragging the cuffs up his forearms, and his rounded belly had trapped the rest of the material, leaving a good chunk of his mid-section exposed. Jimmy had put on a faded brown t-shirt and jeans, but, despite how tall he was, his natural slouch made him look comfortable, but very much unimportant. Hugh's own attire, a grey jumper and black jeans, had not been chosen with care. He wasn't interested in drawing too much attention to himself, he just wanted to get in for once. They exchanged pleasantries, mocked each other for their choice of clothing, then began walking.
Unfortunately, as they soon found out, they were wasting their time. The party, being held by the oldest students in their school, was taking place at somebody's house up in the fancier parts of town. It was a large and undoubtedly very expensive place, surrounded by hedges and a small fence. Knocking on the door had always proven to be something of a pointless attempt to get in, so the three of them aimed for the back door. This was a something that Hugh was sure to make fun of as much as he could. The back gate was not locked. It swung open easily, leading into a large garden, containing a pool at the centre, surrounded by extremely organised paving stones. There was a desk near the porch on which there was a collection of paper cups and alcohol bottles. People were gathered, most of whom were from the highest class. The girls were wearing dresses. That was all that any of them cared about.
Looking over the scene of casual drinking, chatting and easy-going life, the three of them, labelled the 'geeky gang' by the very people that they were looking at, paused to think things over before they went in too far.
"Right," began George, closing the back gate again so that they wouldn't be seen. "Who do we want to avoid so that we don't get kicked out?"
"Richard Meyers," Hugh offered. He could easily recall the last time that he had run into Richard Meyers. Meyers was on the football team and, as such, he loved throwing people back and forth. He was also a damned good aim, capable of throwing Hugh face first into the first patch of mud, puddle or gutter that became available.
"Yeah, I really don't want to see him at any point," Jimmy added. "Remember when he caught you trying to look down Monica's top? What happened there again?"
"I was unconscious for something like three hours," answered Hugh readily. It was one of Jimmy's favourite stories. Monica Rush was a dangerous girl to go near, but he was yet to meet anybody who could resist the charms that were her breasts. "He hasn't seen me in a little while, and I'd really like to keep my face out of his, you know?"
"Then stop walking up behind Monica and shouting stuff like 'rape' and 'surprise buttsecks' then," Jimmy responded. "It's really not that hard to work out man."
George laughed happily. "I remember when you did that. Even I was ashamed to know you for that. Did you really think that you wouldn't get in trouble for that?"
"Well she might have liked it," explained Hugh. "All of the cool people browse the Pit. She's cool, isn't she?"
"No, she's hot, there's a difference," pointed out Jimmy. "Besides, we don't go in your Pit. Does that make us uncool?"
"Yeah, you people suck," mocked Hugh.
"Hey, guys, we're gonna get thrown out before we even get in if we don't work out who we're avoiding," exclaimed George. "Now, Richard Meyers, Jenny Bross and Phil Stein, right?"
"The usual three do-gooders," added Jimmy. "They've ruined every party we've ever gone to in one way or another. It wouldn't be so bad if Jenny was hot, but she's so damned ugly it's unreal. How can anybody possibly look so bad all of the time?"
"Years of doing it, man," Hugh answered. "Now come on, we'll get in there, get some drinks and then get in the house. Things will be so packed in there that we can probably sneak around and avoid them all just if we stick together. Did you see any of them in the garden when we looked?"
"I think I saw Phil, but he was over in a corner with his back to us," said George. "If Jenny was out there she'd be wearing a bikini, wouldn't she? Honestly, I hate it when fat people don't realise that they're fat and you can see way more than you want to."
For the sake of getting in quickly, neither Jimmy nor Hugh bothered to point out the irony in George's little speech. Instead, Jimmy pushed open the gate, had a quick look inside and started to walk with what he likely thought was a casual pace.
Thus far, the plan had been going well. They had avoided everybody that they needed to avoid, even to the point that Jimmy and George had had to drag Hugh away from Monica Rush. She was wearing a short, white dress that had left every man nearby sporting a puddle of drool around him. There had been one close encounter between George and Richard Meyers, but they managed to escape without being noticed.
As the night wore on, with each of them becoming progressively more and more drunk, Hugh wandered off from the group and up the stairs. There, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, he caught the eye of a woman that he recognised as being a year above him. She was wearing tight jeans, had long, black hair, and was marching angrily out of one of the larger bedrooms, which had loud music coming out of it. She gave him a glare as she went by him, but he had no plan to let her just wander by.
"What are you running from?" he asked her.
She slowed, but did not stop. "Vile, chauvinistic bastards like you," she responded viciously.
He laughed at her anger, making sure that she could tell that he was laughing at her instead of with her. She paused in her stride, glaring at him. "Annoyed that they're fapping over you?" he asked, still smirking and laughing. "Or is it that they said 'tits or GTFO' and you didn't want to show them your tits?"
Annoyance clear in every part of her body, from her eyes to her balled fists, she answered him. "No, it's my boyfriend. Or should I say my ex boyfriend. He's upset because I can play guitar better than he can. He's been in there showing off to all of his friends that he can play Greenday, and I said they're alright but I prefer bands like Muse. I played some and I was better than him, so he started shouting at me."
She made to storm off, but Hugh followed her quickly down the corridor. "I like Muse," he said, wanting to catch up quickly, but also wanting to pause and examine the area below her waist. Not slowing down, she continued to march towards the stairs. "I think Matt Bellamy's classical training really shows in some of his longer tracks, especially when he's live. At least that's what people say on Ultimate-Guitar."
To his surprise, this made her slow her pace. She turned to him, looking him over shrewdly. "You go on UG?" She said slowly. Suddenly, Hugh began to feel incredibly lucky. Something had definitely worked out for him in the last exchange, as he actually wasn't a big fan of Muse, but the amount of people who had their threads on them in the Pit closed had taught him enough to fake it completely.
"Yeah," Hugh answered. "I'm called Hugh, and I went off with the username 'Hugh Gee.' I wander around. I like music and guitars, so it's a good place for me."
"And if I wanted to play guitar would you laugh at me and say that girls can't do that?" she asked of him.
For a moment, Hugh was determined to give the honest answer, but he strongly suspected that she would disagree with that. He then considered pointing out that he didn't actually play guitar, nor was he ever likely to bother trying. He was a fan of guitars as far as the thread in the Pit which contained pictures of guitars in the hands or crotches of particularly compelling women. Again, he decided against telling her this. He then wandered through a selection of different Pit memes that he could use, but that also didn't end well in his mind. Finally, he answered: "no."
Seemingly, that was what she wanted to hear. "I've heard about you, Hugh," she said, smiling for the first time since they had run into each other. "My name's Sammy. I know UG. I go on to get tabs and things. My boyfriend doesn't. He hates it. He keeps saying that I'm wasting my time with tabs and theory when I should just work it out for myself. He thinks theory is stupid, can you believe that?"
This shocked Hugh. Everybody knew that theory was completely useless. If Hendrix didn't know theory then nobody should bother with it. Still, this was another thing that he didn't feel it would be very intelligent to say. "Well then," he said carefully, "he's stupid for thinking that. And he's stupid for pissing you off."
Sammy rewarded him with another smile, while at the same time, her cheeks began to redden. It was at this point that Hugh realised how drunk she was. He thought carefully about his next move, considering the best way to politely end up doing the most arousing things possible with her and then telling the Pit all about it. "Here, you should drink this," he said eventually, offering her his near full cup of beer. This was the height of romance from Hugh. It was his beer, he was typically very possessive. Sammy looked him over again, then took the cup and took a drink. Afterwards, she kept hold of the cup. Hugh was almost tempted to demand it back, but the possibility of making a good impression won him over.
"Do you want to hear me play?" asked Sammy, sending him a look under batting eyelids. Hugh considered it, wondering what it would be worth to sit and listen to a girl playing Muse songs when he could in fact just go home and listen to Muse. Or not, as he would likely prefer. The concept crossed his mind that he could get her very drunk, have her take her clothes off, take pictures on his phone and join in on the girls and guitars thread.
This idea made his decision for him. "Yes," he said simply, worried what might happen if he said more. "Where is there a guitar?"
"I know these people well," Sammy answered. "There are a few around. Here, we'll go in his little brother's room."
She led him confidently past the room that she had vacated, past the bathroom and to a small room near the back of the house. It was more quiet in this part. They went inside together. The room was cluttered, messy and small, but there was a black guitar in the corner, a double bed and an en-suite bathroom on the back. The size of the house alone showed money, but the contents were even worse. It was extravagant.
He closed the door behind them, pushing the catch to so that it was locked. He didn't let her see or hear him doing this. As she took up the guitar and sat on the bed, he took his own seat in a chair in the corner of the room, near the television. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the guitar leant on her jeans and against her tank top. It strained the material, making her breasts even more alluring to Hugh. He was quite a happy man.
When she began to play, he didn't listen for as much as a moment. His eyes were on her lips, moving slowly to form the words of the songs, though she didn't sing. She played with her fingers, striking the strings quickly and with what might well have been skill, but Hugh wouldn't have noticed if it was. She moved through several songs, glancing up at his smiling face every now and then as her hair began to fall forward, across her face and on to the instrument. She continued, moving through different pieces, with him sitting there, imagining having sex with her instead of actually paying any attention to her.
It came as a surprise to him when she stopped playing to pat the bed beside her invitingly and say: "come and sit here."
He didn't think about it, though he didn't want to seem too eager. However, he found himself unable to say no. He moved over to the bed, slipping beneath the fretboard of the guitar.
"What did you think, then?" Sammy asked, slurring slightly. She leant down to take up the cup of beer from the floor and take another sip. He waited for her to finish before he answered, letting her drink as much as she wanted and become ever so slightly more intoxicated. It greatly helped his plan to have her drink as much as possible.
"I liked it," Hugh replied, putting his hand on hers under the guise of holding the instrument with her. "You're quite good," he continued. "I recognised everything that you were playing, so you must be good, right?"
Another blush came to her cheeks. Not moving her hand, she leaned back a little, her body resting against Hugh's. Excitement wandered through his body, even more so when she finally did move her hand to his thigh.
"My boyfriend does this all the time," Sammy told him, looking directly into his eyes. "He's good sometimes, but he can be an arse. I get back at him though, my way. You should take your pants off."
Her suddenly brazen attitude would have caught him off guard if not for the fact that something else had come into his mind. It was something that he should not say, under any circumstances, so he bit his lip to control himself. Seeing this, her eyes lit up, likely thinking that he was feeling aroused. In actuality, he was not. His Pit-mental mind had very much ruined the moment.
She moved her hands further up, looking for something that she was having great difficulty finding. He began to laugh to himself, under his breath. It put her off her stride. Looking up at him, Sammy stopped moving her hand and narrowed her eyes.
"Why are you laughing?" She asked him, almost motionless now.
"You shouldn't do that," said Hugh, still sniggering to himself.
"Why not? Going to tell Ultimate-Guitar all about it are you? I'm okay with that," Sammy inquired sharply and quickly.
The reminder that she was an Ultimate-Guitar fan seemed much like her giving him permission, so, with a deep breath, he said loudly: "because I cum blood."
He then started laughing, loudly and uncontrollably, to himself. He rolled around on the bed, holding his stomach and thinking hard on exactly how to phrase his thread. Sammy slapped him, shouted at him, hit him with the guitar, but that only made it much worse. The series of events that followed were something of a blur for Hugh. He only knew that his laughing and Sammy's screaming brought her boyfriend, Richard Meyers, to the door. Finding it locked, he smashed through it, and there encountered Hugh Gee.
Some time later, laying on the pavement outside of the house, Jimmy and George found Hugh covered in mud and water. Poking him, they woke him from the strange and violent dreams that he was having. Then, once again, Hugh recalled his joke and began to laugh.
"I'm so funny," Hugh managed to mumble, though his face was against the concrete.
"No, you're not," responded Jimmy. "You're not funny at all. We heard all about it. Hell, we heard you shout it and decided that the best idea was to hide. They came looking for us when they found you."
Hugh coughed. His assailant had managed to get a few good hits in on his ribs. "So," he began, "while I was being beaten up, you guys hid in the house?"
"What, you expected us to come and fight your battles for you?" Jimmy mocked. "No, we did what you would have done. Can you get up? The party isn't over, but we both think that this would be the best time to leave, you know, before we end up getting in more trouble. Can you stand?"
"Can I balls," Hugh responded. He coughed a little more and finally opened his eyes. Blurred though he was, he could make out Jimmy looking down on him and George next to him, watching the house to make sure that nobody else was coming.
"Fine," said Jimmy. He knelt down, wrapped his arms around Hugh and lifted him up, taking the weight of his friend onto his shoulders. "Come on George, let's go, I've got him."
They travelled back home like that. George said very little, instead he kept looking back to check that they weren't being followed. Jimmy carried Hugh along, bouncing him back and forth with each exaggerated step. Tormenting Hugh was certainly a lot of fun, especially considering the fact that he insisted on continuing to laugh away to himself. The only thing that Hugh said on the way was simply: "I'm going to tell everybody in the Pit all about this. I cum blood, ha ha."
So that's it ladies and gentlemen, the end of chapter one. Depending on the reception I may be writing the next one, or, if somebody else can actually be drafted in, I may not. In the mean time, here's something for you to be thinking about.
If you'd like to be involved in the official UG story, maybe you'd like to design a character for me. If you think you can make somebody who would fit nicely into the story, kindly stick your idea down in a comment and they just might end up being featured.
Until next time, play dirty children.