I’m sick of it, OK? Playing by the rules has gotten me nowhere, quick.
P.I. Will Gain 40,000 Subscribers by Friday Evening
I’ve come across a method to increase subscriber count by tens-of-thousands. A method Mr. Rowse would frown upon because he’s a stickler.
It all started, Saturday evening, at a party. I was telling a girl, sitting next to me on a couch, how I’m all the rave in the blogosphere; that I got tons of subscribers; and everyone freaking loves me. After five minutes of giving her the scoop on P.I.’s greatness, she says:
“Umm… Like… a blog? What kind of a loser are you?!”
My face transformed into a throbbing red delicious apple. I stood up and screamed in front of everyone, “If only I had 40,000 more subscribers, everyone would know who I was! If only I had money to pay for those subscribers; I would do anything for that money!”
Thankfully the music was so loud no one noticed my outburst.
I sat back down stroking my chin like an ancient Greek philosopher in deep contemplation.
Then it hit me: a friend once showed me a site where you can pay folk in third world countries low sums of money to do tasks for you on the internet. I’d simply pay 40,000 of them to subscribe to my blog.
Only one problem: At a nickel per person, this equates to 2,000 clams of which I don’t got. I mean, I just spent every last dime on getting TickTockTimer built. Gosh, I’m irresponsible! *sigh*.
As that thought sailed across my mind, I eerily noticed out of the side of my eye a man in the corner smoking a pipe, gazing at me. I could see the glow of his pipe as he puffed away, but only darkness under his hood. It was like his whole trench coat was being occupied by an invisible force.
What the f*** did they put in this punch?!
I turned away, having enough Lord of the Rings bullshit for one night and besides, I was still peeved at the girl who dissed my blog. How could she?! In frustration I took a giant gulp of punch and just sat there as everyone else seemed to have a good time.
I closed my eyes hoping to rest for a little and regain my composure. After a few moments I opened them back up, noticing that the couch didn’t quite feel the same. I slowly turned to my side, seeing the profile of a brown, raggedy, hooded trench coat.
I gotta admit, I was spooked.
Without even turning toward me, he says in a smoky voice, “So… You want to borrow some money for your project?”
I immediately put my cup down realizing I probably had a bit too much. There’s a reason those cups are red; they’re devilish!
I gulped in disbelief.
“Bamboo… do you want the money for the project or not?”
My head was spinning… and the disturbing part is I was strongly considering taking this “person?” up on the offer.
“uhhh… I’m sorry, have we met?”
“I have two thousand dollars that I’ll loan you. Deal is… You have to give me double the sum in six months time.”
“uhhh… and if I don’t?”
He slowly stood up from the couch; I hesitatingly looked to see if there’s a face under his hood, as he slid part of his trench coat back revealing a samurai sword sheathed in his belt.
WHAT THE…?! What kind of a weirdo brings a sword to a party?! Even I wouldn’t do that.
Needless to say, his head was turned away as he did it and I was unable to see if there was a face under his hood or not.
“Yes, Yes, Yes I will take da’ money! Six months ain’t nuttin’ on me, boy! Hell… I’ll have five times that when you come to collect. I can handle my biznass, yo!”
Looking back, that wasn’t me talking. It was the booze.
He handed me a brown bag filled with two grand in 50 dollar bills. I took it with a smile so radiant it was as if my face suddenly became the neon sign for the Bellagio in Vegas.
He immediately stormed out of the party as if rushing to another party, to prey upon another cocky kid just like me to give a loan to.
I got myself in serious shit, that’s for sure.
But really, whose fault is this? It’s certainly ain’t mine. I mean, let’s be real here.
If every one of my subscribers would tell just thirty of their friends about Pun Intended, I’d have 40,000 subscribers over night. And if you don’t have that many friends, you do have cousins, don’t you?
You could have helped me out this way. But you didn’t. Did you?
Now I’m left exploiting the poor and having the threat of beheadment by sword hanging over me.
I hope you’re happy.
I got six months to turn these additional subscribers into profit. Either I do and live to tell the tale. Or… very soon I’ll leave the earth I so love.