First post

10 Sep 2008

It was a mistake to use a picture of me, but I was lazy. I couldn't think of anything clever, so I just took a picture of my ugly mug, a negative of it, flipped it left to right and upside down, and stuck that to my avatar.

Then I saw that the blog had a new post: a not exactly hilarious but still mildly amusing fail.

And no comments.

For a while --- two, maybe three seconds --- I fought against myself. Then I clattered "FIRST POST!" and hit submit.

There it was, then. My very first "first post" comment. Sure, people hated them, I thought, but wasn't it an entirely harmless way to show you were quick, you were alert, you were even a bit l33t, if you know what I mean?

I laughed a bit, then went to sleep.

Then next day I came back from the university and found a fire burning at my doorstep. I stomped, then cursed. Who knew the old burning paper bag with feces inside trick still saw action?

I thought it was just a random practical joke --- the joker probably had thought there was someone inside, even if the doorbell got no response.

I checked the post --- 69 comments, and mine the first. Curiously enough, no-one had said "first post on first post!" or "seventh posts rotfl!!!" or something similar: all the other posts, except one, were a calm, rational discussion of the fail itself.

The exception was comment #23:

@ #1 : You no good third floor scum. You're neither funny nor clever.

I laughed a bit; then I saw a new fail-post, entirely without comments at all. Within seconds, I was a double first-poster and felt like a King of teh Intertubes.

Then I thought, with increasing worry, on the words "third floor". I even googled a bit. It wasn't an insult I could find anywhere. It felt seriously uncool to be insulted without knowing the insult.

Then, with a shudder, I considered the fact that I happened to live in a third-floor apartment; but there was no way anyone on the blog could know that, right? From a single comment? From a new commenter? No way.

Not unless this number 23, this "revengel666", knew me. But how could he ---

And then I remembered the picture.

There it sneered, next to my comment: a flipped upside-down negative that still looked exactly like me, distinctive hairdo and all.

I freaked out for a while, thinking of revengel and of a flaming bag of dogshit. (Studentshit?)

Then there was a clatter from the mail slot. After a minute or two, I crawled from under the computer desk and went to look.

There was a severed human hand, covered with blood, on my doorstep.

A bit of whimpering and hyperventilation followed. The hand proved to be plastic, from a mannequin no doubt, and the blood...

Uh, the blood seemed genuine.

The computer chirped; I nearly browned my pants.

I had mail.

Mail at the throwaway address I'd given in registering to comment at the blog.

Mail from another throwaway address: revengel_discard666 at some-mail-or-the-other.

Subject: First post

Text: Hello. First posting is not funny. Do you know where you bicycle is?

I ran out and down. My bicycle was gone, security chain and all.

Then there was a scream from far up: I looked, blanched and fell down to my hindparts. The shadowy form at the roof, six stories up, disappeared while I watched my bicycle plummet down and noisily crunch to a pile of twisted metal against the pavement a few meters from me.

I laughed then. It wasn't an exactly happy laugh, but I guess that is clear without saying.

When I finally got up and staggered back to the third floor, I found a new email from the same sender.

Subject: First post, last warning

Text: Hello again. As you can see, first posting is not only unfunny, but also hazardous to your health and possessions. Don't do it again. We are a legion, we are very good in tracking people, and we are very easily irritated.

I hope I have made myself sufficiently clear.

Sincerely, RevEngel 666.

PS. Have a nice day.

I didn't.

* * *

A therapeutic story, made necessary by a look at Failblog comments. I leave the horror of writing a story about I Can Has Cheezburger? commenters to others.