It was a cold, summer day in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Patrick S Tomlinson, a fairly well known local writer and open mic comedian was opening his tightly shut eyes. Patrick had a long night of drinking at his local “watering hole”, Hooligans. He’s no longer 25 so he can’t close bars anymore, but he came damn close. As Patrick arises, he looks at his overpriced watch.
“10:30” he thinks to himself. Just enough time to drink a Corona, and gather his gear. Patrick slams a lukewarm corona from the case next to the fridge, and starts gathering the important things in his life. His laptop and charger, his phone, and his keys. He walks outside his side of the duplex, and hops onto his Triumph motorcycle. He rides to a moment that will change his life forever.
As he arrives at Hooligans, he notices a strange car next to his spot. Patrick is usually the first one there. 11:05 AM sharp. It’s the only way he can get in the head space to write his liTeraTure. He walks through the door and scans the room.
“Why is there somebody next to my spot?” He wonders to himself.
Patrick has an established spot at Hooligan’s. He believes it’s because everyone knows and respects him. In reality it’s because it stinks and no one wants to speak with him. He walks over to his reserved seat, and sits down.
“Hey, Patrick. How’re you?” The man sitting at the bar asks. He’s wearing a long, beige trench coat, and a higdon hat.
“I’m fine. How are you? And why do you know my name?” Patrick is hiding his fear of direct confrontation. Confrontation from a group, who has been stalking him for unknown reasons, for years.
“I’ve been better. I know who you are, because you and I have spoken before.” The mystery man said.
Patrick immediately thinks of all the cyber terrorists that have been harassing him. He reacts with a calm, but strong tone.
“Oh sweet summer child. The FBI will be dealing with you soon.”
“Patrick, I’m not here to harm you here. I’m here to help you.” The mysterious man says.
“But, child, I don’t need your help. I’ve already established who you are.” Patrick responds, knowing full well what he says isn’t true.
“Then you know I’m Somerville Dan. So I won’t waste your time. I’m here to strike a deal.” Dan says, in an odd voice. It’s as if he thinks he’s mocking someone, but the voice doesn’t pertain to anything.
“I don’t read your circle jerk forum, child. I don’t need a deal from a felonious cyberstalker, little one.” Patrick is clearly intimidated by the fact someone has actually approached him.
“I’m not here to hurt, Patrick. I’m here to help. You and I have something in common. We’ve both been harmed by the forums.” Dan says, looking slightly retarded, just not enough to outright claim it.
“We have nothing in common, baby child. You are a nazi, and a white supremacist.” Rick is now pretending to be strong and confident, sitting next to the Down syndrome manlet.
“Well, none of that is true. My wife is Brazilian, and a sex worker. Moving on, I have the doxxes of people you want. I know you know ‘Robert Mewler’, and ‘Covid Cumia’. What about ‘Cuntfucker’? How about ‘Imager’? I have them all. Even the anti Biden, ‘Stu Lightning’.” Said Dan.
“I’m listening, little one. Time is running out.” Patrick is savoring this potential new lawsuit.
“I have their dossiers, right here in my briefcase. All I’m asking for is a 17 part podcast where I host, and you comment. All you have to do is stay silent, while I repeat what was just established. Trust me. I took podcasting 101, I’ve been doing this since-“ Dan thinks this is close to something he has heard before. He remembers and finishes. “I was in college.”
Patrick looks at the disheveled Dan, sizing him up. Learning as little as he can by his body language.
“Even if I were to believe you, Dan child. Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m at risk now too. I couldn’t handle 1 hour of being doxxed. I can’t handle another 4 years of this.” Dan says, realizing there’s a chance he may get through.
“Oh sweet summer child. You couldn’t live a day in my life.” Patrick condescendingly says.
“I realize that Patrick. That’s why I’m here. I can no longer condone what they do. They got…” Dan starts to think of something he thinks he remembers. “Completely off base of how we started.”
Patrick is slowly becoming more open to this new idea. He sees a weak man in front of him. He asks one last question:
“How did you get here? Why help me after all this time, sweet baby infant child?”
“Well it’s a long trip here, so I had a few-“ Dan does another pause. He knows there should be a term for this, but he improvs: “Pavement pops. Seeing them make fun of my wife on the way there, Gay Faggot. did an entire roast of me. It all helped me make this decision, and it’s all here Patrick. Everything. All the info you need. All you have to do is let me host the 17 part podcast, and we’ll expose the entire ring.”
“Don’t believe you, child. You are being investigated by the FBI. The best you can do is wait for the knock.” Rick smiles as he says that. His fish lips scaring off the longest term bartender Hooligans has had. A total of two weeks.
“Well that’s fine Patrick. If I were you, I’d suggest telling the FBI to leave-“ Dan recalls there might be a reference, then just pretends he knows what he’s saying “me to my own devices. I have the capstone. I have SpaceEdges doxx. This will all be yours. You can make all the money you deserve. You can have your own empire. Just like mine. Built off dog shit.”
Patrick finally gives into his proposition.
“Ok, child. Leave the suitcase where you sit. I’ll meet you outside. You leave first. I’ll be out in 5 minutes”
Dan gets up and leaves, and waits outside his car. Wondering if he’s kicking up pat hills.
Patrick drinks his two Miller Lites, gets up, and puts on his coat. He grabs the suitcase, and walks outside. Outside to a new tomorrow. As he walks out with the briefcase, he sees Dan, taking off his coat. Waving, and turning it inside out. Revealing a Howard Stern logo embroidered on the inside.
“10:30” he thinks to himself. Just enough time to drink a Corona, and gather his gear. Patrick slams a lukewarm corona from the case next to the fridge, and starts gathering the important things in his life. His laptop and charger, his phone, and his keys. He walks outside his side of the duplex, and hops onto his Triumph motorcycle. He rides to a moment that will change his life forever.
As he arrives at Hooligans, he notices a strange car next to his spot. Patrick is usually the first one there. 11:05 AM sharp. It’s the only way he can get in the head space to write his liTeraTure. He walks through the door and scans the room.
“Why is there somebody next to my spot?” He wonders to himself.
Patrick has an established spot at Hooligan’s. He believes it’s because everyone knows and respects him. In reality it’s because it stinks and no one wants to speak with him. He walks over to his reserved seat, and sits down.
“Hey, Patrick. How’re you?” The man sitting at the bar asks. He’s wearing a long, beige trench coat, and a higdon hat.
“I’m fine. How are you? And why do you know my name?” Patrick is hiding his fear of direct confrontation. Confrontation from a group, who has been stalking him for unknown reasons, for years.
“I’ve been better. I know who you are, because you and I have spoken before.” The mystery man said.
Patrick immediately thinks of all the cyber terrorists that have been harassing him. He reacts with a calm, but strong tone.
“Oh sweet summer child. The FBI will be dealing with you soon.”
“Patrick, I’m not here to harm you here. I’m here to help you.” The mysterious man says.
“But, child, I don’t need your help. I’ve already established who you are.” Patrick responds, knowing full well what he says isn’t true.
“Then you know I’m Somerville Dan. So I won’t waste your time. I’m here to strike a deal.” Dan says, in an odd voice. It’s as if he thinks he’s mocking someone, but the voice doesn’t pertain to anything.
“I don’t read your circle jerk forum, child. I don’t need a deal from a felonious cyberstalker, little one.” Patrick is clearly intimidated by the fact someone has actually approached him.
“I’m not here to hurt, Patrick. I’m here to help. You and I have something in common. We’ve both been harmed by the forums.” Dan says, looking slightly retarded, just not enough to outright claim it.
“We have nothing in common, baby child. You are a nazi, and a white supremacist.” Rick is now pretending to be strong and confident, sitting next to the Down syndrome manlet.
“Well, none of that is true. My wife is Brazilian, and a sex worker. Moving on, I have the doxxes of people you want. I know you know ‘Robert Mewler’, and ‘Covid Cumia’. What about ‘Cuntfucker’? How about ‘Imager’? I have them all. Even the anti Biden, ‘Stu Lightning’.” Said Dan.
“I’m listening, little one. Time is running out.” Patrick is savoring this potential new lawsuit.
“I have their dossiers, right here in my briefcase. All I’m asking for is a 17 part podcast where I host, and you comment. All you have to do is stay silent, while I repeat what was just established. Trust me. I took podcasting 101, I’ve been doing this since-“ Dan thinks this is close to something he has heard before. He remembers and finishes. “I was in college.”
Patrick looks at the disheveled Dan, sizing him up. Learning as little as he can by his body language.
“Even if I were to believe you, Dan child. Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m at risk now too. I couldn’t handle 1 hour of being doxxed. I can’t handle another 4 years of this.” Dan says, realizing there’s a chance he may get through.
“Oh sweet summer child. You couldn’t live a day in my life.” Patrick condescendingly says.
“I realize that Patrick. That’s why I’m here. I can no longer condone what they do. They got…” Dan starts to think of something he thinks he remembers. “Completely off base of how we started.”
Patrick is slowly becoming more open to this new idea. He sees a weak man in front of him. He asks one last question:
“How did you get here? Why help me after all this time, sweet baby infant child?”
“Well it’s a long trip here, so I had a few-“ Dan does another pause. He knows there should be a term for this, but he improvs: “Pavement pops. Seeing them make fun of my wife on the way there, Gay Faggot. did an entire roast of me. It all helped me make this decision, and it’s all here Patrick. Everything. All the info you need. All you have to do is let me host the 17 part podcast, and we’ll expose the entire ring.”
“Don’t believe you, child. You are being investigated by the FBI. The best you can do is wait for the knock.” Rick smiles as he says that. His fish lips scaring off the longest term bartender Hooligans has had. A total of two weeks.
“Well that’s fine Patrick. If I were you, I’d suggest telling the FBI to leave-“ Dan recalls there might be a reference, then just pretends he knows what he’s saying “me to my own devices. I have the capstone. I have SpaceEdges doxx. This will all be yours. You can make all the money you deserve. You can have your own empire. Just like mine. Built off dog shit.”
Patrick finally gives into his proposition.
“Ok, child. Leave the suitcase where you sit. I’ll meet you outside. You leave first. I’ll be out in 5 minutes”
Dan gets up and leaves, and waits outside his car. Wondering if he’s kicking up pat hills.
Patrick drinks his two Miller Lites, gets up, and puts on his coat. He grabs the suitcase, and walks outside. Outside to a new tomorrow. As he walks out with the briefcase, he sees Dan, taking off his coat. Waving, and turning it inside out. Revealing a Howard Stern logo embroidered on the inside.
