A lot of guys don’t understand the meaning of true love. True love involves doing anything for the person you’re in love with, even if they have a boyfriend and he wants to kill you.
That, naturally, involves getting a Facebook account at least 90% of the time. Now in my case, the person who convinced me to get the account, Shari, is just a friend; our relationship is “true love” in the same way that my dog is a coyote. True, my dog Sissy is pretty like a coyote, and they both have fur, but one is capable of eating large quadripeds while the other is primarily capable of eating bones made of compressed carbon matter.
Aside from quibbling details, I got a Facebook account. This is primarily because I hate Myspace, an equivalent “social network” service notable for having Tila “that ugly Asian bitch” Tequila as one of its most famous members. I also glossed over Something Awful, because they would permaban me after one look at my wolf drawings. I know I have no proof of this, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Lowtax would look at poor Lupe and vomit uncontrollably.
The first thing I notice on Facebook is this:
Naturally, being a typical depressive 18-year-old male with no romantic interests whatsoever, the notion of “Vampire love” is one which I take with a grain of salt, because I know deep down inside that vampires can never love me. I am a werewolf deep down inside, as far as my allergy medication goes anyway, and so we would be at a crossroads, especially whenever she or he or whatever a vampire is wants to turn into a bat. Sure, bats create less pollution when they go to the bathroom, but think of the consequences! I’m sure you can think of some while I finish writing my next paragraph.
Nevertheless, it tells me to click, and so I click. It tells me to install some kind of “application” to my account, and so, in the hopes of finding some kind of “vampire love”, I install it. Next, I get:
I realize that I have been duped into some kind of horrible vampire-making cartel. Imagine, an entire company, making plug-ins for a social networking site, all with the sole intention of creating undead blood-sucking creatures! The idea makes me vibrate violently as we speak for no reason in particular.
I try my best to understand what kind of terrifying creature I have become. A vampire? Would that make me a vampire werewolf whenever I take my Benadryl? What does this mean for my future? How do I eat? I mean, a werewolf eats people. A vampire sucks their blood. What do I do, kind of rip apart the person and then suck the blood out of their meatiness? And then eat the meatiness after I’ve sucked the blood out of it? The very idea is enough to boggle the mind.
Facebook tells me that I am a “rockstar vampire”, which I’m guessing is some kind of code word for my mission. It has a little status counter telling me how many points I have gotten and how many “chumps” I have “infected”, which is at zero and will probably remain so for a very long time. I have gotten many infections in my life, and I figure this will just be similar to them, only with more blood-sucking. And guessing from my title, more rock music. As similar as this sounds to Queen of the Damned, a classic movie starring such greats of the silver screen as Aaliyah (notable for her name sounding like the noise I make when I have the stomach flu), I have decided not to commit suicide.