MySpace: The Pandemic
by Paul Frank
boy is sitting in school. It is barely fall, but yet he is wearing a scarf.
He is very anxious and can barely sit in his desk. To a casual bystander,
it might appear that he has to pee really bad. The bell rings and the
boy flies out of his desk, running into people and their belongings on
the way out of the classroom. He runs furiously through the halls, running
CHECK MY MYSPACE! GOTTA CHECK MY MYSPACE! GET OUT OF MY WAY!" He
repeats this over and over.
He slams open
the front doors of the school and runs to his car. He 'floors it' out
of the parking lot, possibly cutting off people, maybe not since he would
probably be one of the first people out, since he has to check his MySpace.
He speeds and
drives dangerously home. He puts the car in park in his driveway and gets
out of his car, leaving the door open. He runs inside his house. He gets
to his computer.
oh God why didn't I leave it on this morning? Fuck!" He waits very
impatiently as his computer starts up. He clicks on his internet browser's
icon. His home page is MySpace. He types in his password, since his e-mail
address is saved in there. "Don't you guys recognize me by now?!?",
he screams at the MySpace website on his computer monitor.
loads up, he quickly scrolls down to see if there are any new friend requests,
comments, messages, etc. He sees that he has none. "Fuck! You think
somebody would've done something on my MySpace since I checked this morning!
Goddamnit, the rest of the school day is gonna suck!" He goes back
to school, after eating a lunch consisting of ice cream.
is inside his house. His door slams open, and as soon as it opens, you
hear him yelling. "There better be fucking commentz on my pikz! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhcccc
(He is once
again disappointed. Furious that he's not popular enough, he clicks "Add
to Friends" on several people's profiles, mostly from the "Cool
New People", "Featured Profile", "MySpace Music",
and "MySpace Specials" sections from the front page. He goes
back to his profile and keeps refreshing to see if anything comes up.)
door in his house opens. It is his mom.)
tries to click out of all of the MySpace windows. His mom is walking fast
towards his room. A dramatic splitscreen ensues. Will emo fag click out
of all the windows before his mommy gets to his room?)
(His mom pops
her head in the window just as the son clicks out of the last window.)
the fuck are you doing?!? Don't think that I didn't see that! You're on
MySpace, aren't you?"
No, come on, I quit that shit, man, I'm clean, I'm done with that stuff..."
lying...I can tell. Look at me. Let me see your eyes. You're on MySpace."
mom, come on, don't you believe me? Why don't you believe your own son?"
never get clean from it! Nobody does! They always go back for more...whether
it be the friend requests, the comments, or whatever they're in it for,
they always go back! Plus, this is what you said when you were out of
rehab for the sixth time, and then we caught you right after we left the
room! You're pathetic. You disgust me."
me alone then."
'cos the minute I leave, you'll be hitting it up again. Wait 'til your
dad comes home. He's gonna be pissssed."
(The dad comes
He's on MySpace!"
(The dad gazes
deep into his son's eyes.)
are!" (turns to wife) "He is! Goddamnit, if you don't stop this
shit right now, you'll be back on the streets! THERE WILL BE NO MYSPACE
IN MY HOUSE!" (starts taking off belt)
not on MySpace!"
give me that bullshit! I smelled it when I came in! You reek of it! You
think we're stupid?!? Huh?!? You think we're FUCKING STUPID, IS THAT IT?!?
Well, let me tell you, I know a MySpacer when I see one. They were all
around when we were teenagers. We know them better than you do."
do you have to do this to us? Can't you see how much it hurts us? We love
you, but you've changed. You're not who you used to be...at all. You post
pictures that you took of yourself using a mirror! That's not the son
we knew and loved. You type really short sentences/facts about yourself,
without capitalizing the first letter of the sentence, which you know
you should do, and emphasizing certain words. The descriptions under your
pictures form a sentence, a really emo one, when read from first to last
in your "View More Pics" section."
guys were on my MySpace?"
takes one to know one."
just gonna be another statistic, don't you see? It all leads to nowhere.
You'll just be another number. You're just gonna be another one of Tom's