“Chronivac Solutions. Steve speaking, how may I help you?”
“Errr… Are you the guys from those online ads?”
The voice sounded very timid and really, really young - Perfect!
“Which promotion are you referring to sir?” I asked. “We literally run hundreds of different advertising campaigns.”
There was stunned silence on the other end of line.
I enjoyed making the little ones squirm.
Another awkward pause.
“Yes, sir?” I prodded cruelly.
Finally, the young man decided that the least embarrassing approach would be to recite it all as fast as he could - “It’s the one where it asks ‘Do you want to gaze into a mirror and admire COLOSSAL, HE-MAN SHOULDERS that can press a FREAKING SCHOOL BUS OVERHEAD ONE-HANDED?’ And… ‘Do you wish to PULVERIZE fire hydrants and bollards when you accidentally brush against them with your JUGGERNAUT THIGHS?’ And… um… ‘What if EVERY FUCKING NIGHT you needed to grapple your BONE-CRUSHING HANDS on a RAGING SUPER-COCK that can SMASH through SOLID STEEL?’ And —”
“Whoa, sir - slow down!” I protested. “I merely meant that you tell me the promotion code displayed on the ad.”
“OOh! Right… right! Errr… Let me see.. it’s SWOLEMEUPINTOANUNSTOPPABLETITANOFFURY-JAN-2016.”
I typed the offer code into the input field and read the details that appeared on the monitor.
Interesting. The ad was specifically targeted at a demographic who collected gaming miniatures, browsed bullying advice forums, visited muscle growth fetish sites and had a habit of borrowing their parents’ credit cards.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I’ve got the package details in front of me. So you’re looking at the $99.95 New Year’s TOTAL-SMUCK-TO-MOUTHWATERING-FUCK deal?”
“Yeah,” he replied excitedly. “That’s exactly it.”
“Okay, I need to get your credit card details.”
He quickly fired off the relevant numbers. He’s obviously done a lot of internet shopping with his Dad’s card.
“That seems to check out correctly, Mr Mandell,” I said. “And do you confirm that you are over 18?”
“Yes,” he replied casually.
“There is also a question that we need to legally ask applicants for this particular package,” I added. “Are you currently going through any emotional or physical crises like abuse, bullying, trauma etc, or currently undergoing any form of counseling or treatment, professional or otherwise, to deal with such a crisis?”
I pause for a few seconds, allowing the shy dork to simmer to a panic.
“Sounds good to me, Mr Mandell,” I replied. “Now, do you want the ‘Change reality so that I’ve always been WORSHIPPED AS A GOD. Since the dawn of my existence, JOCKS KISS MY FEET and HOT BITCHES SLOBBER OVER MY DICK!” option or ‘NO! Don’t alter any fucking memories - I want all my enemies to REMEMBER MY WUSSY-ASS BODY AS IT WAS when I TEAR THEIR PUNY LITTLE LIMBS APART AND FORCE THEM TO LICK MY DIVINE GOD-PITS!’ ?”
“Fu-uck! - Err, I mean.. I would like the second option please.”
And that was it. The Chronivac was set up to always target the caller, wherever he or she was. I simply pressed the onscreen button with an anti-climatical click.
It only takes a few seconds.
“So what happens next? Do I get a parcel or someth— HO-LEE FUC—“
The line goes dead.
No phone ever survives the megatons of pressure suddenly being forced onto it.
Good hunting little guy, I willed as I switched my Chronivac to Camera Mode and watched a new hunky monstrosity get slowly birthed.