***********************************
*      PISS PHILEZ NUMBER 8       *
*                                 *
*     An Internet Love Story      *
*                                 *
*         by Sameer Ketkar        *
***********************************

Damn, she's hot, I thought when I opened the door to our apartment.  
"Oh, hello," I said.

	"Hey, is your sister here?"

	God, she doesn't even know my name, "Yeah, she's in her 
room."  Every time I see my sister's friend, all I can think of is :
Damn.  How can I get her to talk to me?  Maybe if she didn't know it 
was me, or didn't know me just by who my sister was.  

Not able to get the topic out of my head, I devised dozens of air-tight, 
fool-proof plans to get her to talk to me over the next three days; and 
rejected each one.  Right about when I was about ready to give up, I was 
frustrated, so I started playing Dune II on my new computer, thinking 
hard about girl troubles and winning a war.  The Atreides were slaughtering 
me (approximately how I felt in two situations) on the seventh level.  I 
wish I could play this over the modem, like Warcraft II, and send a 
victory message to Jim just when I'm about to slaughter him (wait; 
send messages, a modem)  I see a connection here!; my eyes lit up, 
"maybe if she didn't know it was me," yeah, I was thinking on those 
lines a few days ago wasn't I?  Woohoo! We have a winner!

*		*		*

hi, my name's simon, this isn't my real name, but i'd like to remain 
inconspicuous.  I laughed at my first line, then thought that what if 
was a bit too direct.

	good, i finally found someone like me, you see, i don't want 
people to think i'm a computer-nerd or something so i wanna keep my 
name out of it, too, she "said" awesome!  I only had to lie, cheat and 
steal to get hooked up with her—phony personality traits, etc., so the 
computer would match us for cross-talk, a new and exciting service from 
the world of Cyberspace.  you can call me  susie.

	"I never thought I could meet a girl this way, over the computer 
I mean."

	"Yeah, well, I think it's really cool.  But, how do you know I'm 
a girl?"

	I froze, then realized it was just a joke, or I'd made a gross 
miscalculation.  "So," I said, "why don't you tell me something about 
yourself.  How old are you?"

	"Well, I'm a junior now.  I'm not taking too many hard classes, 
but the ones I have are pretty tough."  She wrote on this topic for five minutes.

	"Yeah, I know what you mean.  I'm taking too many hard classes 
and I'm just getting tired and worn out every day.  By the way, I'm a 
sophomore, it's great to be out of that 'fresh-meat' year."

	That night we "talked" for hours (nine to twelve) about mindless 
things from Algebra to  Chemistry to Star Wars.  I never thought she'd 
have such a good personality, I just thought she was just a babe type, 
another gross miscalculation.

	After three days of chatting practically twenty-four seven, we'd 
ascended to calling each other by the distinguished appellations of 
"Moron" and "Idiot-girl", just like real friends do.

	"Yeah, and me and my friends, actually me and my sister would 
always make up new words using the format of fugly (fucking +ugly=
fugly), which we heard once in some techno-crap song.  Me and my friends 
(me mostly)made up a few more, like frad, fhillarious, fawesome, fyou 
(phew, I swear!), fglasshole and fidiot."  She didn't answer for about 
thirty seconds, I checked the hookup on my modem (okay)I checked the 
rest of my computer (okay) "Susie?  Are you there, something wrong?"

	"No, I was just laughing, I'm gonna tell some of those to my 
friends.  Glasshole, huh?"

	"Yeah, but, like I said, I didn't think of all of them."

"Hey, Moron, shut up for a second, I gotta tell you something.  I'd 
really like to meet you, face-to-face I mean.  We could go to Fire 
or something."

	I didn't even flinch.  "Yo, Loser, uh, slow down a sec; sorry 
to have to be the one to break the news to you, but we've been talking 
about nonsense for three days, we probably won't recognize each other 
by stuff like: medium height, black hair, incredibly good-looking (I 
have never told a lie)."

	"Oh well, we'll talk on Saturday, I know this great bar."

	I decided to break the horrible news to her.  "But, me and my 
friends don't go clubbing or to bars, we usually go see movies and 
sleep over each other's houses and stuff like that."

	She paused, as if collecting her thoughts.  The longest eight 
seconds of my life as I waited for her to answer.  "The  then I'll take 
you out.  My friends'll love you, I mean, I can tell one of your goals 
in life has gotta be to make people laugh."

	Holy cow! That really is one of my goals in life.  I smiled.  
I guess we do know each other okay.  But I've never gone "out" out, 
just "out" as in to movies and I don't want to drink.  Oh well, Fuck it. 

Oh yeah, and she's so pretty and I'm so *not*.

*		*		*

Well, it's Saturday, what, am I gonna do?  I don't drink, don't smoke, 
don't go clubbing.  Just do it.  I guess there'll be that peer-pressure 
crap.  I guess I might as well blow my money on a cab, too.

	The cab ride took an excruciatingly long time.  When I got to 
the hotel near the bar (the only place the cabbie recognized), I looked 
around, deserted, except for the hotel staff.  Let's see, make a right 
at the intersection, and the bar is on the left.  What if they don't let 
me in?  My eyes kinda went wide in a comic gesture of dread.  Relax, I 
told myself, you haven't shaved for three days, it's like a forest up there.

	I walked in, made a quick check of the tables and realized she 
wasn't there, yet, the small glimmer of hope in the back of my mind screamed.  
She had to show, she asked me to come here (damn fool, you're early). 

	With my heart threatening to beat right out of my ribcage, I went 
to the back of the bar and sat down near the TV.  I started watching some 
crappy Singaporean MTV wannabe featuring Sting and Kenny-G.  I was just 
starting to develop a taste for the saxophone when I heard a rustle from 
the entrance to the bar.  I looked over and saw five of the most popular 
girls in the school, including Her, walking into the bar.

	She looked me over once, (I just knew) she knew I was Simon, and 
just kinda shrugged.

	Oh god, she thinks I'm an ugly fidiot and is gonna walk out of 
here right now.

	"Simon?" she asked.

	"Brilliant deduction, Holmes, how did you do it, Susie?"  Her 
four friends were only slightly dumbfounded: they'd already hit a few 
bars that night.  She smiled an incredibly warm smile.

	People always give you the biggest smile right before squashing you.

	"Yup, it's you all right.  But you know we can only be friends", 
she stopped, "what's wrong?"  She'd seen my shoulders visibly slacken, 
my expression go dim.

	With my eyes turned to the floor, I croaked out one of the 
hardest words of my life, "Okay," with a sigh and a hand on my brow.  
I definitely, from the day I was born, have had it all wrong.

	"I always thought you were kinda cute", my eyes lit up, but just 
for a second, "but you're just my friend's little brother," she said 
with a slight shaking of her head.  She smiled that incredibly warm 
smile again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
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