On the internet, I am Snoink. That is, I am Snoink, the loveable (well, mostly) teenager who is rather eccentric and likes pigs. Did I mention I was a teenager girl?
Well, that’s all a lie. To be honest, if you look at my appearance now, I am balding. Horribly. I used to have thick dark curls running from my head, and I kept my hair long, since it seemed to be a hit with the girls. Now I find myself having to comb my hair over the shiny top of my head to make it look like I have some hair. My hair, once long and gorgeous, is rapidly going fast. And it’s short now. My girlfriend didn’t like it long.
My pride is my beard. It’s long and wispy. A little gray, mind you, but I would rather have it gray than to have it all gone. Sometimes, if I want to flirt with the girls, I twirl my fingers around my beard. My girlfriend says I resemble a monkey when I do that. She’s just jealous.
This may come as a surprise to you – or not. On TYWC, where I first appeared, they thought I was a man at first. “Snoink” would always be called a “he” and there was no stopping it. This was appalling to me. After all, I was trying to act like a girl. You see, it first started with a science fiction novel I was writing. I wanted to write it from a girl’s point of view. So I decided, why not pretend to be a girl? I would have to make sure people believed me, but why wouldn’t they?
So it comes to no surprise when I was horrified that people might have “figured” out the truth. It was humiliating, to say in the least. Perhaps it was my fault. After all, I did pick the horrible name of “Snoink,” which can be taken either way. Maybe if I picked something such as “Pixyunicorn622” I would be taken as a girl. But no matter. I was determined to act my part, no matter at what cost.
Finally, after several years, I got my act down. I knew how to be a girl. But then I was hooked with the internet. After all, it’s funny having people to chat with. Especially since most of the writers are girls…
You can see my dilemma. My girlfriend was ditsy at most, manipulative at worse. While the teenagers on these sites would listen to my (always made up) problems and sympathize, she would simply get angry at me. Finally, I found myself getting closer to my online friends. They understood me.
There was one online friend who particularly interested me. Her name was Beethoven. Although she wasn’t in any particular writing activities I was in, she did like the critiques I gave her, and a couple of years later, she personally gratified me by saying that she still did like my critiques. I was happy with her, but it was only until I saw her picture was I truly smitten. She was lovely. She had short gold hair, with dark framed glasses sitting precociously on her nose, and was seated in a patch of daffodils. She was a homeschooler who had just turned 17, and she was a devout Christian, which meant she was just another sucker. Everything about her screamed, “naïve.” But she was pretty.
And only an hour away.
I arranged a meeting with her. It was quite easy. I told her that I would love to meet her, and she said she would love to meet me too. Then I offered to meet with her at a park. She would drive there, and I would wait. I told her what I looked like – brown hair that shimmered gold or red, depending how bright it was, deep blue eyes that would shine gray at times, and full luscious red lips which were naturally so from my birth. I had a full figure, but I was a little short. Even so, I was well-proportioned and well-endowed. Basically? I looked like my niece. I sent her a picture of my niece to her.
She sent a similar description of herself, telling me how much she would love to meet me.
I was determined to find out how far her “love” would go.
It took a while to drive there, but finally I was at the meeting spot. It was at a secluded park near a river. People were bustling back and forth, fishing rods in one hand, bait in the other. I laughed silently at them, looking at my watch in amusement. It was much too late in the day for them to catch anything. I thought about telling them, but I decided not to, enjoying the defeated looks on their faces as they came back. I looked at my watch again – she was late.
I sighed, perking up at every car that went past, looking for the beautiful girl in the glasses. No such luck. All of the cars seemed to have an elderly couple in it. I looked around at the playground again. A little girl was there on a dinosaur toy rocking it back and forth. “Hello,” I said, approaching her cautiously.
She looked at me doubtfully. “Hello.”
“How are you doing today?” I said this very slowly, just in case she didn’t understand me well. Her frown deepened.
“Good.”
I looked around again, not seeing the beautiful girl. The only person in the playground, where I told her to meet, was this little girl. I doubted Beethoven, the ever-so sophisticated writer, was her.
“How old are you?”
She sucked her finger. “Seven.”
She was beginning to annoy me. “Well, nice meeting you, little girl.” I stepped back into the shadows, looking around. If she were around, I would notice her. After all, she had radiated with beauty in the picture. All her writing suggested that she was a naïve little girl who needed to grow up. I had intended to help her (so to speak) growing up, but I couldn’t do it if she never came. I stamped my foot impatiently.
Then I sighed.
The reason why I had picked her, out of all my online friends, was not because she was particularly beautiful, nor was it because she was more naïve, though both of those were true enough. It was because she had read a story I had written which was a little bit more – shall we say – unorthodox. It was a brutal rape scene, and she had said that it had frightened her at first, but she liked it all the same. Which suggested her open mind and tolerance might be easily expanded to reality.
I waited impatiently. Once more I looked around, noticing a new elderly couple driving around the park. I watched them drive by.
Then I noticed something else. Someone was lurking in the shadows across the street from where I was, watching the playground and looking at his watch. He was about my age, but a lot more ragged than I was with more wild eyes. I stared at him. He looked at his watch again and then sighed. He didn’t notice me at all, but when a car drove by, I noticed his eyes hungrily look into it, until he saw the elderly occupants in it. His face fell.
My stomach dropped.
Slowly I walked over there. “Beethoven?” I asked cautiously.
He looked up, surprised.
“Snoink,” I said, giving him a weak smile. His eyes widened.
“Snoink?”
“Yes. Snoink.” I watched his face turn with interest. He repeated my name silently, his face filled with wonder and doubt.
“You’re actually--?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Then I began to laugh, gently at first, until it came out as a roar. He joined me. Finally, wiping the tears in my eyes, I said, “We’re just a bunch of perverts, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.”
I chuckled more. He gave a nervous laugh. I realized how awkward the situation was at once, and straightened up, a serious look on my face. “Wanna drink?”
He looked relieved. “Sure.”
“Then come on. We’ve got much to talk about. For instance, your constant use of adjectives. You know, adjectives should be used very preciously…”
We walked to the nearest bar.
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125,022 Literary Works • 672,752 Reviews
HEY, SNOINK, REMEMBER THIS.
XD
For a second, I was afraid that my current age was closer to 40 than it was to the age that I wrote this. Then I looked at the date and was somewhat happy... this is only 11 years old! I still have a little over 12 years to go till I become 40!
Beet and I actually met back in the day! We were both teenage girls who blabbered on about writing. It was great!
But yeah.
This frightens me.
Wow, Snoink.
This was actually hilarious.
Where do you get it from? Your talent to write and be able to make people laugh?
Favourite lines:
Sometimes, if I want to flirt with the girls, I twirl my fingers around my beard. My girlfriend says I resemble a monkey when I do that. She’s just jealous.
Now that was just the best! I was laughing till tears came to my eyes.
and
So it comes to no surprise when I was horrified that people might have “figured” out the truth. It was humiliating, to say in the least. Perhaps it was my fault. After all, I did pick the horrible name of “Snoink,” which can be taken either way. Maybe if I picked something such as “Pixyunicorn322” I would be taken as a girl. But no matter. I was determined to act my part, no matter at what cost.
Now that is my kind of humour.
There's just one thing:
Once more I looked around, noticing a new elderly couple driving around the park. I watched them drive by.
This might have been for humourous effect, but I just wanted to point out this doesn't completely make sense, since in one sentence you stated that you noticed they're driving round the park, and then you said you watched them do so.
Okay, I"m not making sense either.
But still. This was a masterpiece.
Sarah
xxx
Holy SHIT Snoink, that creeped the hell out of me!
and it's well written.
*glares suspiciously at all YWS members*
Wow. Seriously. Scary thought how you never know who your online friends really are.
Nice ending, though
XxxDo
Ps. Seriously creepy, 0.o
...this was very...strange.
I believed that you were an old man; and mind you, that wasn't very good, lol. I kinda got creeped out. I thought that this was going to be serious...Snoink was going to meet a person and then...do who knows what. Well, thank heavens that it didn't turn out like that!
Well, it was well written. Good job!
BBB
OMG!
i believed you! seriously i did!
*shamed*
nice story!!!
- - - Old Balding Writer's Society - - - UNITE!
funnnnnnyyyy
But I've seen pictures of you...so obviously...well...hahaha
Glad you liked it! And I edited your post slightly so it would fit.
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
well done snoink
After reading other people's responses to the story, I'm ashamed to admit that I believed it. *shrugs* You had me convinced.
No, it's the part that makes it funny, um... *giggle*
LOL, yes, it's the ending that kills it. But I sort of like it... it doesn't get unnecessarily gory or anything. It's quite funny actually.
That was flippin creepy. You had me fooled there till the end which made me laugh. Really good though! I liked it.
lol, Grif, I love it. The Old Balding Writers Society... has a nice ring to it ;P
He hee great irony.
I love black humour!
Good idea Grif!
No... I'm not REALLY a 40 year old man. Otherwise, my word choice is all off.
Everyone here is a 40 year old man, why don't we turn this into the "Old Balding Writers Society?"
This... is... so... freakin'... scary.
I am now totally suspicious and terrified of anyone I met/will meet, on the internet.
*screams*
BEET! *huggles*
Thanks.
Um, I would like you to meet Beet, who is the girl/creepy man which this is dedicated to. ^_^
Oops! Beet already mentioned the teenager/teenage mistake. *whimpers*
As for the rest?
Oh goodness, Snoink, you shared it? o.O lol
Awww, and I'm honoured that you quoted me ; P
ok, here's what i have! (and my remarks (snide and otherwise, mostly otherwise) as well..)
On the internet, I am Snoink. That is, I am Snoink, the loveable (well, mostly) teenager who is rather eccentric and likes pigs. Did I mention I was a teenager girl? teenage? typo
Well, that’s all a lie. no, really? couldn't tell from the title. telling, funny, though To be honest, if you look at my appearance now, I am balding. Horribly. I used to have thick dark curls running from my head, and I kept my hair long, since it seemed to be a hit with the girls. Now I find myself (having to comb) my hair over the shiny shinny? top of my head to make it look like I have some hair. (part in Parens) erm.. awkward, andcombing sounds more like a thing a guy would do.. My hair, once long and gorgeous, is rapidly going fast. And it’s short now. My girlfriend didn’t like it long. irony. love it
My pride is my beard. It’s long and wispy. A little gray, mind you, but I would rather have it gray than to have it all gone. Sometimes, if I want to flirt TMI! er.. flirt.. personally, I don't like how this is worded, becuase it sounds more like something a girl woudl say than a guy, going off my friends with the girls, I twirl my fingers around my beard. My girlfriend says I resemble a monkey when I do that. She’s just jealous. I'm just loving this girlfriend
This may come as a surprise to you – or not. On TYWC, where I first appeared, they thought I was a man at first. “Snoink” would always be called a “he” and there was no stopping it. This was appalling to me. After all, I was trying to act like a girl. You see, it first started with a science fiction novel I was writing. I wanted to write it from a girl’s point of view. So I decided, why not pretend to be a girl? I would have to make sure people believed me, but why wouldn’t they?
So it comes to no surprise nit-picky nit-pick, but you use "suprise" to start of the last paragraph, too, so it sounds repetative when I was horrified that people might have “figured” out the truth. It was humiliating, to say in the least. Perhaps it was my fault. After all, I did pick the horrible name of “Snoink,” which can be taken either way. Maybe if I picked something such as “Pixyunicorn322” I would be taken as a girl. But no matter. I was determined to act my part, no matter at what cost.
Finally, after several years, I got my act down. I knew how to be a girl. But but? then I was hooked with the internet. After all, it’s funny funny? having people to chat with. Especially since most of the writers are girls…
You can see my dilemma. My girlfriend was ditsy at most, manipulative at worse. While the teenagers on these sites would listen to my (always made up) problems and sympathize, she would simply get angry at me. Finally, I found myself getting closer to my online friends. They understood me. ew. "they understood me." not my favourite line of prose
There was one online friend who particularly interested me. Her name was Beethoven. Although she wasn’t in any particular writing activities I was in, she did like the critiques I gave her, and a couple of years later, she personally gratified me by saying that she still did like my critiques. I was happy with her, but it was only until I saw her picture was I truly smittensmitten? er... She was lovely. She had short gold hair, with dark framed glasses sitting precociously on her nose, and was seated in a patch of daffodils. She was a homeschooler who had just turned 17, and she was a devout Christian, which meant she was just another sucker. Everything about her screamed, “naïve.” But she was pretty.
And only an hour away.
I arranged a meeting with her. It was quite easy. I told her that I would love to meet her, and she said she would love to meet me too. birds of a feather.. Then I offered to meet with her at a park. She would drive there, and I would wait. I told her what I looked like – brown hair that shimmered gold or red, depending how bright it was, deep blue eyes that would shine gray at times, and full luscious red lips which were naturally so from my birth. ah yes.. do you know any girls that would describe themselves that way? or guys acting like girls (not including in jest)? I had a full figure, but I was a little short. Even so, I was well-proportioned and well-endowed. Basically? I looked like my niece. I sent her a picture of my niece to her. this guy thinks of his neice like that? creepy
She sent a similar description of herself, telling me how much she would love to meet me.
I was determined to find out how far her “love” would go.
It took a while to drive there, but finally I was at the meeting spot. It was at a secluded park alarm bells are ringing..near a river. People were bustling back and forth, fishing rods in one hand, bait in the other. I laughed silently at them, looking at my watch in amusement. It was much too late in the day for them to catch anything. I thought about telling them, but I decided not to, enjoying the defeated looks on their faces as they came back. I looked at my watch again – she was late.
I sighed, perking up at every car that went past, looking for the beautiful girl in the glasses. No such luck. All of the cars seemed to have an elderly couple in it. I looked around at the playground again. A little girl was there on a dinosaur toy rocking it back and forth. “Hello,” I said, approaching her cautiously.
She looked at me doubtfully. “Hello.”
“How are you doing today?” I said this very slowly, just in case she didn’t understand me well. Her frown deepened.
“Good.”
I looked around again, not seeing the beautiful girl. The only person in the playground, where I told her to meet, was this little girl. I doubted Beethoven, the ever-so sophisticated writer, was her.
“How old are you?”
She sucked her finger. “Seven.”
She was beginning to annoy me. “Well, nice meeting you, little girl.”ok, this is officially disturbing.. going up to little girls? and where were her parents? I stepped back into the shadows, looking around. If she were around, I would notice her. After all, she had radiated with beauty in the picture. "radiated beauty"? erm.. doesn't sound right to me. guys i know would say "hot", and judging on the way you've written this, this guy is a creep, and woudl probably think like immature teenage guys would (no offence to teenage guys) All her writing suggested that she was a naïve little girl who needed to grow up. I had intended to help her (so to speak) growing up, but I couldn’t do it ok, way past creep, now. talk abotu suggestive..also, if you want to be really subtle, take those two words out, "do it", as the next paragraph explain pretty clearly in my book what "growing up" he intends to help with if she never came. I stamped my foot impatiently.
Then I sighed. like sighing, eh?
The reason why I had picked her, out of all my online friends, was not because she was particularly beautiful, nor was it because she was more naïve, though both of those were true enough. It was because she had read a story I had written which was a little bit more – shall we say – unorthodox. It was a brutal rape scene, and she had said that it had frightened her at first, but she liked it all the same. Which suggested her open mind and tolerance might be easily expanded to reality.
I waited impatiently. Once more I looked around, noticing a new elderly couple driving around the park. I watched them drive by.
Then I noticed something else. Someone was lurking in the shadows across the street from where I was, watching the playground and looking at his watch. He was about my age, but a lot more ragged than I was with more wild eyes. I stared at him. He looked at his watch again and then sighed. He didn’t notice me at all, but when a car drove by, I noticed his eyes hungrily look into it, until he saw the elderly occupants in it. His face fell.
My stomach dropped.
Slowly I walked over there. “Beethoven?” I asked cautiously.
He looked up, surprised.
“Snoink,” I said, giving him a weak smile. His eyes widened.
“Snoink?”
“Yes. Snoink.” I watched his face turn with interest. He repeated my name silently, his face filled with wonder and doubt.
“You’re actually--?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Then I began to laugh hehe, not giggling. good, gently at first, until it came out as a roar. He joined me. Finally, wiping the tears in my eyes, I said, “We’re just a bunch of perverts, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.”
I chuckled not as bad as "giggle"... more. He gave a nervous laugh. I realized how awkward the situation was at once, and straightened up, a serious look on my face. “Wanna drink?”
He looked relieved. “Sure.”
“Then come on. We’ve got much to talk about. For instance, your constant use of adjectives. You know, adjectives should be used very preciously…”
We walked to the nearest bar.
I changed it to "chuckled" though!
Sure, give me a full critique. It might help with my other stories, especially since you're talking about word choice, which is something I am keenly interested in.
*twirls beard in hand thoughtfully*
I think I'm to amused/shocked to really bother critiquing this. Goodness Snoink. This was disturbing as all else. Quite possible, and still throughly wrong. i do agree the word choice seems a bit off for a 40 year old man, though. giggles.. made me remember you're a girl writing as a 40 year old man. other than that, very creepy. if you want major nit-picks, just ask. I'm more than happy ot obligue.
how long's your beard?
*blinks* holy... I... uh... holy...
I'm not sure whether to be disturbed by this or just laugh my head off. It was, uh... *rereads story* holy heck, I'm disturbed...
Okay... Well, it was well-written, so good job there... *is still staring at the screen, wide-eyed*
But at the beginning you use the word "gorgeous" to describe his hair, and I have never heard a guy use that word unless it was in reference to a girl. That really is my only complaint...
But still... wow... if you wanted a reaction, you got it... *walks away blinking and shaking her head*
Right now this is a funny story.
Should I make it a creepy story with a more believable ending?
And actually, some adult men do giggle. Ever see Mythbusters? He doesn't do it often, but Jamie does giggle.
That was awesome! I kinda figured they might both be perverts, but still. Hilarious! Great job!
Yeah. I remember odd facts like that.
Hehe!
I'm a 17-year old girl. I met Beethoven last week, but it was completely different than this. We were both who we said we were, and it was fun. We hiked in the wilderness, I told her near death stories that I had there, and we had a blast. When I teased her that I would write a story like this, she giggled. So I wrote it for her. ^__^
This was her response about it, btw...
Ich bin konfus.
Sind Sie einen Mann oder ein Madchen?
Ackpt, are you a girl or man? I usualy hate to ask this question.
He isn't?
That was awesome. I was really freaked out for a while there, because it just goes to show you what can happen.
Very original though.
Good to know you're not a man.
*grumbles* Okay, okay, I don't giggle. I just wanted to use a word that wasn't "laughed." I changed it to "chuckled." Better now? And the last sentence, I changed, but only barely. This is what goes to show how bad your grammar gets when it's late at night.
LoL! The Fantasy Godfather is my name because I tend off to speak eagerly of killing off my characters. That and doing other nasty things to them. It's mentioned briefly in the story. Godmother might have worked, but it gives the wrong image. Godfather is much better.
Yeah...
Oh dear, Rei! That was a long long time ago, back in TYWC a couple of years back. It's amazing that you still remember. ^___^ But as I go by two names on the internet, well... *strokes beard thoughtfully*
Wanna eat some cookies?
it's like what rei said... believeable
STOP SCARYING ME WE TALKED ABOUT COOKIES TOGETHER!!!
WHAT? OMG UR A 40 YR OLD MAN?!?!?!?!?! OMG!!!
heheh, jk, lol. There was a time in the middle where it had me a little bit convinced though. Thats really really well written.
Come on, now. All men are different. You should meet my father.
I'm a 40 year old man and I giggle.
Sweet jesus, this is neat.
Err... yeah... 40 year old men dont... giggle.
Haha! Nice! Not as creepy as you made it out to be, but maybe it's because you told me about it beforehand. Who knows who here really is this man? *looks around*
I almost began to believe it after a while. Really creepy. But in the end, it wasn't that convincing. Although I, too, thought you were a boy until we had e-mailed each other and saw what your real name is.
Aha! I have found proof!
'The Fantasy Godfather'
That sounds very much like a sketch cartoon I saw once. Dunno what it was called (cos I started watching half way through) but this story sounds very similiar to one of the sketches.
Hehehehe. That was great...
Only thing- 'I giggled more.' 40-Year-Old men don't giggle, really.
YAY!
lol good story but just shows you what can happen lol.