Romancing Grendel’s Mother: Fear & Loathing on the Internet

Romancing Grendel’s Mother!

Fear & Loathing on the Internet

Mike Knowles

Copyright 2011 by Mike Knowles

Smashwords Edition

Introduction

Charity

The Dreadful Fall of the Trollbuster General!

This is the second book in a trilogy about some of the cyber trolls I ran into on a popular Internet pen pal site. The mad, the bad and the ugly. On the other hand, as the photo above shows, this one was really quite good looking. And, although cyber trolls come in many flavours, they all share the following traits: They like to pick arguments with other people and they like to manipulate them. In other words, they’re just like politicians!

This makes them fair game for the Trollbuster General. However, in this instance I can’t take the moral high ground. I regret to say that I became a troll myself. Instead of keeping her at arm’s length, I established a relationship with this dreadful woman. And then I set out to manipulate it. But those familiar with the story of Beowulf will know that Grendel’s mum had an adverse effect on men.

The Sad Tale of a Billy No-Mates

This book is about a tempestuous cyber affair with a troll. A troll I came across by accident after I joined a pen pal site called Interpals. However, let me start by making one thing perfectly clear: I’m not, by any stretch of the imagination, a gregarious person. I didn’t go on there looking for friends. If this were the Middle Ages or Victorian England, I’d be a hermit. In fact, if such a thing were possible, I’d make friends with a hermit. Why? Because they like nothing better than to be left alone. So you don’t have to talk to them, sort out their problems or buy them any presents. I short, they’re easy to manage.

On the subject of hermits, I recall learning that some rich Victorians actually employed people to act as hermits on their estate. A job that would have suited me down to the ground or, in this case, the cave. A hermit was regarded as a landscape gardening accessory, like a bird box. Except in this case it wasn’t for the purpose of breeding. Hermits, being solitary by nature, do not breed. At least not voluntarily. In other words, if you wanted them to breed you’d have to force them to do so. And I regret to say that I find this proposition rather intriguing. So the reader has learned that I’m not only an introvert, but that I also have perverted sexual fantasies. Still, they say confession is good for the soul.

The Belgian Binge Drinker

So what was I doing on this pen pal site? I was, in fact looking for someone who might have had some information about one of my relatives. It was a long shot, but long shots sometimes pay off. But I’m also a writer and people fascinate me. So, instead of hunting for lost relatives, I threw all caution to the winds and struck up a friendship with a female Belgian binge drinker who later confessed that she was an American called Charity. Her profile was intriguing. It looked like she’d had a few too many when she wrote it out. I tend at times to be rather sarcastic, so the temptation to have a pop at her proved too great. And it wasn’t long before we were trading insults. My descent into Trolldom had started.

That in itself would have been bad enough. But I was a glutton for punishment. And before very long we ended up having a tempestuous cyber affair. Together we must have sent each other more than a 1000 emails. I remember at one point doing a word count and mine alone came to over 200,000! That’s when I knew how Tolstoy must have felt when writing War and Peace. Although, to give him his due, his book is probably far more artistic.

A Sad Record of a Wasted Year!

This book contains a selection of her emails covering the year 2008. And, although I saved some of my emails, I’ve only included a few of the better ones. After all, I have my reputation as a writer to consider. Not only that, I can also indulge in a bit of censorship and leave out any embarrassing bits.

From the very beginning Charity fascinated me. It was she who introduced me to the cyber trolls on the site. A subject I covered in the first book in the series, Randy McNob: Fear & Loathing on the Internet. Calling myself The Trollbuster General, we had great fun hunting them down. However, I’m not that gullible and I suspected Charity was a troll herself. For a start she’d pretended to be someone else. But, to be fair, using a false identity doesn’t automatically make you a troll. There are all sorts of reasons why people wish to remain anonymous. I’ve used false identities myself. But I’ve always either mentioned they were false or I’ve left clues as to my real ID. Trolls, however, never reveal their true identities.

The Troll’s MO

The clue lies in the ID itself. Is it a provocative one? Trolls infiltrate social sites and forums, so we look at what the individual has posted. Have they gotten into several arguments? If so then you can bet there’s a troll behind it. Charity’s profile was provocative because passing yourself off as an argumentative Belgian female alcoholic is just asking for trouble. Especially from other Belgian women who think you’re giving them a bad name. The fact that she was all too ready to trade insults with all and sundry merely confirmed what I already knew.

There was just one problem. Like Grendel’s mother she turned out to be a very articulate and alluring character. She was also mercurial with sudden mood swings. However, instead of putting me off, these mood swings merely fascinated me even more. So the temptation to write a book about her proved impossible to resist. However, at that time I had other projects to work on so the idea was put on the back burner. On top of which, there was yet another troll who was stalking me. The eponymous Pink Coat and her brother. For them trolling had turned into a family affair.

Like Puppets on a String!

After becoming emotionally involved with Charity I sought to manipulate our relationship. But then so did she. Indeed, we were both pulling each other’s strings like a pair of demented puppet masters. Neither of us believed that this was a genuine romance. As for myself, I had to swallow my pride. I was no Ronnie Wood or Hugh Heffner. In my view, anyone over 60 who falls for a woman less than half their age is just plain sad. And any tears that may have been shed during our relationship were of the crocodile variety. Later I was told by others who knew her that this was a game Charity had played on others.

Part 1: Charity’s Emails

From: Charity

To: Mike Knowles

Dear Mike,

You are so silly, hehee, what a big goop, wicked sense of humor, splendid just splendid I tell you. I posted on your wall by the way, I have unblocked you, just because you spoke Katherine Hepburn's name with my own in one sentence! You have redeemed yourself and now worthy to post. You know, yes this is odd, you and I were in a rumble a few days back, now look at us, shaking hands ,sharing our fascination about McNob, talking over a cup of tea. I'll have you know I laughed at nearly every posts of your cruelty towards me. I especially recall one in which you refer to my face as a bursted sausage, oh geez I'm am laughing again, how the hell did you come up with that one, too funny. When I look at my own profile picture with my shawl thing, for reasons beyond me I think of the phrase I pulled down your pants. ????

Well you have done a lot in your life, you have accomplished a lot with the writing processes. Congratulations on everything, and it's not over yet I see. I'll volunteer to be one of your characters, perhaps a sausage faced teenager going through puberty. Eeeee, never mind that. I know a couple of writers, one from Norway( very private, publishes nothing) who writes mainly erotic stories fused with psychological energy. Then a older man from Canada, he concentrates on teen adult themes and plays. The latter has a rough time getting his work published. I myself have never tried to publish anything I've written, mainly poetry. I have this proclivity to carry along a notebook and pencil with me at all times( i don't like using pens) simply because I have too many thought streams brewing in my mind that literally I am prepared to jot down anything that is ready to be designed. I literally have a huge box full of notebooks with pure thoughts written in them, in a sense I have captured time on a paper. The same with photography, I capture time and memory. I'm good at poetry and riddles, but many people have a difficult time understanding what I write, they have lazy brains is all. The ability to capture my words and to work and decipher in between the sentences is there outlined for them, but still most don't have the inspiration or desire to use their brains perhaps. I don't have the desire to make my work known, I care nothing for the spotlight, in fact I hate mainstream. Unlike most Americans, I prefer being in the shadow of things, not the spectacle, but rather the observer. The mainstream is tainted, it's a disease, artists typically lose themselves there, they cheapen their art. Please, do take this light heartedly, I am in no way speaking about you here, at all.

So you're from the UK, I believe we have a significant time difference. I never felt I had a solid footing in this country. The roots of my heart long for Europe. I believe it all started as something as small as the love for the scenic places. The grand old architecture. The amazing history of it all. Then more details thickened the yarn. For instance, my obsession with art , I think I prefer it to sex. NO! Seriously! Anything with the art process has a hold on me, be it music( I play piano), writing, photography , theatre and the list goes on. There is nothing else that comes close to genuine happiness. So that's why when I read you went to the school of art where Lowry studied, I had a dual effect, on the one hand I was envious, and on the other I felt connected to the painters of old. The museum I work in is the J. Paul Getty Museum out in LA. It's not just that i'm biased, but I think it the best museum in LA. It is situated on top of a cliff next to the 405 freeway. They have a garden section that is just so terribly soothing to the soul.The 3rd floor on the West building I believe, overlooks the whole of LA, at night this my boy is a spectacular sight to behold. I just got a new digital camera made for shots just as these, I will try and capture some imagery there soon. At night glancing onto the 405, the cars golden headlights and red tail lights form a wonderful looking ribbon band from a distance. Anywho, so yes I love art, but this museum isn't a dinosaur museum silly, and it's Rob Schneider not Adam sandler who has a museum movie out, silly pants. I saw the movie, it was very childish but I found the comedy up my alley. Back to art. The first painter my eyes got a hold of was Van Gogh. Instantly he became one of my top favorite artists. Not only his work but his personal life as it corresponds to nearly every painting of his.THe mind of this man was beautiful. Therefore, it comes as no surprise I now own a 1948 1st edition Paris published set of a 3 volume book set of the Van Gogh Letters, over 2000 pages easily. I would say the most tender book I have read thus far. I then did a 180 and turned to discover the wonderful Dali and Munch. Their work spoke directly to me the instant I saw them, I saw a bit of myself in their work. THey understood.

Hmmm, so sarcasshole how ya doing? I have a sarcasshole uncle, he doesn't have so many friends. With comedians as yourself, either you are liked through and through, or you are hated through and through. It doesn't matter, if it did, we will forever try and please others and that's impossible. I went into my psychological mode on a mail I sent to you when we were enemies. It was me deciphering, attempting to anyhow, your character. Then I wrote something like you sir look to others for support and acceptance to fit in and blah blah blah, tell me, did anything my intelligent ability have truth to it? You might have erased that letter though. I have an annoying tendency to try and break people down to their core and it turns into philosophical prose, I hit bulls eyes many times. All one has to do is go deep into a very alert conscious level and listen to words and the dots connect.

Aye aye, so I was