this is a story about lingo and migration
"Hey. Hey, kid," said Canon X. "Got a little somethin' somethin' for ya."
"What?" said Fan 1. Canon X was a shady-looking figure standing on a corner, and Fan 1 thought it didn't think it looked too hot. Sort of pale and sweaty, actually. "What are you--"
"Just come over here," said Canon X. "Got something new."
"Oh my God," said Fan 2. "So good. It's soooooo good. You've got to let it give them to you." Fan 2 didn't look too good either; she was sorta slumped against the brick wall, like maybe it was holding her up. Her eyes had this blissed out, dazed look, like she couldn't focus.
Fan 1 started slowly backing away. "I think maybe I'll just . . ."
"Come on," said Canon X. "Let me give 'em to you. You don't like 'em, guarantee I'll leave ya alone."
"I don't think I should get involved with another stranger," Fan 1 said stoutly. She'd made this resolution all by herself. Yesterday. It was really important though.
"Just try them," said Fan 2, with this sort of low, gutteral moan. Her head lolled against the brick. "They're the best--"
Fan 1 began, "I'm still not sure--"
"Here you go, nice and easy," said Canon X, and then it gave her something.
It might have been somethings, or maybe it was a singular verb ending in s? Like . . . mumps. Whatever they were, they were freakin' spectacular, and got Fan 1 right in the--you know what, and they felt like, they felt like--well, she wasn't able to describe what they made her feel like, only that she had them, and God, they were good, and was that a pony?
Fan 1 was maybe sort of sitting on the curb by now; she felt like she'd just sort of melted into a puddle and was going 'la la la' looking at the sky because oooooooooh what was that song on the radio, where maybe there was more of this? And that song sounded just like the Avengers.
It was around then that Fan 3 walked up, and Fan 2 said, "Oh my God, Fan 3. You've got to try this shit. This shit is so so good. Let Canon give you some."
Fan 3 looked at Fan 2, then at Canon X, then at Fan 1. It was a kind of world-weary, sardonic look.
"It's new," said Canon X, waving the shit around.
"It's fucking brilliant," said Fan 2.
"La la la," said Fan 1.
"Um," said Fan 3. "Not to be a party pooper? You may be new, but your type always sells the same shit."
Canon X just shrugged. "You know you want it."
"What?" Fan 2 was sort of coming out of her dazed stupor now, and she looked at Canon X.
"Come on, Fan 2," said Fan 3. "You know you could get that junk from plenty of other canons."
"Yeah." Fan 2 started patting her pockets. "Yeah. I know. I know that; doesn't make it any less good. Hey, Canon, got any more of that?"
"Little bit," Canon said. Fan 2 and Fan 3 put out their hands; Canon X filled them with the remainder of what he had.
"So," said Fan 3, in that same world-weary way. "What are we calling it this year?"
"Hm?" said Fan 2. "Oh. Feels."
"Feels?"
"Yeah. For serious. If anyone catches you saying feeeeeeeeeeelings they'll probably think you're a cop or something. Get with the lingo."
"I liked feeeeeeeeeeeeelings though," said Fan 3. "Everyone could tell the quality of shit Canon was slinging by the number of e's."
"No one could tell," said Fan 2. "No one even knows what it means."
"Please," said Fan 1. "Please, I need more."
"Christ, you didn't even tell her," said Fan 3.
"I thought she could take it slow!" said Fan 2.
"Hey," said Canon X. "Hey."
Fan 3 just ignored it. "Look," she told Fan 1. "Listen. There are whole stores where you can get this stuff. Okay? And they're on discount there. They're cheap, but they're good."
"But--" Fan 1 whimpered.
"That's stealing my business," Canon X said loudly. "You can't steal my product honey; it's mine. I'm the creator."
"I need," said Fan 1. She looked up at Fan 3 with great big eyes. "I need more."
"Trust me, honey," Fan 3 said in a soothing way. "This is the only time when the middle man's gonna give you a lot more than your distributor, okay, and gonna charge you a whole lot less. Want to come with me?"
"You're a bad influence," said Canon X. "You're corrupting her. Corrupting her."
"You're the one who ran out of stuff," Fan 3 said, helping Fan 1 to stand. "Come on, honey."
"Hey, okay," said Fan 2, peeling herself off the brick wall. "But you know, I found them cheaper. And quicker. The stuff they're giving hits you wham." She clapped her hands together hard. "Like a streetcar. Immediately. I'm serious, no waiting around."
"We're not going there," said Fan 3, helping to steer Fan 1 down the street. "Come on. We're going somewhere nice."
"Honestly," said Fan 2. "I mean, Canon X is a dirty dealer; he'll get you hooked and then he'll withhold the goods until you pay up the nose for them--but honestly, those journaling sites, they're sort of fucking elitist there. It's like you've got to dick around and make friends there, have conversations before they'll give you the goods. Trust me, Fan 1, where we're going, they'll just give them to you. Straight up. No questions asked. They won't even ask who the fuck you are; they'll just give them to you and give them to you until you're high as a fucking--"
"We're not going there," said Fan 3.
"I . . . I want to go there," said Fan 1, disentangling herself from Fan 3. "I think . . . I need to go there."
"Fan 1," Fan 3 began to say.
"I need them," Fan 1 tried to explain. "I want them so bad--I just want them so bad--"
"Shhh," said Fan 2, putting her arm around her. "I know where to get them. They have them all there. All of them."
"Where is," began Fan 1. "What is it--"
"Tumblr," said Fan 2. "Now, hush."
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"What?" said Fan 1. Canon X was a shady-looking figure standing on a corner, and Fan 1 thought it didn't think it looked too hot. Sort of pale and sweaty, actually. "What are you--"
"Just come over here," said Canon X. "Got something new."
"Oh my God," said Fan 2. "So good. It's soooooo good. You've got to let it give them to you." Fan 2 didn't look too good either; she was sorta slumped against the brick wall, like maybe it was holding her up. Her eyes had this blissed out, dazed look, like she couldn't focus.
Fan 1 started slowly backing away. "I think maybe I'll just . . ."
"Come on," said Canon X. "Let me give 'em to you. You don't like 'em, guarantee I'll leave ya alone."
"I don't think I should get involved with another stranger," Fan 1 said stoutly. She'd made this resolution all by herself. Yesterday. It was really important though.
"Just try them," said Fan 2, with this sort of low, gutteral moan. Her head lolled against the brick. "They're the best--"
Fan 1 began, "I'm still not sure--"
"Here you go, nice and easy," said Canon X, and then it gave her something.
It might have been somethings, or maybe it was a singular verb ending in s? Like . . . mumps. Whatever they were, they were freakin' spectacular, and got Fan 1 right in the--you know what, and they felt like, they felt like--well, she wasn't able to describe what they made her feel like, only that she had them, and God, they were good, and was that a pony?
Fan 1 was maybe sort of sitting on the curb by now; she felt like she'd just sort of melted into a puddle and was going 'la la la' looking at the sky because oooooooooh what was that song on the radio, where maybe there was more of this? And that song sounded just like the Avengers.
It was around then that Fan 3 walked up, and Fan 2 said, "Oh my God, Fan 3. You've got to try this shit. This shit is so so good. Let Canon give you some."
Fan 3 looked at Fan 2, then at Canon X, then at Fan 1. It was a kind of world-weary, sardonic look.
"It's new," said Canon X, waving the shit around.
"It's fucking brilliant," said Fan 2.
"La la la," said Fan 1.
"Um," said Fan 3. "Not to be a party pooper? You may be new, but your type always sells the same shit."
Canon X just shrugged. "You know you want it."
"What?" Fan 2 was sort of coming out of her dazed stupor now, and she looked at Canon X.
"Come on, Fan 2," said Fan 3. "You know you could get that junk from plenty of other canons."
"Yeah." Fan 2 started patting her pockets. "Yeah. I know. I know that; doesn't make it any less good. Hey, Canon, got any more of that?"
"Little bit," Canon said. Fan 2 and Fan 3 put out their hands; Canon X filled them with the remainder of what he had.
"So," said Fan 3, in that same world-weary way. "What are we calling it this year?"
"Hm?" said Fan 2. "Oh. Feels."
"Feels?"
"Yeah. For serious. If anyone catches you saying feeeeeeeeeeelings they'll probably think you're a cop or something. Get with the lingo."
"I liked feeeeeeeeeeeeelings though," said Fan 3. "Everyone could tell the quality of shit Canon was slinging by the number of e's."
"No one could tell," said Fan 2. "No one even knows what it means."
"Please," said Fan 1. "Please, I need more."
"Christ, you didn't even tell her," said Fan 3.
"I thought she could take it slow!" said Fan 2.
"Hey," said Canon X. "Hey."
Fan 3 just ignored it. "Look," she told Fan 1. "Listen. There are whole stores where you can get this stuff. Okay? And they're on discount there. They're cheap, but they're good."
"But--" Fan 1 whimpered.
"That's stealing my business," Canon X said loudly. "You can't steal my product honey; it's mine. I'm the creator."
"I need," said Fan 1. She looked up at Fan 3 with great big eyes. "I need more."
"Trust me, honey," Fan 3 said in a soothing way. "This is the only time when the middle man's gonna give you a lot more than your distributor, okay, and gonna charge you a whole lot less. Want to come with me?"
"You're a bad influence," said Canon X. "You're corrupting her. Corrupting her."
"You're the one who ran out of stuff," Fan 3 said, helping Fan 1 to stand. "Come on, honey."
"Hey, okay," said Fan 2, peeling herself off the brick wall. "But you know, I found them cheaper. And quicker. The stuff they're giving hits you wham." She clapped her hands together hard. "Like a streetcar. Immediately. I'm serious, no waiting around."
"We're not going there," said Fan 3, helping to steer Fan 1 down the street. "Come on. We're going somewhere nice."
"Honestly," said Fan 2. "I mean, Canon X is a dirty dealer; he'll get you hooked and then he'll withhold the goods until you pay up the nose for them--but honestly, those journaling sites, they're sort of fucking elitist there. It's like you've got to dick around and make friends there, have conversations before they'll give you the goods. Trust me, Fan 1, where we're going, they'll just give them to you. Straight up. No questions asked. They won't even ask who the fuck you are; they'll just give them to you and give them to you until you're high as a fucking--"
"We're not going there," said Fan 3.
"I . . . I want to go there," said Fan 1, disentangling herself from Fan 3. "I think . . . I need to go there."
"Fan 1," Fan 3 began to say.
"I need them," Fan 1 tried to explain. "I want them so bad--I just want them so bad--"
"Shhh," said Fan 2, putting her arm around her. "I know where to get them. They have them all there. All of them."
"Where is," began Fan 1. "What is it--"
"Tumblr," said Fan 2. "Now, hush."
This entry was originally posted to Dreamwidth. Read Comments | Reply