The Planet X Society Chapter 1 "The Gathering pt. 2"
"Deleted and banned yet again," said Megan as she got rid of the thread started by Reaper69 and banned the profile he was using.
Other than the fake profiles that spammed the group with bogus posts about free Ipods, dating websites, and sexual performance enhancers, Reaper69 was the only real person to get banned. There had actually been a time when things had gotten so bad that she almost deleted the entire group just so she wouldn't have to deal with the bullshit he caused. While she tried to focus on how much fun she was going to have, her thoughts kept going back to Reaper69 and thinking about the time he had sent her a package in the mail. The guy had actually talked her into giving him her real name and address and sent her a bag of dog and cat teeth for a Christmas present. Of course, she thought the person she had sent her info to was a twenty-seven year old poet who had promised to send her a sonnet he'd composed just for her. He was seriously messed in the head and it pissed her off no end that she was wasting so much thinking time on him.
"He's just yanking our chain. Trying to piss on our good time, but I'll be damned if I let that prick mess with us," said Megan.
She sat there fuming for a few more seconds until her phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey Megan, it's me, Mike."
"Oh hey Mike, what's up?"
"Well, I know we all bought the package deal but Ellie, Elizabeth, and I have decided to carpool to Vegas and skip the whole flying thing. The package is still good whether we actually fly there or not. You want to come with us?"
"It's funny, I was thinking about driving to Vegas earlier today," replied Megan while she synchronized her Palm Pilot.
"Well, great minds think alike! I checked it out and it's less than an hour longer driving than it is flying."
"No way. How is that possible?"
"It's a little over four hours to drive there, but take into account the fact that you have to show up at the airport at least two and a half hours earlier than your flight. Also take into account that by driving you avoid the whole possibility of strip searches, unless of course, you'd like me to give you one."
"Hah! You wish jellyfish. Are you going to have room in your car for four people with luggage?"
"You bet, I have an Explorer and there's plenty of room. Come on, it'll be a lot more fun than waiting in line at the airport and getting called out for a body cavity search in the name of political correctness."
"You're right; I'll have more fun riding with you guys. Count me in," she said as she opened up her Outlook Express.
Mike was going on about living his dream of having three women at the same time when she saw five new emails for her. They were all from members of the Planet X Society and the contents of the subject lines for the emails made her stomach lurch.
"No fucking way," she muttered while she opened the first one.
"Is that no fucking way for the three of you getting naked or no fucking way that once you're naked you'll let me slather you up with baby oil and slide all over you?" asked Mike.
"No to both of those and the no fucking way is that thanks to that assclown Reaper69, people are backing out from going," sighed Megan.
"Oh geez, if those people are so lame that they are going to let one idiot prevent them from enjoying their lives then they don't deserve to go."
"That's the truth. But still, it's a real pisser."
"Shit, there were over seventy people that had said they were going and I knew even before shithead said he was going that probably at least a couple dozen of those were going to puss out."
"Actually we had just over eighty people say they were going but you can scratch off five of them now."
"Hey, not a problem. We're going to have a blast, don't you forget that."
"Yet again, you're right," said Megan.
She talked with Mike for a few minutes longer, ironing out the details for the road trip to Vegas. All of the crap with Reaper69 was giving her a headache and so she decided to get off her computer and go for a jog around the park. Being a personal trainer, Megan had to keep herself in great shape. Overweight fitness instructors usually failed to inspire confidence in their abilities or get repeat customers. From all of the jogging, kickboxing, and weight lifting she did every week, Megan had a rock hard body that was the envy of most women who saw her.
"If he does show up and tries to give me any grief I'll tattoo my name on his liver," she said while lacing up her running shoes.
She had to really focus hard on the good times she was going to have while pacing herself around the park jogging trail.
"All this effort to look this good; it should be a crime that I'm single," thought Megan as she started on her second lap.
By the time she finished her fifth lap of the mile and a half long trail, she was tired and sweating, but felt fantastic. After her run, she soaked in her Jacuzzi tub and started re-reading her worn copy of "The Kentucky Zombie Massacre", her favorite novel. She hadn't planned on reading it for the seventh time, but it took her mind off thinking about Reaper69. The engaging story drew her in and it took her several seconds to realize that someone had just knocked on her door. Drying off a bit and then wrapping the towel around her, she scampered to the door and peeked through the window beside it. Nobody was there.
"I know I heard a knock," she said to herself.
Against the wishes of the voice of reason in her head, she opened the door and found a small package sitting on her welcome mat. There was no address or delivery stamp on it.
"What the heck is this?" she said while moving her head around to see if she could get a look at who had dropped the package off.
She saw nobody and remembering that she was wearing only a towel; stepped back into her apartment and shut the door. She looked at the package for a minute until her curiosity got the better of her and she had to open it.
"Oh Jesus!" she let out and dropped the package when she saw the contents.
The small box hit the floor sideways, causing the freshly severed testicle to spill out, leaving small spots of blood on the ceramic tile of her foyer.
Other than the fake profiles that spammed the group with bogus posts about free Ipods, dating websites, and sexual performance enhancers, Reaper69 was the only real person to get banned. There had actually been a time when things had gotten so bad that she almost deleted the entire group just so she wouldn't have to deal with the bullshit he caused. While she tried to focus on how much fun she was going to have, her thoughts kept going back to Reaper69 and thinking about the time he had sent her a package in the mail. The guy had actually talked her into giving him her real name and address and sent her a bag of dog and cat teeth for a Christmas present. Of course, she thought the person she had sent her info to was a twenty-seven year old poet who had promised to send her a sonnet he'd composed just for her. He was seriously messed in the head and it pissed her off no end that she was wasting so much thinking time on him.
"He's just yanking our chain. Trying to piss on our good time, but I'll be damned if I let that prick mess with us," said Megan.
She sat there fuming for a few more seconds until her phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey Megan, it's me, Mike."
"Oh hey Mike, what's up?"
"Well, I know we all bought the package deal but Ellie, Elizabeth, and I have decided to carpool to Vegas and skip the whole flying thing. The package is still good whether we actually fly there or not. You want to come with us?"
"It's funny, I was thinking about driving to Vegas earlier today," replied Megan while she synchronized her Palm Pilot.
"Well, great minds think alike! I checked it out and it's less than an hour longer driving than it is flying."
"No way. How is that possible?"
"It's a little over four hours to drive there, but take into account the fact that you have to show up at the airport at least two and a half hours earlier than your flight. Also take into account that by driving you avoid the whole possibility of strip searches, unless of course, you'd like me to give you one."
"Hah! You wish jellyfish. Are you going to have room in your car for four people with luggage?"
"You bet, I have an Explorer and there's plenty of room. Come on, it'll be a lot more fun than waiting in line at the airport and getting called out for a body cavity search in the name of political correctness."
"You're right; I'll have more fun riding with you guys. Count me in," she said as she opened up her Outlook Express.
Mike was going on about living his dream of having three women at the same time when she saw five new emails for her. They were all from members of the Planet X Society and the contents of the subject lines for the emails made her stomach lurch.
"No fucking way," she muttered while she opened the first one.
"Is that no fucking way for the three of you getting naked or no fucking way that once you're naked you'll let me slather you up with baby oil and slide all over you?" asked Mike.
"No to both of those and the no fucking way is that thanks to that assclown Reaper69, people are backing out from going," sighed Megan.
"Oh geez, if those people are so lame that they are going to let one idiot prevent them from enjoying their lives then they don't deserve to go."
"That's the truth. But still, it's a real pisser."
"Shit, there were over seventy people that had said they were going and I knew even before shithead said he was going that probably at least a couple dozen of those were going to puss out."
"Actually we had just over eighty people say they were going but you can scratch off five of them now."
"Hey, not a problem. We're going to have a blast, don't you forget that."
"Yet again, you're right," said Megan.
She talked with Mike for a few minutes longer, ironing out the details for the road trip to Vegas. All of the crap with Reaper69 was giving her a headache and so she decided to get off her computer and go for a jog around the park. Being a personal trainer, Megan had to keep herself in great shape. Overweight fitness instructors usually failed to inspire confidence in their abilities or get repeat customers. From all of the jogging, kickboxing, and weight lifting she did every week, Megan had a rock hard body that was the envy of most women who saw her.
"If he does show up and tries to give me any grief I'll tattoo my name on his liver," she said while lacing up her running shoes.
She had to really focus hard on the good times she was going to have while pacing herself around the park jogging trail.
"All this effort to look this good; it should be a crime that I'm single," thought Megan as she started on her second lap.
By the time she finished her fifth lap of the mile and a half long trail, she was tired and sweating, but felt fantastic. After her run, she soaked in her Jacuzzi tub and started re-reading her worn copy of "The Kentucky Zombie Massacre", her favorite novel. She hadn't planned on reading it for the seventh time, but it took her mind off thinking about Reaper69. The engaging story drew her in and it took her several seconds to realize that someone had just knocked on her door. Drying off a bit and then wrapping the towel around her, she scampered to the door and peeked through the window beside it. Nobody was there.
"I know I heard a knock," she said to herself.
Against the wishes of the voice of reason in her head, she opened the door and found a small package sitting on her welcome mat. There was no address or delivery stamp on it.
"What the heck is this?" she said while moving her head around to see if she could get a look at who had dropped the package off.
She saw nobody and remembering that she was wearing only a towel; stepped back into her apartment and shut the door. She looked at the package for a minute until her curiosity got the better of her and she had to open it.
"Oh Jesus!" she let out and dropped the package when she saw the contents.
The small box hit the floor sideways, causing the freshly severed testicle to spill out, leaving small spots of blood on the ceramic tile of her foyer.