This is my story.
September 19, 2016
I was outside, smoking a cigarette.
I hated my life then. More than I do now.
I'm a loner, by choice. Always have been, always will be. I prefer to sit back and watch the show rather than join in on all of the dullness and predictable behavioral patterns. If I had a remote, I'd attempt to change the channel when it comes to these people, but I'll most likely find more of the same shit, so there's no point in wasting good batteries.
Inside, my mind is a circus at the carnival in the middle of a war-zone during a hockey game and our team just scored while I'm going down a waterslide under the fireworks on Christmas morning as a little boy. It's fun, but in normal social situations, people don't have time for my shit. Too busy taking life seriously, chattering about the entertainment they enjoy rather than being entertaining, or at least interesting.
So I finished my cigarette,
and came back inside because those people suck.
I was a content consumer then. What choice did I have, and who isn't?
So now it's my turn to bore you to death with words about the entertainment my brain consumed that day.
Isn't this exciting!
Youtube was doing it's thing the entire time I was away. Auto-play was engaged; one random video after another.
I entered the room and heard the voices inside my laptop saying, "A new blogging platform that pays writers."
That was enough. I was intrigued.
The video wasn't about Steemit. It wasn't an advertisement. It wasn't a video I would have selected to watch had I made the choice. Just two Americans talking about random things like their version of freedom and a few other topics I found to be dull and repetitive.
The link to Steemit was in the description. I bookmarked the video so I could click later, when I had a moment.
I didn't look at any of the content here upon arrival.
I went straight for the sign up button.
It was now September 20, 2016. My Steemit account was ready to roll.
I'd look around, I'd see people complaining about how difficult things were. I didn't know what something like Markdown was until I saw someone complaining about the fact they needed to know things like that in order to be able to succeed here. So I quickly googled 'markdown', found a cheat sheet, and spent the next five minutes learning how simple Markdown is.
The blog took awhile to shape up and master. I spent nearly one month going unnoticed, though a few people did trickle in to see what I was up to. I think I made about eighteen cents in that time. That was fine though, because I was still learning. Everyone knows one can't make money without an education.
I published a few successful posts, finally, over the span of the next month of applying my new skills. It wasn't enough though. I was hungry. I wanted more. I knew I was worth it.
I saw the others. The trending page was full of unique and impressive individuals. I'm not kidding you either. We had novel chapters, foodie blogs, travel blogs, artwork; you name it, it was there. Something for everyone. I wanted to be there. I wanted to be like them, by being me.
Or so I thought.
It wasn't until I started to kill people when things really started to take off.
One by one I'd just take them out. It was easy. Many were amateurs. They were encouraged to be genuine, open, and honest. It was easy to find them. They'd announce everything. Where they've been, what they're up to, and where they're going.
Like shooting fish in a barrel.
I remember the first time I filled my gas tank with my earnings from pretending to be a warm, fuzzy, good guy blogger. I then drove the van to the store. Tried to explain Steemit to the cashier as she bagged up my supplies:
- Rubber mallet (less mess)
- Hornet killer spray (sprays far, burns eyes)
- Boxing gloves
- Shake N' Bake
- Coffee filters
- Filleting knife
- Condoms (easier than wrapping their heads in plastic wrap, lube to the inside)
- A toy Brontosaurus action figure
- Snoop Dogg CD
- Gas can
- Handsaw (24 inch blade)
- Popsicle sticks
- An illustrated book about birds
- Garbage bags
- 200 rearview mirror air fresheners (the tree ones)
The conversation about Steemit was enough to confuse her and worked as a distraction. It's risky making purchases like that when anybody with a brain should be able to tie it all together and know a few murders are about to go down; but like I said earlier, people are predictable. Misdirection is a cinch.
I slit her throat anyway though.
I clawed my way up the rankings.
One blogger at a time.
They look bigger in their pictures.
It was incredible though. I was gaining popularity as I dropped them for kicks.
Sit, wait, watch; they'd login, drop a comment, I'd pounce. Do the deed, send a few transfers my way. Easy fame and fortune. While this was all happening, the value of our tokens was dropping. One day they were blogging about how great the place is; the next, gone. People thought they quit and would start rumors about how the dead were just doing it all for the money. I didn't even have to clean up. Those gossipers were doing it for me. Life was perfect.
Then I got sloppy.
I was gone.
Transferring a few tokens around in prison was easy.
It was costly, but I had someone on the inside tamper with evidence. They had no choice but to let me out before the trial.
Everyone was happy to have me back here. That was nice of you.
The thing is: I'm a bit disappointed in my progress lately. I haven't been trending. I hope I don't have to go back to the store; if you know what I mean.