Nicole walked through the doorway to the classroom at 8:37 AM. This by most accounts, was remarkably on time for her. The second she stepped over the precipice into the room, she could feel her ears being smothered by Mr. Burleday's droning voice, no doubt sounding off about his dead w-
"WHICH IS THE EXACT SITUATION ME AND MY WIFE FOUND OURSELVES IN BEFORE SHE KILLED HERSEL- hello Nicole, thank you for deciding to join us this morning. We were just discussing the current FINANCIAL HOUSING CRISIS as part of this state-mandated financial literacy class, and I was covering how this precipitous economic downturn was just one of the wayward events in my marriage that led my wife to take her own life by hanging herself from the chandelier in our foyer. Care to explain your lack of punctuality today, Nicole?"
Nicole had honestly intended to try to keep things subdued today "Uhhhh… I was… accosted by a homeless guy on my way to school. Yeah, he walked right up to me doing a jerk off motion, tried to grab my ass and everything… It was soooo traumatizing. I had to stand in the hallway for about 35 minutes to repress it so I could continue on despite how terrifying it all was." Sure, that sounded good enough, at least for a pushover like Mr. Burleday.
"Even if I did believe this tall tale of yours Nicole, I would hardly place the blame on that unfortunate, housing-challenged individual."
Okay, sure, it was a load of shit, but the least he could have done was respected Nicole's earnest attempt at a bullshit excuse that was tenuously tied into what he had already been yammering on about. Not just any truant could come up with that on the fly. Any quarter Nicole was gonna give him was all but gone now.
"You may enjoy saying the same shit over and over again about how your wife, seemingly justifiably, offed herself, but I don't, and I don't care about any of this."
"If you can't show up when you're supposed to, and can't be bothered to prepare a reason for it, make yourself useful and go grab the handout materials I left on the copier in the computer lab!"
"Really, and you're getting on my ass about being prepared?" Nicole shot back. "But whatever, I'll take any reason I can to get away from this depressive episode you were going to try to pass off as a lesson plan."
With that parting shot, Nicole headed down the hall to get to the computer lab. She arrived just a few moments later, surprisingly without running into any distracting events. It was honestly pretty refreshing for her to just go somewhere without any annoying shit happening, even if it was just a trip down the hall.
This feeling didn't last long, as after snagging the pile of printouts that were carelessly left in the copier, Nicole couldn't help but notice an obnoxious sound coming from the corner of what she thought was an empty lab.
She looked over and realized Jeffrey was awkwardly hunched over at a computer in the far corner of the room. It made sense she didn't notice him at first, since he kind of barely registered as a person in her mind. Exhibiting what seemed like some kind of weird, reptilian sixth sense, Jeffery snapped his head as if he could feel that there was a fertile human female looking at him.
"Oh… uhhh, hey Nicole." Jeffrey's frail voice wavered when uttering even the most basic social pleasantries. "What are you doing in the lab, nobody is supposed to be in here right now."
"Yeah no shit, which only makes it even weirder that you're in here gawking at whatever the fuck on a school computer" Nicole shot back.
"Oh, uh, I just came in here to watch YouTube videos during my study hall… do you want to see what I'm watching?" Jeffrey struggled to get his meek voice to be heard over that coming from the computer.
"Normally I want to know as little as possible about what you do while sitting in front of a computer Jeffery, but fuck it, my morbid curiosity can't be helped at this point."
Nicole moved in as closely as she could while still maintaining at least an arms length from Jeffery. "Okay, I have literally no idea what I'm looking at, it's just a blurry video of something and someone's talking."
"It's called a let's play," Jeffery explained. "This guy records himself playing a game, then he adds commentary over it."
With context, Nicole could make out it was in fact a blurry video from a camera pointed at a TV. In the game some character that looked like a knight. Almost immediately after, the knight fell, and the words "YOU DIED" filled up the screen. The person doing the voiceover was yelling obnoxiously.
"Wait, so you watch someone else play a video game? Why the hell would you do that? Ohhhh… is this so that you have two free hands when you're 'playing' Jak and Daxter 2?" Nicole asked, her questions dripping with incredulity.
"UGH NO THIS ISN'T LIKE THAT!" Jeffery seemed to realize his voice was raised and immediately receded to his typical mawkish demeanor. "And this isn't Jak and Daxter, it's Demon's Souls, and it's -"
"Spare me the fuckin' details Jeffery" Nicole interrupted. "I can pretend to understand a weirdo like you watching some twenty-something play video games as like a crystal ball preview of your pathetic life ten years from now, but why the fuck would someone upload this in the first place?"
"Oh, there's a growing community for let's players all over YouTube. Some people can even get a contract with YouTube and earn money from the ads that run on the videos. Look, this video has over 20,000 views. This game is really challenging, so people like to watch even though the player mostly just complains about the game the whole time…" Jeffery trailed off.
"Sorry, I only let you prattle on that long because I genuinely could not believe what you were saying - people get PAID to make this shit? And they're not even good at it?" Nicole asked, her eyes widening.
"I guess so, seems like decent money too- " Jeff tried to answer her questions, but was interrupted by Nicole thrusting the stack of papers onto his lap.
"Take these" she said, storming off determinedly.
Jeffery looked at the papers. He raised an eyebrow, then he blushed, bringing them in close to his chest. "Why did she have all these revealing photos of Jecka?" he asked himself.
Nicole burst into her house, making a beeline for her brother's upstairs bedroom. Despite being 26 and unemployed, he actually wasn't there. He must have been out grooming a child in-person for once. Doing her best to ignore the questionably aged girl being penetrated on the desktop background of her brother's PC, she started digging through all his game shit. She didn't really know what she was looking for but eventually came out with a PlayStation 3 and some game called Dead Space. It looked stupid as fuck to Nicole, but what the hell did she know about any of this anyway? She also conveniently came across a digital camera. Her curiosity got the better of her again, and she took a look at the saved recordings. Big mistake. In an attempt to cleanse her mind, she diligently put herself to work…
A few weeks later, at the mall, Nicole stumbled into Jecka in the parking lot.
"Oh my god, NICOLE, where the fuck have you been? You haven't been to school in like 3 weeks! There's been this whole thing about Burleday taking creep shots of me, and-"
Nicole was shocked by the sudden encounter. Her hands were full and she didn't know what to say.
"Uhh… what's all that stuff you got?" Jecka asked, gesturing at the assortment of clothes, jewelry, CDs, and even some gaming equipment that made up the heaping pile obscuring Nicole.
"Oh ya know, just out, picking up some essentials…" Nicole trailed off.
"You're totally stealing that shit, aren't you?" Jecka replied with no hesitation.
"Fuck, yes" Nicole admitted. "But I swear I actually bought all this stuff before, I honestly just miss the thrill of stealing shit, okay?"
"What the hell are you talking about Nicole? Just explain where the hell you've been!"
"Okay, fine." Nicole abruptly dropped all the shit she was holding, where it spread all over the floor. She pulled Jecka away to an empty aisle.
Nicole tried her best to outline the situation succinctly. "So it turns out anything pathetic dudes can do on the internet for money, you can actually make WAY more money just doing it as a white woman. It's like being a unicorn! I just shit out these videos of me talking over video games and telling people to keep clicking on the ads that pop up. I did the math and I'm making over six figures… it's more money than I know what to do with."
Jecka's face held an exasperated expression, before shouting "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. NOT ONLY DO I LOSE MY BET THAT YOU DROPPED OUT TO BE A CAMWHORE, YOU ACTUALLY FOUND SOMETHING EVEN MORE PATHETIC. Even if I pretend to believe this is legit, do you really think this is gonna last? What's your plan when this bubble bursts?"
"Yeah, you're probably right," Nicole admitted. "But all this money's really got my blinders on, I'm just gonna ride it out. Also, fuck you, you're wasting your money betting if I'm a camwhore? Who do I look like, Emily? I have way too much self-respect. Anyway, I've gotta go, I need to get to GameStop to get in my pre-order of Uncharted 2, I can't afford to miss covering that on launch day…"
Nicole stormed off leaving Jecka only slightly less confused than she had been before running into her.
Ten years later
Nicole was sitting in a quiet office room, waiting nervously. She found herself deep in thought.
I think back on that last encounter I had with Jecka those years ago. Despite being a bubble-headed blonde bimbo, she had a point. Back then, here was a niche internet vacuum to be filled, and even though I didn't give a fuck about any of it, I sure filled it. I reaped the rewards as long as I could, but just like anything else on the internet, people eventually moved on. That and there's a surprising amount of drama in creative internet circles. I've lashed out, said words that can't be said, I even left my camera on and masturbated on stream that one time. I've clung to it as long as I can and then some. Sure, I have a few longtime whales keeping me afloat, but it's not worth the shame of putting myself out there every day, begging for every donation, Twitch bit, Youtube SuperCheer, and whatever the fuck else I can do to grift my pathetic followers out of their social security checks every month. Now here I am, desperately hoping that this interviewer is gullible enough to think that "10+ years of curated media and content creation" is an impressive bullet point on a resume without asking for too many specifics. I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do if this one doesn't pan out. Fuck me, I really could use a financial literacy class right now.
