Don't try this at home, especially if you value your peers. First piece I EVER wrote.
|The idea within this story is do-able. My friends and I have done it, on a smaller scale of course, but I'm not giving out instructions on how to go about doing it. If any of you do decide to re-enact the idea I have a word of advice.
Make sure they can't trace the email address back to you.
Here are some links in case you're interested. http://www.LoveCalculator.com
Don't take this too seriously, I'm not a mean spirited person and neither is anyone else I know. (Okay maybe I know 1 or 2 REALLY bad people, but that's it).
"This is the best idea ever". Gushed Greg gleefully as he jostled with excitement on the edge of my bed. His best friend George sat farther back, leaning against the wall, engrossed in a Simpson’s comic.
Earlier I had just returned from College and planned to remove every ounce of information I'd gleaned that day by settling into my weekly ritualistic relaxation of Guitar Hero 2. (I'm determined to complete 'Sweet Child of Mine' on the Extreme difficulty, even if it means losing the feeling in my fingers).
Managing to complete only 76% of the set, yet feeling a great deal less stressed I decided to have one more go at the song 'Mother'. Suddenly there came a knocking from downstairs, unwilling to break my concentration, I called one of my brothers to open the door and let two of my dearest friends in.
They gambolled upstairs, sauntered into my bedroom and made themselves completely at home on my bed. (Indeed they often referred to my house as their 'second home').
For a moment there was silence, save for the consistent screeches of me butchering 'Mother', (the song, not my actual Mother) The afternoon was unusually hot for this time of year, the glaring sun shone through the spotless window, casting overbearing glimmers of red and yellow light into my spring-clean room. Thus forcing me to play the guitar through squinted eyelids at the display on screen.
Greg held out his hand, shadowing the rays of sunshine from my eyes. Thinking he was helping me I thanked him, before he pulled his hand away, causing me to flinch as the beams of bright red light obscured my vision. Again Greg put his hand out, then pulled it away, over and over. laughing and ignoring my constant death threats aimed at him to stop. I ended up failing the musical piece before it was over, and with dagger eyes I thwacked Greg in the kneecap with the end of the guitar.
"God, it was so worth it". Greg chuckled wickedly, clutching his sore knee.
"Man, why can't I ever beat this thing?". I asked to no-one in particular. Looking out into the fresh afternoon, I spied a couple walking side by side down the square outside..
"I can't play it either, buttons are too small". George chipped in, without looking up from his book.
Greg laughed. "That's because you've got flabby fingers".
Without looking up George raised his hand and stuck his fingers up at Greg, all in good nature of course.
Both of them were still wearing their college jackets, Greg has sleek black hair and probably the cheekiest face you'll ever likely to see. George meanwhile has light brown scruffy hair, wears round glasses and is just slightly (only slightly) overweight.
I looked to Greg, who just smiled as if knowing something I didn't.
"What is it?. I just know there's something you're dying to tell me". I sighed, guitar still in my lap as I did so.
Greg was bubbling with enthusiasm. "This is the best idea ever". he bristled.
A mixture of dread and joy came over me, joy: that they thought to involve me first, dread: because these two could conceive some of the most juvenile ideas the world had ever seen, and they usually needed a fall guy.
"What is it?". I asked, treading carefully. Involuntarily strumming the guitar, a sure sign of my insecurity to the situation I'd now found myself in.
Greg went straight into entrepreneur mode readying to sell the idea to me.
"Y'know how Valentines day is coming up right?", Greg asked turning serious.
Instantly my stomach knotted.
"Uh huh". I responded, chin in hand, another sign of my reluctance.
"Well, everyone is going to become more aware of the love interests, right". Greg asked, I nodded slowly, the questions I had floating around my mind were tantalising, and Greg just kept reeling me in.
"George's sister told him about a website that asks you a series of questions to find out if you're compatible with the person you have a crush on." Greg furrowed his brow " What's it called again?". He asked to George.
George looked up trying to remember. "Erm.. Love calculator, I think?".
Greg clicked his fingers "yeah, it's something like that, anyway", he continued.
"When you complete the questionnaire it gives you a percentage value to determine if you and you're crush are made for each other. You follow me".
I nodded, but shrugged my shoulders, had they mounted all this tension just to inform me about a quiz?.
"So there's a quiz that calculates peoples love chances, big deal? They're never accurate". I retorted.
Greg held up his index fingers as if to say 'Oh contraire', he hadn't finished.
"That's exactly what we thought, but then we came up with this amazing idea. What if someone created a love test quiz and sent it out to the people they know?". Greg asked expectantly, his vivid mind cheered him on, telling him it was the greatest plan he'd come up with yet.
"And what would be the point in that?". I asked, interests aroused.
Greg stood, pacing to and fro, visualising the idea in his mind's eye. Using dramatic hand gestures he stared confidently into the future and savoured the view.
"We create a romance quiz, then we email it to as many people we know. We ask them to send it to their mates, and when they click on the hyperlink to calculate their percentage, we get sent a copy of their answers". Greg revealed.
I sat staring up at Greg disbelievingly, he couldn't be suggesting what I think he was, surely.
"But... Why?". I asked.
"Think about the possibilities, the opportunities this could present. We could know who people fancy and exploit it for our own use". Greg urged.
My mouth was agape, all I could think of was how I would feel if it were me having this sick joke being played on. It would be unbearable.
Yet the evil part of me liked being the deceiver and the controller. For a moment there was a buzz of jubilance at the thought of having such a wealth of knowledge, which made me angry at myself.
"What... What use's, to me it just sounds like you're going to screw with people's feelings". I snapped.
Greg shook his head, sitting back on my bed. He thought I hadn't understood.
"No, no, think about it. We could find out who likes who and get them together, we could charge people to see others results, we could fabricate answers to people who hurt our friends. Just imagine what some people might even say about you". Greg finished, looking at me furtively. Playing to my insecurities.
I gave him a sour look. "Pfft, I seriously doubt you'd ever want to help people get together".
I scoffed at the premise but couldn't deny the fact that it was intriguing. Yes it could go tits up, but the potential for decency was high, and there were some fellow students I wouldn't mind seeing answers on. Nor would I mind seeing what some said about me. (if they said anything at all)
Then I shook my head, telling myself 'no, it's wrong',. If only it wasn't for the temptation, and damn the temptation was so strong
Greg slid his hands into his pocket, relaxing a little. Knowing he'd caught me.
"Look, it's just for fun, no-one will get hurt... too seriously." he chuckled. "C'mon, it'll be awesome." Greg enthused.
I still had reservations, it could, if done correctly, be harmless. I just didn't know.
"Think of the powah!". Said George, clenching his fist.
Laughing nervously, I reasoned a very decisive 'why not', then nodded my acceptance to Greg.
"So you're in". Greg asked, face half cracking into a smile.
"Yeah, but this better be done tastefully, if we offend anyone we make it right ". I demanded.
He grinned and patted me on the shoulder.
"Trust me, this'll be something to remember". Smirked Greg, I knew he honestly believed that, and I could already see his mind working out all the intricate details well in advance.
The mood swiftly transformed back to some form of normality.
"Me versus you, C'mon your rubbish at this game anyways". Quipped Greg, motioning towards the game.
I groaned and handed him the other guitar, he was far better at this game than most. We faced each other on my favourite song from the list, Sweet Child of Mine.
Final scores. Greg achieved 98,567, I only managed a paltry 39,850.
The slimy little...
"There we go". Proclaimed Greg to my bitter annoyance.
George asked for a drink, telling him it was fine he left Greg and me alone.
"Now c'mon Greg, why do you really want to do this, honestly?". I asked.
His face turned puce red, he chuckled realising he'd given away another reason.
Again my mouth was hanging open, slowly creasing into an evil smile.
"You fancy someone, don't you?". I asked, handing the embarrassment over to him.
After a sheepish giggle and his face bright red, he nodded.
"Who is it, someone from college?". I asked.
Greg cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered.
"It's Siobhan". he revealed, bouncing on the bed.
My brow creased, 'Siobhan?'. But she was George’s sister?. He'd known her for years, and only now is he telling me he has a thing for her!.
I wonder how George will take it?
As if on cue, George came into my room holding a whole tray of refreshments, and a packet of chocolate-chip cookies I didn't remember telling him he could have.
We took the drinks George had prepared. He quickly slumped back onto the bed, turning back to his comic with snacks in hand.
I looked towards Greg, a sly smile slid onto his face as he sipped the cool juice.
The following days were indeed going to be something to remember.