Don't let it happen to you A phone call from his best friend Janice wakes him up in the morning.
“Hi Jan. What’s happening girl?”
“Ryan,” she says, “you’ve been fraped.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Fraped.”
“What’s that?”
“It means you’ve been raped on Facebook.”
“What?”
“Someone’s hacked your account.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?” Ryan reaches for his phone. He will be pulling a sickie today. And having a greasy fry up in bed to make him feel better. “Instead of talking in riddles of cyber lingo gibberish?”
“Pff! Is that the thanks I get for letting you know? I’m trying to do you a favour here. See ya later.”
“No, don’t, stay on the line. Apologies from me. Sorry. Please, elaborate.”
“Everyone’s talking about your statuses. It’s busier than just after X-Factor. Everyone’s commenting and taking the mickey. You better get on and try and sort it out.”
“What do you mean? Why in the name of Herbert Horatio Kitchener would someone want to hack my Facebook account? They can’t extort money from it or anything. I don’t understand.”
“They hack it to post comments. Usually, it’s just light jokes, but the worst case scenario can mean posting embarrassing lies about you in the name of public humiliation. Someone out there really has it in for you.”
“Why? How? What’s been said about me?”
“You better log on and have a look yourself.”
“Ah, hang on. There must be some mistake. It’s impossible. Nobody knows my password.”
“Someone does, Ryan, I’m telling you.”
“It must be one of the Facebook team then.”
“I don’t think so, Ryan. Not unless you’re on personal terms with someone from the Facebook team. Remember, perpetrators of frape, just like rape, are seldom strangers.”
“Okay, okay, I’m checking my phone now.” Ryan reads the following comments:
“Hi Jan. What’s happening girl?”
“Ryan,” she says, “you’ve been fraped.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Fraped.”
“What’s that?”
“It means you’ve been raped on Facebook.”
“What?”
“Someone’s hacked your account.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?” Ryan reaches for his phone. He will be pulling a sickie today. And having a greasy fry up in bed to make him feel better. “Instead of talking in riddles of cyber lingo gibberish?”
“Pff! Is that the thanks I get for letting you know? I’m trying to do you a favour here. See ya later.”
“No, don’t, stay on the line. Apologies from me. Sorry. Please, elaborate.”
“Everyone’s talking about your statuses. It’s busier than just after X-Factor. Everyone’s commenting and taking the mickey. You better get on and try and sort it out.”
“What do you mean? Why in the name of Herbert Horatio Kitchener would someone want to hack my Facebook account? They can’t extort money from it or anything. I don’t understand.”
“They hack it to post comments. Usually, it’s just light jokes, but the worst case scenario can mean posting embarrassing lies about you in the name of public humiliation. Someone out there really has it in for you.”
“Why? How? What’s been said about me?”
“You better log on and have a look yourself.”
“Ah, hang on. There must be some mistake. It’s impossible. Nobody knows my password.”
“Someone does, Ryan, I’m telling you.”
“It must be one of the Facebook team then.”
“I don’t think so, Ryan. Not unless you’re on personal terms with someone from the Facebook team. Remember, perpetrators of frape, just like rape, are seldom strangers.”
“Okay, okay, I’m checking my phone now.” Ryan reads the following comments:
I FANCY ME AUNTY.
IVE GOT A BIRTHMARK ON ME TESTICLES
I H8 PEOPLE WITH PETS
I JERK OFF IN A SOCK LIKE CLOCKWERK EVERY NIGHT 2 THE FANTASY CHANNEL FREEVIEW AT 11pm.
I LET ALL THIS SHIT FLY WHEN OTHERS R AFRAID 2. THATZ THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND U LOT. WHY DON’T ALL U SAD GIMPS GET A LIFE AND GET ON MYSPACE !!!
“Oh god...” mutters Ryan. “Oh no...”
“Are you alright?” Janice asks.
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Listen to me. They were all posted around 3 in the morning last night. Where were you? Did you leave your phone around anyone?”
“I didn’t even take my phone out with me. I left it at home. I was in The Establishment until about half 2. I’d been drinking all day. I couldn’t walk and needed helping into a cab”
“Okay. Who came back to yours with you?”
“Nobody. I was alone. I got in, started on the whiskey, and... and...”
“And what, Ryan? What happened then?”
Ryan hangs up and holds his head in his hands. “I don’t remember,” he tells himself.
Perpetrators are seldom strangers. In Ryan’s case, it is. It's the stranger who reveals himself whenever Ryan blacks out from excess alcohol intoxication, the stranger who assumes autopilot of his body while the consciousness takes a time out....
Know your limits !!!
“Are you alright?” Janice asks.
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Listen to me. They were all posted around 3 in the morning last night. Where were you? Did you leave your phone around anyone?”
“I didn’t even take my phone out with me. I left it at home. I was in The Establishment until about half 2. I’d been drinking all day. I couldn’t walk and needed helping into a cab”
“Okay. Who came back to yours with you?”
“Nobody. I was alone. I got in, started on the whiskey, and... and...”
“And what, Ryan? What happened then?”
Ryan hangs up and holds his head in his hands. “I don’t remember,” he tells himself.
Perpetrators are seldom strangers. In Ryan’s case, it is. It's the stranger who reveals himself whenever Ryan blacks out from excess alcohol intoxication, the stranger who assumes autopilot of his body while the consciousness takes a time out....
Know your limits !!!
© Frank 2010
Substance Scene
~
FRANK is in his mid-thirties. He slept rough as an addict on the streets of Manchester, shooting speedballs into his groin at every available opportunity, and once threw a bag of drugs out of a bus window to try to quit, only to get off at the next stop and go rooting for it. When he had money he enjoyed scoring in a taxi and going McDonalds drive-thru on the way back to his flat. He has since dried out in clinics and rehabs.
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