>>24631053
My pants are torn, from taint to cheek. Been that way all day. If I was wearing normal underwear it wouldnt have been an issue. Blue or black would have blended in. But my underwear was not normal. It is abnormal. Meme underwear. Garrish meme underwear, bright pink and blue, featuring patrick from spongebob making a weird face. And I assume my coworkers saw it.

I worry I'm going to hate my book's fanbase. That means I have a fanbase at all, which would be life changing, but goddamn if I cant see into the cursed crystal ball about it.

Picture this, I'm sitting at some con wearing a Legend of the Overfiend shirt, schmoozing with whoever I'm lucky enough to lure to my booth with a shitload of free stickers, snacks, and pens. Then it happens; they arrive. Lumbering and corpulent, hideous not by genetics alone but by sumblimating monsterous reality, they immediately let out an audiable breathy shriek. I need to remain composed but there is no way to resist a psychic assualt of that magnitude. They rush over, destroying all the good will I cultivated in a blur of neon gyrations and body odor, while I resign myself to the invitable deluge.

Memes. So many fucking memes. I love memes, but these arent the organic kind, they're the manufactured kind that completely ignore the subtext of my fucking book, but engage in the gawdy surface aesthetics. Quotable moments spammed rapid fire. Some kind of cursed reference to a pop culture thing that horrifies me when I research it. Asking me what I was thinking when I wrote it. I've prepared for this. Worst of all? They want a picture and a hug. Not the woman, as awful as she may be, the a man. A smelly bearded effeminate man wearing his pin-based ideology in lieu of a personality, chittering like a cenobite. As we wraps his heavy but paradoxically weak grip around me and pulls me close, I can smell piss and old cum. I hate pictures, I hate this moment, and I hate this man, but I must smile. And so I do, with lifeless eyes and a thousand yard stare.

And then I roast them. I write something new and fucking roast them. Get it published, directly reference what happen, and then suddenly my inbox errupts. They loved it. They post it on reddit. They fucking loved it. There is no winning here.