Trollspam

The troll leaned forward in his seat, bathed in the flashing light from the flat screen, which dwarfed the windows of his filthy basement apartment. “Get out of my face you fucking piece of nigger faggot shit!” The audio echoed back, a dull screeching heavily clipped and garbled from compression. The troll bristled. “You stupid assholes too poor to afford a god damn microphone?!” Talking shit was the troll’s real game, and getting under someone’s skin was the only way to score points.

The troll used to have a better screen name, [KKK]HateRaper69, but the moderators changed it permanently to Trollspam. Everywhere Trollspam went, the moderators were spammed down with complaints.

“Fuck you niggers! Fuck you all! I hope you all die and you all suck DICK at this stupid child’s game! Get a fuckin’ job!” Trollspam’s electronic vitriol streamed onto the emotionally disconnected masses.

A voice cried back above the din of the endless cyberbattle, where photorealistic soldiers died thousands of repeated deaths over the same small acre of land.

“Trollspam, you’re not allowed to do that, I’m reporting you.”

Trollspam’s eyes flashed, and his face flushed. Trollspam had a natural talent for finding the most fundamental weakness in anyone’s psyche with very scant information.

“You ugly little fat fuck, no one gives a fuck about you! No one will ever love you! What the fuck are you doing alive? Kill yourself!”

Trollspam’s target logged out, and trollspam grinned. A stupid fat little kid was rifling through his parent’s medicine cabinet and eating every pill he could find. He had shown the child the truth, imposed his boundless hatred, and the child would soon die. “All for the better,” thought Trollspam, “only n00bs kill themselves.”

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