We Are Going to Have Lots of Fun, You and I
“Oh my god. Marceline you have to get on Facebook right now!” Ellis Preston yelled into my ear through my phone.
“What the heck Ellis, it’s only,” I looked at my phone. Crap, it was already 1 PM, “What’s so important that you had to call me.”
“Marceline, someone made a fake account under your name. They’ve been posting nudes of you since this morning!”
“WHAT???!!!” I screeched into the phone before immediately kicking off my tangled sheets. I lunged at my laptop and ripped it open. I almost punched a hole through the wall of my apartment when I saw my Facebook page load.
“Ellis, I gotta go,” I said, hanging up on her and dialing Ash. The dial tone sounded several times before a slick voice answered.
“Hello, MarMar. How’s it going?”
“Ash, you piece of crap. I know what you did. You better take those pictures down,” I yelled into the phone.
“Or what? What are you gonna do about it Marmar? Call the cops?”
“Maybe I will!” I mashed the hangup button and dialed 911.
“Hello, this is 911. What’s your emergency?”
“I uh-,” I stuttered and cleared my throat, “My ex-boyfriend just posted a bunch of naked pictures of me on Facebook.”
“Alright, ma’am. I’m going to transfer your to the county police station.”
I waited several soul-rending moments on hold while some bland poppy trash played over the phone. Finally, a human voice crackled through.
“Hello, this is Detective Bana, how can I help you?”
“Yes, hi. I need to report my boyfriend Ash Bennington for posting inappropriate pictures of me online. He also posted my home address and telephone numbers along with my place of work.
A heavy sigh left the phone’s speaker, “These cases are extremely difficult to prosecute. There aren’t any specific laws against this sort of thing in our state. Even if we’re able to prove he did it, I’m not sure what he’ll end up being charged with. Are you sure you want to do this? Your best bet might just be to ignore him. Maybe call Facebook’s tech support to get them to remove the account or something.”
I hung up and slammed my phone into my desk. I took a deep breath and turned to face my computer. I cracked my fingers and got to work.
2 days later, the fake account was deleted and every trace of the pictures Ash posted had been scoured from the internet and the phones and computers of those who had downloaded them. Every single file and program on Ash’s phone and computer was corrupted, although several had been saved to an untraceable, remote device for future use. Ash’s name and picture appeared on several no-fly lists and sex offender registries. Whoever was assigned to removing these unauthorized entries was in for a fun time.
I was about to lay down for a well-deserved nap when someone knocked at my door. I went to go answer it and was met by a stern looking woman in a black suit with black sunglasses. Her wavy brown hair was tied up in a ponytail without a single sprig undone.
“Are you Marceline Abadeer?” asked a voice that commanded nothing short of the truth.
“Yes,” I said nervously, very aware of my uncombed mane of hair and my rarely washed sweatpants. One of my hands reached down to readjust my tank top to attempt to salvage my appearance.
“You’ve been quite a busy bee over the past couple of days. I have to say I’m impressed. Not many people could rack up enough felonies to guarantee them over 5 lifetimes of consecutive prison sentences within the span of 48 hours,” the woman said with a chuckle like little bells in the wind.
“Wait, what? Who are you and what do you want?” I fidgeted at my shirt, kneading the cheap cotton between my fingers.
“Wow, looks like kitty has some fight in her,” the woman took off her sunglasses and winked at me. She had clear blue eyes and with flecks of mischief and intrigue.
“You can call me Bonnibel. I’d like to hire you for a job. You and I are going to have lots of fun, Marceline Abadeer.”