These Damned Internet Criminals

          So, yesterday I was on the Facebooks, and I received a friend request from someone I thought I was already friends with.  I’ll call him “Bill.”  Well, I know Bill.  We used to work together, and he’s a good guy.  I’m not sure why we weren’t friends anymore, but sure, I’ll be friends with Bill.  I accepted his request.

          A little while later Bill sent me a message.  “How’s it going?” or something like that.  “Not bad, Bill. Yourself?” I replied.  Now, I’m not sure what Bill said next because all of the messages have been “. . . temporarily removed because the sender's account requires verification,” but the tone of the message was odd.  It didn’t seem like Bill.  For starters, he said that he was feeling “blessed.”  Now, Bill may feel blessed from time to time, but he never struck me as the guy who goes around saying that he feels blessed.  He may have changed, though.  I haven’t seen him in quite a while.

          Then he asked me if I’d ever heard of some National Program something or other.  I said I’d never heard of it.  This didn’t really raise much of a suspicion because Bill is a federal employee.  We worked together at the Department of Veterans Affairs Regional Office in Augusta, Maine for a few years.  He also said that he received $50,000 through the program that day, and he gave me a number to text for information.  It was a great opportunity, he added.

          Okay, my suspicions were aroused, but I congratulated him.  Then I looked and saw that I now had two Bill friends with the same last name.  I warned Real Bill and the three other friends that fake Bill had become friends with, too.  I looked up the number, and Okcaller.com indicated that the number isn't safe.  I told him that, but I also decided to have some fun.  I told him that I was suspicious, but I might check it out. 

          I asked him why he had two Facebook accounts, and he said that the other one had been infected with a Trojan horse.   I’m pretty sure that’s not how Trojan Horses work, but I could be wrong.  I pressed him further.

          “What's the nickname you gave me in Philadelphia?” I asked.  Bill and I had taught two parts of a VA new bureaucrat training at the VA Regional Office in Philadelphia.  We overlapped a week or so, and before I got there, he had given everyone a nickname.  He told everyone that I was “Uncle Ted.” 

          “Tedwardicio,” Fake Bill replied.  That’s on my public profile, and it was wrong.  My parents gave me that nickname, not Bill.  So, I was absolutely, 100% sure that this wasn’t Real Bill.  He said a few more things about how blessed he was and about how I could get $50,000 if I texted that bullshit number.  I wasn’t about to deal with this crap.

          “But, of course, Bill,” I said.  I decided to keep having fun with him.  He said to make sure I followed up to get my $50,000, but I went in a new direction.

          “Do you remember the night we shared at the hotel?” I asked him.  Bill and I never shared a night at the hotel.  “I'll never forget it. I miss you so much. . .”  He said that he remembered, so I continued, “Your strong hands and gentle touch.  The way you always know the right thing to say. I wish we could be together again. . . But you needed someone younger.  Look, I'm glad you've made some money, and thank you for sharing your news with me. I just want to know if you're happy with Trevor.”  Now, I’ve never delved into Real Bill’s personal life, but I’m pretty sure that—along with never having had a relationship with me—he never left me for a relationship with any Trevor.

          Fake Bill said that we could still be together.  Whoa. . . I didn’t want to take it that far, so I had to go into another new direction, “After you sucked Mike's cock at the office?  Mike?  Seriously!  I've done a lot of work on myself, and I'm feeling good about me?  I do not need you back.  I miss you, yes.  But I must also let you go. . .” I can only speculate about Bill and Mike at the office.  Any part of this that’s true is merely a coincidence.  I made it up.  Well, except for missing Bill.  He was a cool guy to work with.

          Fake Bill was off the hook for the relationship, but I wasn’t finished.  “Besides, you know how I feel about your gender reassignment surgery.  If you and Trevor want to be lesbians, that's your business.  By the way, your profile picture is totally butch.”  Again, I don’t know what’s been going on with Bill.  He probably isn’t a transgendered lesbian.  I made this stuff up.  If he is, then bless him.  Bill is a good friend.  Period.

          “Okay, goodbye then,” Fake Bill said.

          “Have a good life, Bill,” I said.  “Have a good life.”  And not wanting to leave things on a warm note, I added, “If this is some kind of scam, I'm going to track you down, sew your penis back on you, and then rip it off and shove it down your throat.”

          I may have crossed the line with that one, but in all honesty, I’m neither vengeful nor violent.  It is some kind of scam, and Fake Bill has no reason to fear me tracking him down, reattaching his penis, and then ripping it off again.  I’m just not that guy.  What I'm thinking about doing is finding the number in my Google search history and then sending them a picture of my junk.

          I also may have a bunch of bullshit-ass viruses on my phone and computer now.  Time to scan.