"Oh ****," John thought to himself. "How the f*ck am I going to pay the rent.

 

No job, no life, John watches his 2001 rerun soccer matches on a stolen cable feed while simultaneously searching the internet for his next girlfriend - on a computer he forcefully "borrowed" from the last one. Somehow, he'll call it fate, John stumbles upon a web site offering $300 bucks to win a story contest.

 

"Heck, my rent's only $275 - that's give me enough for some malt liquor! Yeah!"

 

John knows he can't write, but all he needs is a paragraph. And the rules are so loose - it's less organized than a Democratic caucus! After a little calculating, he figures the way he'll play it - he won't vote until the last moments of the contest. He only needs one vote really, one five star vote to beat the rest! And he could win a free month of leisure!

 

John has been streaming the British show "Hustle" on Tudou while web surfing, and it's been getting to his head. Major playa. Con-artist extraordinaire. This scam's too easy!

 

He watches like a hawk. It's February 20th and he's scoping out anyone who starts getting too high in the ranking. He's got 20 different email logins -so he's not caught- and anytime someone gets ahead, by even a point, he cuts them down to size. Gives them one star and screws up their ranking. "Who's the superdelegate now - motha-fugga!" he yells to no one.

 

Time is clicking, there's just thirty more minutes left and John simply needs a few five star rankings for himself to guarantee a win! Patience is the key. But while he's determidly waiting, John hears a noise outside that he tries to ignore. That he does ignore. But when he's sure it's that of a car pulling up he forces himself off the sofa, scratches his arse, and peaks through the dusty curtains. "Damn, it's Tina" he mutters.

 

His ex-girlfriend, scantily clad, is outside next to an old blue mustang. Her arms crossed, her eyes squinting from the sun, but she's got a hint of a smile. Hmm, John thinks to himself...maybe she's horny.

 

Before he realizes what's going on, the front door gets kicked in and John is knocked to the ground; so hard in fact, he loses the cap off his molar. Dizzy and in shock, he watches as this huge brute with a skin head pulls out the plug of the laptop and hands the machine over to Tina who coo's, "Oh Leroy, you're the greatest!" She then tosses her hair back and laughs, her own meth rotting teeth showing, "F*ck you, John - seeya!"

 

By the time John was able to log back on at the local library the contest was over. "Oh, man!" Someone had knocked his points down in the last minute; he only got second place! "Oh well, $150 for a paragraph ain't too bad." He debates for a minute: rent or dentist. Like a game he's playing with himself, he pretends it's a close call on what he will spend the winnings on...but ultimately, it's not close at all.

 

Just a half block walk down the street, John sighs as he saddles up to the grimy bar and yells to the old slouching bartender, "Hey Henry, I scored, keep 'em comin!"