Salty Rants

The Newly Discovered Virus: Read Requesters

Warning: Extra-salty rant. If you suffer from high-blood pressure, I advise you against reading this. 

Once I finish reading to the end of the page, I lick my thumb and turn it. My eyes never leave the book, not even when I reach out and grab my vanilla milkshake from the table. After my tongue battles the pesky straw for a couple of seconds, my lips manage to snag it into place. I take a long sip—inhaling so much that my lungs resemble crumpled soda cans—and allow the thick, milky liquid to slide down my throat, leaving behind a trail of refreshing glory.

Through my peripheral vision, I watch you slide in the seat across from me, a book in your hand as well. What the fuck does this guy want, I think bitterly. Here I was, enjoying my book involving an alpha mate and drag queens, without a care in the world. You just had to come and ruin it. The cacophony of sound in the fast-food joint doesn't bother me one bit—I come here so often the place is practically my second home—just your presence, which is annoying and most definitely unwanted.

You say something—my eyes focus on "and he pulled out his whip from his bag, ready to whip this bad dog into a good dog" but also on what you're mouthing. Still, I ignore you. You're nothing but an annoying pest anyway, a fly I want to crush with a swatter.

You reach out and touch my forearm—my gaze immediately snaps to it. How dare you touch me with your poop-encrusted hand? I look up with the most hate-filled glare I can muster, which doesn't waver even when you smile like an idiot.

"What," I say, hostility rolling off me in waves.

"Hi,"—you swallow and give me an awkward wave—"I saw you reading Queens and Wolverine, and I just had to come over and let you know that I love that book too!"

I stare at you as if you had just grown a second head. If you're up there, ethereal being, please kill me.

"And? What do you want?"

You chuckle and lift your book, revealing the front cover. It reads: Kings and Dracula.

No. Fucking. Way. He wants me to read his book.

"I'm a new author, and I was wondering whether you'd like to read my fan fiction?"

Let's pause right there.

Do you realise how stupid these people sound in real life?

Now this scenario could end in one of two ways:

a) I rip out a page from my book, write my number on it, and slide it over whilst simultaneously taking his book with a sweet smile on my face. "Of course, I'll read it!" I say, knowing damn well that I will waste hours of my life on a piece of literal shit.

b) I pick up my milkshake and toss at you—I cackle as I watch you cry like a little bitch, both your clothes and fanfic dripping with a drink made using the fat from beaver testicles.

On the Internet, it's very easy to pester people to read your book. It's not that they can just punch you in the face for bothering them, or raise their middle finger at you. All you have to do is write a shitty generic note and mass-message the Wattpad public, hoping to reel in a poor sucker, that, out of pity and nothing else, will read your book.

I don't give a single shit about whether you're the next J.K Rowling or a twelve-year-old learning how to write. Don't hassle me with your reading requests, especially when it says clearly on my profile that I don't do read 4 read.

But you know, some people aren't even decent enough to write you a message asking you to read their work. Like viruses, these people are continuously evolving. Here are a few ways they try to make you go blind with their crappy writing: