Shrekting

The phone kept buzzing and buzzing. The incessant buzzing of the phone on any surface, anywhere you put it. Eventually, he had to turn off all notifications, but people would call, too. They'd be from the news, or some blog, tabloid, forum, Facebook groups as well. People asking about a comment about the whole fiasco. He shook his head as he turned off the phone in disbelief. Wearing a hat and sunglasses he hoped no one would recognize him from the photos on his social media. Fifteen minutes of fame they call it, right? He figured he would be fine in due time, he just had to wait out the storm. The waiter brought him his coffee and cake and as she walked away he couldn't help but notice her slightly squint her eyes, as both their eyes met. As if she had already recognized him but could not pinpoint where. It was a split second but enough for him to notice before she flicked her head away and swooped in on another table to take something away that they had finished prior.

He sipped on his coffee and then realized he had forgotten to put in some sugar. He rips open the small sugar satchel only to have it's content strewn across the coffee and the table. Little beads of brown cubes spread out and luckily for him, most of them into his cup. He sighed as he scooped the sugar on the table into a neat pile and then onto his hand to pour it into the coffee. He felt as if all the eyes in the room were upon him. Everyone staring at him, their eyes boring into his skin. He stirred the cup with his spoon and every time the spoon would hit the side of the cup he felt his heart jolt. It was too loud! A thunderous sound and a ludicrous display of his anxiety. Everyone must surely know what he had said.

"Drivel! What are you talking about!" One comment said.

"I can't believe you'd have this opinion in this day and age. Incredible. You are a hack!" Another went on.

One that stung most peculiarly was "u fukin sukkk!!!" and it annoyed him that it did sting more than the others.

It was more direct. He fidgeted at his chair and rearranged his position at the table. He realized that the waitress forgot a fork. He raised his arm to signal to the waitress but his finger was outstretched as it already was going up. Lamentably, the finger then caught on the saucer that then lifted the cup. In an effort within milliseconds to stop the saucer, he lifted his other hand to catch it. It made sense in his mind at that split second - instinct. However, his instinct's were sublime, something that decades on the internet will do to you, he presumed at that same instant as the cup flung itself upward, propelling the espresso out of it's vessel. He tried to grab it with his other hand that initially initiated this horrendous series of events but to no avail. Instead opening his fingers to catch the cup his hand seems to jerk too quickly, in these moments that seem like eternity he regrettably puts too much power into the attempt to grab the cup and launches it to his left. It seems to go in slow-motion as his cup sends the coffee spiraling upward in an arc, the cup itself hurtling toward the ground as his hands hover above the table in as much disbelief as he himself was at the entire ordeal.

Then it seems to all speed up as the cup smashes into the floor, he hurtles money onto the table, knocks over the chair he sat upon as he picks up his backpack and flees the store in sheer panic. He begins to sweat as he hears the murmuring and whispering from the four other people in the café as well as the forgiving nature of the waitress. How can she be so patient with him? He began his escape down the sidewalk and hurried into a nearby tram that was passing by. He felt the eyes in the tram stare at him as well. They pierced his very being as he nervously fidgeted with his phone. He turned it on, for he did not want to feel out of place without the phone in his hand.

Immediately a call came from his best friend, Alfonso.

"Mick where are you? Everyone is looking for you. Are you OK? Just say you're OK."

"I am fine Alf," He replied, whispering it into the phone and staring out the window, the brim of his cap shielding him from the window itself, his mask wrapped tightly around his face.

"Ahh," A sigh of relief came from the other side. "We were worried about you Mick. What's going on?"

"They're after me, Alf, they are persecuting me for my views."

"What? What do you mean? Did you piss someone off on the internet again?" The voice on the other side, raspy and deeper than Mick's, seemed exasperated after uttering the word 'internet'.

"Yes, look, I need to lay low for a few days. I will be back, don't worry!" He moved the phone away and hung up, but not before hearing:

"Mick, it's just a mo-" He stowed away his phone and looked at the unread messages and calls. In his mind the vast amount of messages related to this surpassed anything he had encountered before, it was simply overwhelming to him. Forty unread messages, and notifications in discord in the server he participated in. It was a server for discussing movies, many of his online friends were there too. They would discuss movies and plots, as well as their favourites and over the course of the pandemic did multiple online viewings. It was a fun group and he admired them and enjoyed their presence and discussions. But he had gained the ire of the entire server and was thus on the run from those within.

As a result he disconnected himself and booked a few days in a motel outside the city. He called in sick from work and his heart had been racing. It had been 17 hours and he could still feel the push back. He didn't think it would be this extreme. Twitter profile on private, instagram, deactivated Facebook, Reddit notifications off. It had begun to become too much. All this because of one comment:

"Shrek 3 was the best Shrek."

He would never live it down. Tears streamed down his face as he looked out the window and slouched into the seat.

"Shrek is love." He whispered... "Shrek... is life..." He closed his eyes and tried to hold back the tears, but he could not. He could not.