#oliverwilde

Who else listens to Oliver Wilde?? 

  Somewhere amongst the millions of avatars on Second Life, just walking down a street in New London or flying over a castle in the middle ages, is an avatar like no other. arsenalfan1890 wears pretend straw hats because they’re good at keeping the virtual sun off his face, and no one wants to have to buy a sunburnt skin from the store. Can you even buy a sunburnt skin from the store? He carries scars and wounds from imaginary battles. The contours of his cold flesh sag where other avatars bulge with muscle, his chest hair is silver, and his mouth is adorned with the traces of fake smiles. When he walks along the seafront in a world of beaches, other avatars are directed to sit up from their sun loungers and to stop and stare.

“Who would make an avatar so… ugly?” asked sugarHUNNIxxx, peering over the top of a soda which she couldn’t drink.

“Just a newbie, probably. Some creepy old guy who hasn’t realized how the internet works yet” replied KitKatrage. They proceeded to teleport to some ancient Grecian gardens, to ride a Pegasus and appreciate the digitalized beauty surrounding them. It was for the same reasons that arsenalfan1890 was never approached, never talked to and never sent a friend request, but contrary to their beliefs he was far from a newbie. arsenalfan1890 had been one of the very first Second Life accounts made. Most people are lured in by the expectation of freedom the internet had been promising for years- the promise that on the internet, you can be whoever you want to be. arsenalfan1890 was who he needed to be.

~

Dorian was nearly ready to leave the house. He had rolled over the bodies of the women he had loved last night, not caring whether he elbowed them in the stomach. They were passed out, high on something, maybe dead. Dorian had pulled some trousers out from behind the bathroom door, but discarded them again as soon as he saw the blood stains. There was a long overcoat hung over the banister, which would do. After buttoning up the coat Dorian turned to face his desk and attended to his laptop. Yes, Harry’s party was still on tomorrow, and yes he’d replied to stupid Sibyl’s email… as he closed the email tab Second Life’s welcome page appeared from the tab behind. Dorian hadn’t logged in today, and he hadn’t logged in for eighteen years when he made the account.  He hastily closed it and stuffed it in his satchel; he was dying for a Wetherspoons fry up. All loaded up Dorian ran down the stairs and reached out his hand for the front door latch. As he twisted it he spied the quirkily handsome man in the mirror on the wall, looking more than one hundred years younger than he actually was. Lipstick was smudged across his cheek, but no other sign was left upon his face of the previous night’s antics.  After Dorian sprang outside and locked the door behind him, he powerwalked down the street towards his car, Victoria, ruffling his hair to get some style into it. Mrs Vane next door peered out from behind her net curtains while drying off a plate in her hands. With a cheeky twist of her lips she smiled at the view, as the young Mr Gray stuck his arse in the air while searching for the de-icer in a foot well of his car. She sighed and turned back into the kitchen to tell Melanie to stop drawing on the walls and just watch Peppa Pig.

  The sun was setting over the London skyline buttercup yellow, blue, and violet hues. Deep in the city’s depths Dorian was walking down its streets with his girlfriend, Sibyl, can of larger in hand. The glass panels of office buildings reminded him of pixels on a screen. As he gazed at the sunset he extended one foot off the pavement- Victoria was parked not far away at a very old friend’s ground floor flat. As soon as his toes tapped onto the tarmac a pair of burglars disguised in a butcher’s van ran over his leg and sucked Dorian under the van. His right leg snapped four times and his left arm snapped twice. His back cracked to the rhythm of London’s beating traffic, and his head hit the ground like it wanted to die. But when Dorian was pulled onto the pavement by shaking ‘stupid’ Sibyl, he looked just as groomed as when he left the house that morning. Office workers came rushing from all directions, crowding him and rousing him with their incessant cries of worry. Dorian slowly blinked his eyes open and stretched out his limbs one by one. All were in perfect working order, and he ran his hand over his face to check for any damages. It was as it has always been- nothing could harm the beautiful face of Dorian Gray, nothing of this world anyway.

~

The next day arsenalfan1890 was strolling up and down the beach again, not approaching anyone, and no one approaching him. He looked out to the infinite horizon; the sun that always shines was mirrored on the ocean. The beach was packed and more so than usual, but underneath the palm trees stood two female avatars trying on their new bikinis. As sugarHUNNIxxx’s bikini bra changed from turquoise to cerise arsenalfan1890 crept into the corner of her screen.

“It’s him again”

“Who?” asked KitKatrage, not looking away from the panda with wings across the beach. She loved their shoes, and wondered if they were free.

“Him! Hmmmm… arsenalfan1890, It must be the same guy from yesterday. Honestly, who one wants to be old. That must be the only honest person on the internet”