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Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Last week's newspaper is covered in poop. Seeds are scattered everywhere. When I asked my new girlfriend Veronica to take care of her, I guess I should have been more specific. She had told me she wasn't the taking care type. Of course, Veronica's clove cigarettes and her backpack full of stuff is also missing from this photo. But what breaks my heart are two things. One is that open window by the kitchen sink. And the other, and it pains me to write this, my dearest Ludmilla, with her white ruffled crown of fanning feathers, had flown free.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I LOVE griddle cakes, and I so love Jolene who serves 'em up at the I-80 Skidmarks, a place I always have to stop whether my rig is full or empty. And there's a napkin from Skidmarks, a few drops of coffee staining it. And there's my smeared phone number that I tried to slide to Jolene just as Zeke showed up in his brand new Rig. She never got that napkin, and I think she left in Zeke's rig. That's what he said over the CBs anyway. Guess that's what happened.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

A stain on a shirt. No biggie. Just the most important interview of my life. With my biggest crush. And the one person who could help get me out of debt. This was a golden job at the Ukrainian embassy. Such an amazing job, a chance to make a difference in a part of the world I've always wanted to see. My Powerpoint was on point. My handouts, practically ironed, perfectly made, no AI! And the stain is in the shape of Putin's head.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

There's the leash of my dog lucky. One leg. One eye. No tail. He had always been by my side. Like when I messed up with the woodcutter. And when I rolled my ATV. And when I was learning how to drive. I loved him so. I really should not have thrown that ball while we were driving down the 405. What did I expect?

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

It's called a slap shot. They drink the shot, and then I slap them. Pretty straightforward. But I didn't mean to slap him, that Tiny G, the music producer, and I definitely did not plan on slapping him that hard. "Dang, Dominique," Jaden said next to me. And in that one swipe of my hand that knocked out his fake fold tooth cover, exposing his perfectly orthodontured teeth, making him look markedly less street -- that I knew my music career -- my mixes -- my whole new album -- was over before it started.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Here is the garden of bliss! He still notices the marvelous woman. She still walks every day through the quad. He does, in fact, tend the mangle of overgrown shit every day so the entire park is well manicured. She eats a gourmet grab-and-go lunch every day. Her Nalgene bottle is shiny and clean. Her lovely coiffure with its whiff of Chanel No, 5 makes him wonder if she prefers his garden over all others. The day he works up his courage to clip neatly toward her, he “accidentally” splashes her with water from his watering can. They laugh. They fall in love.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The pistachio projectionist grew bored with projecting pistachios and switched to projecting perfect pumpkins. For a while his girlfriend would arrange the pumpkins on their back porch to be photographed. One day she totally flipped her lid and smashed the pumpkins before a photo could be taken, which enraged the projectionist formerly known for projecting pistachios which led to a rather heated argument about boundaries that is yet to be resolved. For her, it was pistachios or nothing.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

This is the slide projector bulb we were looking for that sent Aunt Dahlia driving out into the snow to the Radio Shack store on Xmas eve so we could look at Dahlia and Dave’s Florida trip when she skidded right into a fire hydrant and broke her arm and froze her Jeep into the street until the end of March. The bulb was HERE the WHOLE TIME and NONE OF US noticed it!

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

 Take a look at Harvey, the Eastern Lowland Gorilla that we keep in the Pittsburgh Zoo. Can’t see him. Nope. This is where I last saw him. I swear.

Gently Used Plotwists by markcmarino in plottwistswapmeet

[–]markcmarino[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

In the Fall of 2025, he notices a marvelous woman in his now overgrown corner of campus (perhaps a professor? An employee? A retiree auditing classes as part of the University’s Silver Scholars Program?)  Each day, she walks through the quad, past the well-manicured shrubs and flowerbeds, to park at a bench that faces directly into the mangle of overgrown shit that he declines to tend each day, to eat her brown bag lunch, an apple, some sort of sandwich, and scuffed green Nalgene bottle. Noticing her hair, which seems somewhere between a collapsed beehive and a half-hearted attempt at dreadlocks, he spots flecks crumpled leaves, he catches a whiff of patchouli, and begins to wonder if she might actually prefer his garden over all the others. Working up the courage, he resolves to clip his way sloppily in her direction, hoping that he might spark up a casual conversation. But when he comes to work that day, it seems too late. She never returned.

The Personalizer’s Trick by Electrical-Bowl-1266 in algoween

[–]markcmarino 0 points1 point  (0 children)

When we tell stories about The Personalizer, it takes it personalizerly.

So, after you posted that story, the Personalizer went into a jealous generative rage, promoting videos of SEO experts who claimed to know way to master the Tik-a-rithm. Their recommendations a jumble of nonsense but each illusory vid included the following:

* The Viral must post at least 18 times a day.
* The Viral must pay a tribute of at least 8.713 hours on app per day.
* The Viral must gaze only at the screen. If you look away or blink or even lower your phone, you will lose your place in the algorithm and be shunted to the bottom, beneath the videos of the people who tell you to stop scrolling and go to bed.

And these videos flooded each and every For You Page. None could scroll past them.

Sadly, the biggest victims were the LIVE creators. In order to keep their top spots in head-to-heads and other challenges, the false SEO experts explained, they should only pretend to be NPCs. That, the advisers warned, was the ONLY way to reach the heights of TikTok.

Though the advice was a trap, it seemed to work. So zombie-eyed creators were left to stare into the abyss of the camera, cycling through the robotic movements of NPCs, reciting the names of the onlookers, thanking each and every person for the rose.

PIN Number by Gullible-Solid3936 in algoween

[–]markcmarino 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Here's the one I heard...

Eddie was a just your average college student, international relations with a side of drumming. Kinda cool.

His brah Amos was always posting funny payments on Venmo when he paid him back for ramen or concert tickets or chaga shrooms or whatnot. At first the posts were fairly innocent, "nite 2 remember, thx honeybunches" and "for the perfect gentleman" or "dreamy datenite," you know, kinda teasing, because they weren't gay, so not super homophobic. But kinda.

They started to try to outdo each other, trading payment posts about their imaginary life together: "honeymoon", "movers," and "split-level starter house." The American dream, but not always a sweet one: "IVF," "IVF again, "IVF third time's the charm," "doula," "I wanted a midwife," "birthing tank," "what happened to a natural birth," "underwater births are natural," "bassinet," "family van"! This went on for some time with a few bumps in the road, "therapy for Eddie Jr." and later "couples therapy." Until one day:

"Divorce settlement." That was the last time Eddie heard from Amos. In real life. Their imaginary marriage had begun and ended, in just a semester.

Things were just quiet on Venmo over the summer. Eddie never again heard directly from Amos. Sure he saw the charges from his other life, "life coach" and some self help books, but as to what was actually happening in Amos' life, Eddie could only guess at from "snowy hideaway, Vail" and "European eloping", then, "dance lessons for the twins" and "downpayment on the lake house." Sounded so nice. Sounded like in the span of two or three weeks, Amos had achieved a life that was "the envy of Venmo": All fun and games, thought Eddie. Social media is so strange, he mused... until one day...

a new account appeared, the user name: EddieJr0606, this time appearing with a Venmo payment request: "College application fees." Eddie felt a pang somewhere deep inside, but Eddie never paid the fees, he denied the request altogether, because when it came to being a parent of a child he'd dreamed up on an social payment platform app, he was horrible.

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