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The Twitcher

by Keef 

Posted: 31 August 2014
Word Count: 705
Summary: Twitching is huge on the internet, it's easy, you just follow celebrities and have the chance to win prizes.

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“What you do is you follow them on the internet, it says where they’ll be and what they’ll be doing.” That was his big idea, this new website, celebrities would post things and you follow them.  So I signed up, I started following a few people, not real famous people, the semi-famous, the game show hosts and reality TV narrators.  I called Frank the next day to tell him, he was over the moon, my tactics were good as well.  Following the little celebs was bound to mean I was more likely to win; albeit a smaller prize. 

“Brilliant, it’s a good start, the other day I was following Tom Cruise, there were 12,000 other Twitcher’s I came nowhere; some of them have sponsors, they do it professionally you know.” Frank liked following actors, he had lots of actor friends from drama school.

“Really?” I said enthusiastically, pitying myself for enjoying it so much.  I checked to see if anyone I was following was out that evening, my girlfriend didn’t approve, and said if I went Twitching, she wouldn’t be my girlfriend anymore; so I’ve started following an ex-girl band pin up who does supermarket adverts, just in case.  I found one, the narrator of a reality TV cook show, where everybody goes round each others house and insult the party host's tiramisu whilst sitting on the corner of their bed.  The problem was I’d never seen him, so I did some research of what he looked like, and the area he was going to.  On Google Maps I found a decent place, a bush at the far end of his road, where the Twitchings come less frequently but are stronger, more rewarding.  It was all about tactics Twitching.  I had to ring Frank again to tell him the good news.

“I’m going tonight, to Twitch.” I said, the excitement in my voice bringing me back down to Earth, but still this would be exciting wouldn’t it. The prize a cheese hamper, and I love cheese, so I can’t possibly lose.

When I arrived at my spot there were already two other Twitchers, now on the website the rules stated that if one person in a bush Twitches, your all out, but you can move bushes.  So I found a nice lavender plant to hide behind a few metres up the road, big enough for myself to fit behind but too small for anyone else.  I didn’t know how my Twitchings would come though, I left my research and revision notes at home, an amateur mistake I thought. 

As the night set in the Twitchings began at their lowest point - almost non-existent. Every-so-often a rustle, and a collection of footsteps wandering up the road, it was so cold behind the lavender I thought my breath would give me away, at least the cold meant I was sharing my spot with a couple of bees.  I could see the man I’d researched at his party switching between making cocktails in his semi-custom kitchen and screaming towards a bush, threatening to call the police. 

I think he was acting though, I mean he’s playing too. Frank said he was actually invited in by a 7th place Eurovision Song Contest competitor.

It’s kind of like a really well organised game of hide and seek, that’s what Frank told me anyway.  After about an hour I was doing well, the two folks in the original bush had left and I could almost feel the wicker hamper digging into my fingers.

Then a man tapped me on the shoulder, he told the game was over and the police had been called.  So I ran home, as fast as I could, as soon as I got in I rang Frank.

“Frank, the police were called, the game got called off.”

“I know, I know.” He hung up very abruptly, maybe he was Twitching himself.  I went on the website to see who he was following but it had been shut down.  I figured I’d got away with it, for now anyway, and decided to ring my girlfriend. 

She was at Frank’s house, she was his girlfriend now and they were planning on having friends round for a cheese board.

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