Mr. V re-read and accepted the invitation to meet Rob at Pelican Brewery and clapped his hands gleefully, for at last he'd finally meet the Worshipful Master, the current undisputed king of internet trolls.
V thought he was pretty good at trolling but knew for a fact that he could learn a lot more at the feet of the Master.
Time slowly crawled until the day his date with Destiny finally arrived; ebullient and open-minded, he fired up his F-250 4x4 and motored through the streets of downtown Portland.
Feeling curiously upbeat and civic-minded he drove onto the sidewalk and mowed down at least ten homeless bums in and near their tents.
"Ah, taking out this trash is better than passing gas" he laughed, and he simply LOVED to pass gas.
A Portland cop saw the whole thing unfold and instead of cuffing V he gave him a golf clap, followed by a salute.
V stopped at a car wash to clean the brain tissue and blood off his Ford and then drove to the Oregon coast; V pulled into the parking lot of the Pelican Brewery.
"Where is his hot Dodge?" V wondered, as he espied no such vehicle.
Checking his watch he verified he was there at the agreed time; V thanked and welcomed himself for being punctual.
He entered the brewery and looked around: no Rob; V waited a half hour and left, bitterly disappointed but not surprised: he figured this would happen.
While at the coast he went to Chinook Winds and played Double Diamond in the Elite room, but the handpay did little to dispel the gloom he felt over being blown off by his mentor.
"I could have been a contender" V moaned, "had I only been shown the True Path."
His deep emotions led to a gaseous emission of Biblical proportions, a true anus shredder which permeated the air to a redolent degree, clearing all the players out of the Elite room.
"Woe is me" moaned the stood up wannabe acolyte, "Woe is me."
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