The browser tab: a portal to the porn underworld of neon spam. The phrase: "Free yourself from sexual repression!" — a digital self-help hit.
"Repression?" I growled. "I'm just… selective."
The site: a carnival of flashing banners ("50% OFF VIBRATORS!"), pop-ups for "galaxy"-flavored lube, and buttons that shifted like traps.
My traitor finger: clicked. The click: a glitch in the universe. The screen: "THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE!" in puke-green.
"WHAT…?" I choked on a cracker.
Item: "Extra-Long Relaxing Massager (30cm)". 30cm?! It was a purple missile.
Panic: "THIS IS A MISTAKE!" I yelled at the site, which blinked a "spicy delights?".
The email: "Your order arrives tomorrow!". Address: My parents' house.
Plan of action: Intercept the mailman (bribe him with my scent?). Fake smallpox (nobody deserves that). Jump out the window (faster than explaining "No, Mom, it's not a weapon").
THE SEARCH HISTORY! DELETE EVIDENCE! IQ 150? Great. Good for something, at least: erasing the history.
"Cucumber-shaped vibrator?" I imagined Leo mocking me in the family group chat. "NO WAY."
Emergency Protocol: Deleted cache/cookies like wiping away a blood trail. Custom script to overwrite PC memory with random emojis. DNS reset + system logs deleted. Mission: Ensure not even the NSA could find my digital cucumber.
The night? A loop of nightmares: purple missiles chasing me and delivery guys laughing with steel teeth.
Woke up before the alarm, something rarer than smelling good at breakfast.
Breakfast: "Styrofoam bread + anxiety" — I chewed while watching the door. Every noise outside was a "ALERT: IMMINENT PACKAGE". Plan: Intercept the delivery guy with a "quantum physics package" excuse.
But the universe laughed in my face.
DING DONG!
"THIS IS THE END!" — my heart lodged in my throat.
Leo emerged: "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, HOLD YOUR HORSES, DAMN!" — he yelled, in spaceship pajamas, hair in solar explosion mode.
Too late. "Give that here, it's mine"— I lunged in desperation.
"FOR YOU, WEIRDO!" — he dangled the box, laughing like the Joker.
"GIVE IT TO ME!" — I jumped, but he held the box high like an evil trophy.
He ripped the cardboard. "What do we have here…?" — villain-from-a-cartoon voice.
"NO!" — I screamed, but it was too late. The box opened...
And then… silence.
Leo's eyes widened. His mouth formed a perfect "O." His jaw dropped, nearly unhinging. He stood motionless for about three seconds that felt like three centuries, staring at the contents of the mangled box.
And then came the explosion.
LAUGHTER. Not a chuckle. HYSTERICAL, SCANDALOUS laughter that echoed through the entire house, probably waking neighbors within a five-block radius. He doubled over, tears streaming down his face, pointing at the purple and obscenely large object now exposed in all its 30-centimeter glory.
"NO! NO! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" he managed to say between gasps of laughter. "IT'S… IT'S A… A… A GIANT DILDO?! BIA'S?!". He grabbed the phallic purple object with one hand, holding it up like an Olympic trophy of shame. "GUYS! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THIS THING! BIA BOUGHT HERSELF A… A… A RUBBER FRIEND THE SIZE OF A LAMPPOST!".
I wanted to die. Right there. Be struck by lightning. Have the floor open up and swallow me. Have a cloud of giant purple locusts descend from the heavens and carry me away. Anything would be better than witnessing this.
"LEO! YOU IDIOT! GIVE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!" I screamed, my voice high-pitched with panic and humiliation, uselessly trying to snatch the vibrator from his hands.
"GIVE IT BACK? NO WAY!" he dodged, still laughing like a maniac. "This is material of public interest! The family NEEDS to know about Bia's new… acquisition! Get ready for stardom in the family group chat, sis!".
And with a final war cry ("INTIMATE WELLNESS ALERT LEVEL: HARDCORE!"), Leo ran off towards his own room, brandishing the giant vibrator like it was the Excalibur of embarrassment, leaving behind only the echo of his diabolical laughter and a Beatriz in a state of molecular disintegration.
Total humiliation was just beginning.
"FAMILY GATHERED TO MEET BIA'S BOYFRIEND (30cm OF PURE LOVE!)"
A guttural groan escaped my lips. He hadn't. HE HAD. The irresponsible little **** with Y chromosomes had actually created a group chat with that name. I opened the conversation with the same enthusiasm as someone opening an envelope containing a death sentence.
It was a massacre. A digital carnage.
Leo: [PHOTO OF THE GIANT PURPLE VIBRATOR IN THE OPEN BOX]Leo: GUYYYYYYYYYS! LOOK WHAT BIA BOUGHT HERSELF!!!!Leo: #BiaIsOnTheMarket #SizeDoesntMatter #JK #30cmDEFINITELYMattersLeo: [CLOSE-UP PHOTO OF VIBRATOR WITH HIS HAND NEXT TO IT FOR SCALE]Leo: Mom, Dad, I think Bia solved her loneliness problem in a rather... impactful wayLeo: Anyone got D batteries? Think this monster needs like 8 to turn on!Leo: Bia, what's his name? Suggestions: Purple Thunder, Little Hero, or The Hoo-Ha Exterminator?
I opened the conversation with the same joy as someone about to get a rectal exam from a doctor with ice-cold hands. It was a digital horror show, courtesy of Leo. Photos of the purple missile from embarrassing angles, infamous jokes, emojis that should be banned from the internet. I threw the phone away and seriously considered moving to a cave without Wi-Fi.
(TIME SKIP: END OF DAY - PARENTS' ARRIVAL AND THE FAMILY CONFERENCE)
My parents' arrival was heralded by a heavy silence, followed by a murmur I could have sworn contained the words "giant" and "therapy." I was summoned to the living room like a defendant going to trial. My mother wore the expression of someone who had seen a ghost holding a phallic object of biblical proportions. Leo grinned like the Joker. My dad... my dad was different. An expression of embarrassment and... amusement. Oh, no.
"Sit down, honey," my mother began, her voice thick with concern. "Leo... well, he shared the... news. And we were... a little... apprehensive. About the size, mainly. Dear, are you okay? Feeling lonely? You know, a... a toy of that size... either you have... very high expectations for a future relationship, or… well, you're not trying to self-eliminate, are you? That thing is… A death risk, girl!" Mom said, pointing at Purple Thunder the vibrator.
"Look on the bright side, that thing doesn't cause pregnancy!" my dad interrupted, with a wide laugh that didn't fit the situation at all. He leaned back on the sofa, relaxed.
"Look, kiddo... I confess I was surprised. But positively! Better this than those letters I found you writing years ago... who was it again? That anime character with dog ears who fights with a sword or whatever he does, from the Japanese cartoon?". He snapped his fingers.
"And you were already 20! I thought: 'That's it, lost my chance of having grandkids to an animated piece of metal!'. But look at you now! You've evolved! From the anime boyfriend to the... the... let's say... purple staff of joy!".
Leo choked on his laughter. My mother shot my dad a death glare.
"Honey!" she protested.
"What, dear? Trying to lighten the mood!" he shrugged. "At least we know she has... company now. Just don't know if this... friend here will want to play soccer with me on the weekend. Seems a bit... stiff.". He winked at me. "Seriously, Bia, relax. But, let's face it, 30cm?" He scratched his head, his expression shifting from amusement to concern and thoughtfulness. "But... yeah... I guess grandkids will take a while anyway!"
"Yeah, Dad! That thing doesn't eat rice and beans!" Leo added, opportunistic as always.
My mother sighed, ignoring the masculine buffoonery. "Beatriz, the point is: you need a change. This seclusion isn't doing you any good. You need to go out, see people, go back to college, find a... a purpose!".
"Speaking of purpose..." my dad changed the subject abruptly, his tone becoming a bit more serious, but still with a hint of animation. "Remember Ricardo, my friend from Studio?".
Studio. An indie game developer that made some really cool titles, the kind I secretly admired (and played for hours when no one was looking). I nodded, confused.
"Yeah," my dad continued. "He was desperate for a designer assistant, someone talented in art, like yesterday. I told him about you, showed him that dusty portfolio you hide in the back of your closet...". My portfolio? He had shown my portfolio? "...and Ricardo LOVED it. Said it was exactly what he needed. Long story short: the job is yours. You start Monday."
Shock. My brain, already overloaded by the vibrator humiliation and the bizarre family conference, nearly short-circuited. "What?! What do you mean? Job? Monday? Dad, you didn't even talk to me first!" I protested, my voice higher-pitched than intended.
"There was nothing to talk about, Beatriz," he replied firmly. "It was take it or leave it. And you're taking it. Enough hiding in this room. It's a cool company, you like this gaming field, it'll do you good to get out of this cave. Monday, eight AM, be there. No discussion. End of story." He softened slightly. "It's a chance, kiddo. Take it."
I was speechless. The monumental humiliation of the 30cm vibrator now competed with the shock of the unexpected job offer and the irrefutable paternal order. It was too much information. Too much conflicting emotion. I fled to my room before my head exploded right there in the living room.
I threw myself onto the bed, body heavy, mind a whirlwind. Giant vibrator. Embarrassingly understanding (or mocking) parents. Forced job offer at a game company. It was too much. I needed... to process. Or maybe just sleep for a whole week.
Ping. The phone on the nightstand. I ignored it.
Ping. Ping. Grumbling, I reached out and grabbed the device. Notification from @StarryNight88. I opened the message almost automatically, expecting some platitude about the weather or school ghosts.
@StarryNight88: Hey, neighbor. How was your day? Hectic?
I rolled my eyes. He had no idea. I replied without much thought, maybe needing to vent about anything other than the purple object of discord.
Me: Hectic is an understatement. But... I guess I'll have more to keep me busy now. My dad kind of got me a job. Starting Monday at Studio.
His reply came almost instantly.
@StarryNight88: Seriously? At Studio? Small world...
My heart did a weird flutter.
@StarryNight88: See you there then. I work in level design.
I froze. The phone screen seemed to melt before my eyes. Studio. Level design. See you there then.
Steven. The Mystery Neighbor. The @StarryNight88. The ex-nerdy-skinny-guy-I-thought-was-cute. Was going to be my... COWORKER?!
The panic returned. But this time, it was different. It was level 11 panic, complete with sirens, flashing red lights, and the absolute certainty that the universe had a very, VERY sick sense of humor.