Little Kevin thought he was big time famous. He wasn’t, but, that didn’t stop Kevin from believing he was a world famous rock star. Kevin wasn’t entirely delusional, for any video he posted on Youtube would go viral within a day; at ten million hits a day, who was to argue the boy isn’t famous? Reality. What Kevin didn’t know was that his Dad was a computer hacker who could route millions of hits anywhere.
Kevin walked around with the belief that every one recognized him, they were just too intimidated to say anything. He knew most girls in his grade three class loved Justin Bieber, and most boys hated him. Kevin knew how Justin Bieber felt. For Kevin it was worse, cause, not only did all the boys hate him, all the girls pretended to hate him, too, as though they weren’t all secret fans.
Kevin was the least popular kid in his class. All the other kids thought he was weird and annoying.
“Could you all be quiet please, I’m trying to think of another hit song,” Kevin barked at his classmates. Mrs. Wallace had stepped out of the class telling them to stay in their seats and keep quiet.
All the boys and girls laughed at Kevin, bombing him with jeers and many a Bronx cheer.
“Oh yeah? Well, at least I’m famous!” Kevin shouted at his classmates, only inspiring them to mock him more.
“Sure you’re famous, Kevin… you’re famous for being the biggest loser in this class!” chirped Harriet. The rest of the class laughed in agreement.
“Your attacks of me just prove you’re jealous of me.” Kevin recited the line his Dad had him memorize to use at any such occasion. Kevin’s Dad knew his son was a loser and the most unpopular kid in his school, so, he thought he could cheer him up by giving him all the hits. He hoped it’d boost the boy’s self confidence. It made him confident, alright. It gave him the ego of General Douglas MacArthur, “I am a rock god and you all know it and secretly want what I have and it makes you all ugly outside and you say mean and ugly things, just like I see all the mean things people write on Justin Bieber’s Youtube videos. But I know all those people wish they could be as famous as me and Justin Bieber. And I have a billion hits and not one negative comment, so I’m even better than Justin Bieber!” Kevin finished yelling at his classmates.
“Liar liar pants on fire!” Was the most popular refrain his classmates showered him with.
“Here! Check the computer! Go to Youtube you will see one billion hits! Just for one video!”
None of the children got up to go to the computer, because using the computer without the teacher’s permission was a crime punishable by long detentions. Still, Kevin was determined to reveal the truth of his celebrity. He turned on the computer and headed straight for his account on Youtube.
“There! See! I’m not lying, one billion hits!”
His entire grade three class gathered around the computer, mouths agape at the size of the number: 1,129, 399,492.
“How did you do that?” Harriet asked for the class.
“I told you, I’m famous.”
“Then why haven’t we heard of you? I’ve never seen you on tv or the radio or magazines or anywhere. How did you get so many hits?”
Before Kevin could answer Harriet, their teacher, Mrs. Wallace walked in and herded them back to their seats. “Hey! Children! What are you doing at the computer! Get back to your desks!”
The children promptly obeyed. As the students were taking their seats, Mrs. Wallace looked to see what they had been viewing. She saw a still shot of Kevin holding a karaoke mic in front of a television. “What’s this, Kevin? Were you showing the class some of your home videos?” If this was true, Mrs. Wallace was ready to go easy on the boy, because she knew how hard his classmates were on him.
Billy Strook spoke up before Kevin had the chance, “Kevin’s famous, Mrs. Wallace.”
Mrs. Wallace laughed. “Are you famous, Kevin?”
“Yes,” Kevin answered.
Mrs. Wallace laughed again, then quickly stopped, not wanting to upset the boy. “Can I watch the video, too?”
Kevin’s face brightened. “Sure! Ok!”
Mrs. Wallace clicked to start the video. It was a four minute long video of Kevin singing “Baby Baby” by Justin Bieber. Kevin, even for an eight year old, was a terrible singer, without a hope of pitch or tone or timing. The only two not laughing at the video were Kevin and Mrs. Wallace, who was fighting very hard from giving in to the laughter bubbling inside her, for the boy was terribly funny.
“You have so many hits cause you have the worst video on Youtube!” It was Harriet, again to express what the rest of the class was thinking.
“Well, at least I’m famous for something! What are you famous for? Nothing!” Kevin screamed at Harriet, though the words were meant for the entire class.
“Ok, ok, calm down, children, calm down.” Mrs. Wallace turned off the video before it was through. “Thank you, Kevin, for sharing your video, I liked it.”
“You were laughing!” Accused Jenny.
“No, I wasn’t.” Mrs. Wallace got the children to open their readers to get them quiet. The grade three class groaned in harmony, yet did as they were told, fetching their readers from their desks and opening them to read a story about a princess and a frog who knows he’s really a prince and he just needs the kiss of one beautiful princess to turn him back.
As Kevin read he related with the frog until the end when the princess kissed the frog, the frog stayed a frog cause sometimes a frog is just a frog, no matter how much it wants to be a prince.
cottonbombs 
sometimes i’ll be reading your stories and preparing a reply in my head
and then like a reporter at a game 7,
i have to click delete in my brain and start over
because the game took a pleasant and unexpected turn.
the frog who stays a frog and who seems content
in the most wonderful of ways. kevin has that ken kesey “as big as you believe you are”
confidence of ignatius in “confederacy of dunces” with the hidden narration
maybe prodding him along…, “you can always tell a genius if there’s a confederacy of dunces alligned against him.” there’s a red roofed church in downtown montreal and nearbye there used to be a book store. it was one of the first places i rememember visiting here. the owner was old and sold his strange xerox machined books of poetry for way more than all the other books
and he was charming with a real warm personality and i think people walked out of there feeling better about themselves.
I am flattered if I could bring to your mind Ignatius. That book made me laugh. It’s great to get the milk straight from the cow, or the poem from the poet. It does make us feel richer knowing we are feeding the poor starving artist. This was inspired by all these hits I keep getting from ‘Alphainventions’ yet, I don’t trust they are real, cause I never get any comments from them. If you are reading this from Alphainventions, just, type in the letter, ‘a’ to let me know you are real and not some imaginary hit factory that reads like Newt Gingrich’s Twitter followers.
what’s so memorable to me about ignatius and kevin is their definition. there never seems to be any hesitation or confusion and certainly no stench of perfection. maybe their invention is a mock in some sort of way, but they are made to be lovable and universal which maybe results from their ability to laugh at themselves.
i wonder what the in-person equivalent to alphainventions and its kin would be? people who smile, but never say anything?
at least it’s not trolling,
but you being inspired by what might not be real? there’s a cyber space muse on the loose.
Kevin was easy to get into. There’s more of me in that character than I am willing to admit. I don’t know about you, but my writing comes as much from what I don’t like and don’t know as from what I know I like. Do you get hits from alphainventions? I get hundreds every day, but, I am sure it’s pure fantasy cause I’ve never had a single hello. Like it will take just one ghost to get me to believe in ghosts, it’ll take one hello from someone from alphainventions to get me to believe in them.
that’s a good question about where writing comes from. i’ll have to think about that one. i guess sometimes i’m pissed about something and other times awed by things and it all makes its way into the writing.
haven’t heard from alphainventions, but real writer pops up every so often and it fills my email inbox with personalized promises about how great it all is.
like you say, one hello would seel the deal, but even that would smell spamish or trollish.
i like a good long dialogue like the one one swimming to canada inspired with multiple people involved. that was classic.
Of course we are shaped by our passion for or against something. As writers, we should be like lightening rods directing the energy, but not redefining it.
I am still waiting for a someone from this alphainventions to say something. I got 800 hits from them yesterday, but not a single hello. I’d even live with a: you suck. But, alas, only silence on their end.
Hey, watch it, buddy! I LIKE frogs! And see how famous that frog has become!
Rose! I never knew you were into frogs. I am sorry if I offended any frog lovers out there.