Act 1: The Setup

SeaTTTle, Washington. Rain-slicked streets glisten under flickering neon signs. Needles litter the alleys; graffiti covers the walls. The camera zooms in on a Safeway store, where Evan39—a purported gay grocery store manager, or perhaps even a secret 'biglawyer,' or maybe, just maybe, the same person as Mainlining or Boom—claims to work.

Evan39 had just asked one of his least-liked clerks—Kalisha, a morbidly obese Black woman with zero respect for Evan—to take out an overfilling, filthy trash bucket. Kalisha, however, responded, "Naw," promptly reminding Evan39 that it was conveniently time for her hourly ten-minute restroom break—an accommodation she has had for years under the Americans with Disabilities Act, all-too-easily granted by Safeway's overly cautious Leave & Absence team.

Evan39, grumbling to himself, grabs the overstuffed trash bag and trudges out to the alley like a defeated man on his way to the gallows. As he heaves the bag into a dumpster, an unholy shriek erupts: “WHO DIS NIGGA THAT THREW THIS SHIT AT ME?!” A towering, 6'5" Black, and particularly foul-smelling homeless man emerges from the trash, wild-eyed and foaming at the mouth, screaming, "LIL' BITCH FAG!" and charging toward Evan39 like a man possessed.

Evan39, now caught between the dumpster and a hard place, bolts back inside, his heart racing with both terror and weary familiarity. He slams the alley door shut, triple-checks the lock, and runs to the front, frantically waving down the stoned-looking security guard who’s lazily sipping a Big Gulp at the entrance. Having secured a vague promise that someone will “look into it,” he mutters to himself, “How dare you...” before returning to the chaos of Safeway, where a shrill soccer mom promptly demands a refund for expired kale.

With dead eyes and a forced grin that would terrify a small child, Evan39 sighs, “Sure, ma’am, just let me find our special kale expert to assist you,” and turns to no one in particular, “Kalisha? Oh wait… on a break, again.” He throws up his hands, muttering, “Just another day in paradise.”

Evan39's memories flash in rapid succession—failed romantic attempts, moments of longing for Mainlining, the elusive shitbort poaster he believes is his soulmate, despite never having met, spoken by phone, or held an online video chat. To Evan39, Mainlining remains a distant, enigmatic figure; his feelings for Mainlining often confuse him, having thought "Chad" was the answer his whole life. Yet Mainlining, a self-described slender, fit "twink," has enraptured Evan39's mind with his sharp wit and discussions of oddities—from fraudulent ruins and dinosaur skulls to riveting stories of encountering the "Grizz" in the backcountry. Mainlining's love for "pep"—an all-consuming passion for adrenaline-pumping excitement—adds to his mystique. His luscious hair, defying gravity and logic, only deepens Evan39's envy, who finds himself obsessing over his own receding hairline. Each interaction on the board brings Evan39 fleeting joy, but just as quickly, he's dragged down by the relentless rain of SeaTTTle, the clattering of shopping carts, and the constant harassment from homeless "freaks" he must evade at every turn.

Act 2: The Decision

Evan39 can’t take it anymore. “So-called 'Humanity'... this stinking, shit-pile of a ciTTTy... it’s too much,” he mutters, eyeing a flier for a new company called ADM—Advanced Dementia Management. He remembers the advertisements promising to help people erase memories too painful to endure. With desperation building, Evan39 decides to contact ADM.

Evan39 feels the weight of the flier in his hand. "This is it," he thinks, staring at the gaudy letters of ADM—Advanced Dementia Management. "Maybe they can make it all disappear…" He stuffs the flier into his pocket and heads out into the rain-soaked streets. At the bus stop, he tries to ignore the bedraggled woman mumbling to herself. As the bus arrives and Evan39 boards, a disheveled homeless man begins going down the aisle asking for change. No one gives him any, so he flops down in the seat next to Evan39 and decides to piss right there. A surprisingly huge stream of hot piss trickles by Evan39’s feet on the shaky bus floor. People scream and dodge the mess, and Evan39 feels a few splashes hit his shoes. He sighs heavily, muttering, "Just another day in SeaTTTle," as the bus lurches toward the facility, his anticipation and dread mounting with each passing block.

Meanwhile, by sheer coincidence, Boom is already at ADM under the mistaken belief that it’s actually Archer-Daniels-Midland Company (“ADM”), the agribusiness giant he blames for his current state—mentally impaired, wheelchair-bound, and spouting off about “fraudfuck$” and “tow driver fags.” Boom’s demented state has convinced him that ADM (Advanced Dementia Management) might hold the secret to fixing whatever the other ADM has done to him. He mutters to himself while wheeling around, slurping Mountain Dew via his wheelchair's hose, his wig slipping slightly on his bald head. He spots Mainlining in the corner, having shown rare empathy after being informed via an extremely disturbing poast by Evan39 with only a heading stating "Kill$elf time!," scribbling something in a worn notebook about grizzly bears being referred to by Lewis & Clark’s expedition members as "gentlemen."

Boom eyes Mainlining, beginning to chuckle in-between wheezes, a wild gleam in his wide-eyed, unblinking stare. “Maybe they’ll ju$t jump together,” he says to Mainlining, Boom's chaotic mind merging his fate with Evan39's, imagining that both of them—or perhaps Evan39 and another unfortunate soul, like Mainlining—are destined for some final, shared resolution, given their perceived miserable situations. Then, suddenly, Boom’s face contorts into a frantic rant. “Mainlining... something is very $ick out there... everything is fucked up,” he shouts, his voice rising. Mainlining, not looking up, continues to scratch cryptic notes in his notebook, perhaps plotting another hike to "grizz territory" or just jotting down random thoughts for another day.

Act 3: The Procedure

At ADM, Evan39 meets the technician—Disco Fries, an obese, middle-aged man with dreams of summiting Teewinot Mountain but who has settled for working in the memory deletion field instead. Disco Fries shuffles around in an oversized lab coat, grumbling about not having enough time to hike and blaming his sedentary life on his bad knees. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Disco Fries says. "Think of the memories you want to erase, Evan39, and we'll get to work."

Evan39 lays down in the memory-wiping chair, a tangle of electrodes attaching to his temples. As the machine hums to life, his memories flicker on a screen—moments of him yelling at customers, his first encounter with Mainlining, a dreamlike vision of summiting a peak in the Cascades only to realize he's still at sea level in SeaTTTle.

As the machine begins its work, Evan39 feels a strange pull inside his mind, like his soul is being slowly unraveled. Images flash rapidly: the countless times he was harassed by freaks outside his Safeway, his contempt for SeaTTTle’s long-standing "lib" nonsense, the time, out of desperation, he paid to fuck a squat Mayan with rotten teeth, never having fucked "Chad" or even paying up for the male "Real Doll," and his frustrating and increasingly scary encounters with the SeaTTTle homeless. As a cherished memory of a quiet, unexpected laugh with Mainlining begins to blur, panic surges through him. "Wait, no, not that one!" he shouts, his voice trembling. The machine hums louder, and he claws at the electrodes. "Stop! I... I need that!” he stammers, a tear escaping his eye. Disco Fries frantically tries to adjust the settings, shouting, “Stay calm, Evan39! We’re almost through!” But the absurdity of it all strikes him—what's left when everything’s erased? His grip on the armrest tightens, his mind fighting back against the machine's relentless pull.

Act 4: The Resistance

“Evan39, you think you can ju$t run from this rigged world & ‘humanity’? Ljl." His wig flaps in the wind like a demented toupee. He chucks it off, revealing his shiny bald head, laughing maniacally as he wheels circles around Evan39.

The scene shifts rapidly—a flurry of Evan39's memories: the taste of stale coffee at the store, the rain-drenched nights under SeaTTTle’s neon signs, the empty feeling after each failed date. Then, a pause. A memory surfaces: a 2013 AutoAdmit poast, Mainlining sharing a story about his encounter with a grizzly bear. The thread, strangely quiet, had no replies from other poasters—a rare moment of solitude on the chaotic board.

In his post, Mainlining detailed his backcountry trek, describing how he stumbled upon a bear, their eyes locking for what felt like minutes. "Grizz don't always attack," he wrote, "sometimes they just… observe, like they see into you." Evan39 had read that poast a thousand times—much the same way Mainlining constantly recounts Boom's 2014 poast to him: "mainlining I'm writiing here and tell me what you think…"—wondering if it was a metaphor for something deeper, a secret message meant only for him. That moment, devoid of the usual barrage of XO noise, felt like a beacon in the madness of their shared digital existence.

Evan39 clung to that memory as the machine hummed louder, its invasive tendrils probing deeper into his mind. He could feel the threads of that connection—thin, tenuous, but somehow undeniable—beginning to fray, and his grip tightened. He realized that he didn’t want to let go of that faint, almost absurd hope: that Mainlining’s words had been meant for him, and him alone. It was ridiculous, but in the world of endless poasting and meaningless banter, it felt like everything.

The machine sparks and sputters, as if fighting against his resistance. Disco Fries, sweating profusely, is frantically mashing buttons. "What the hell is happening?!" he yells, looking both panicked and confused. "It's like this machine's going rogue!"

Evan39’s mind refuses to give up. Inside the shifting landscapes of his memories, he sees Boom, still spinning wildly in his wheelchair, shouting, “I told ya, ya dumbass! Even ADM can't delete what we choose to keep! You think you can ju$t wipe this $hit away?! You think too much like a fraudfuck lawyer!"

Mainlining laughs softly, a rare, genuine sound. “Looks like even this rigged system can’t handle the real memories, huh?”

Act 5: The Reclamation

Evan39 opens his eyes back in the ADM facility. The machine has powered down, and Disco Fries is looking at him, wide-eyed and wiping his brow. “You… you fought the machine, Evan39,” he says. “I’ve never seen that happen before. But now you’re left with bits and pieces… the good, the bad, the weird…”

Evan39 sits up slowly, feeling an odd mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. “Guess I’m not ready to forget,” he murmurs, feeling the weight of his receding hairline suddenly inconsequential next to the bizarre, wonderful mess of his memories. He glances around, catching sight of Boom by the door, his wig still precariously perched on his head, grinning like a lunatic.

Boom’s eyes gleam with manic delight. "Enough of this bull$hit fraud fake fraud 'ADM'... Evan39 and Mainlining love you both! You know the 'masses' haven't a clue… only know the bullshit distractions. Let’s get back to the Safeway so Evan39 can continue to 'work' ljl like a sheeple… Mainlining & I need to 'handle' some tow driver fags."

Mainlining, closing his notebook with a snap, his luscious hair swaying dramatically like he’s in some kind of shampoo commercial, gives a sly grin. “Let’s get out of here, Evan39. We’ve got more stories to poast, more bears to find, and more ruins to expose. Maybe there’s still something out there worth having a little ‘pep’ about.”

They make their way out, deciding to grab some "pep" at Big Mario's, the local pizza place. The three sit around a table littered with pizza crusts and empty cans of Mountain Dew, Boom chugging from his ever-present wheelchair hose. The camaraderie feels oddly real, tangible—a break in the clouds of their online personas.

The three of them exit the ADM facility, with Boom rolling his wheelchair out into the rain-soaked streets of SeaTTTle. But this time, the rain feels different—lighter, almost refreshing. Evan39 walks beside Boom, a small but real smile on his face, a spark of something new, something not quite so bitter.

Final Montage: Reflections in the Rain

A series of quick scenes play:

Evan39, back at Safeway, arguing with another customer over the price of organic quinoa, but with a twinkle in his eye as he imagines Boom yelling, “You fraudfuck!” at the next person in line.

Mainlining, trekking solo through dense forest, stops to make an entry in his notebook, pausing to consider whether the ruins he saw on his last hike were truly ancient or just another scam. He smirks, his hair still immaculate despite the mist.

Boom, in his wheelchair, navigating a busy city park, shouting profanities at pigeons and passersby, but grinning from ear to ear.

The rain continues to fall over SeaTTTle, but it now seems more like a companion than an enemy. Evan39 senses something different in the air—a kind of absurd freedom, even amidst the chaos.

End Credits:

AutoAdmit threads scroll across the screen:

RSF posts yet another selfie, this time from the ruins of some questionable site in Turkey. “Feeling blessed! #LivingMyBestLife,” while a chorus of poasters debates the authenticity of the ruins.

Disco Fries, having miraculously reached the summit of Teewinot Mountain, poses triumphantly with a sign reading, “Against all odds… my knees made it.”

Boom starts a new thread titled, "Would a Grizz or a Chad win in a cage match?" Replies flood in, a perfect mix of serious debate and humorous derision.

Final Shot:

Boom, still laughing, shouts to the sky, “Grizz ain’t got nothing on us!” His wig slips slightly but manages to stay perfectly perched atop his head. Mainlining rolls his eyes, scribbling again in his notebook, while Evan39 just shakes his head, feeling a rare, unspoken camaraderie.

The camera pans up to the gray clouds of SeaTTTle, where a hint of sunshine finally breaks through, glinting on the wet streets below. Evan39, Boom, and Mainlining continue onward—Boom rolling along in his wheelchair, Evan39 and Mainlining walking beside him—three unlikely companions navigating the rain together.

Fade to black.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5594757&forum_id=2Elisa#48088792)

I worked at a store once where I had to take the trash to the dumpster and found piles of human waste. The homeless freaks had been living back there for months. I really started to reconsider my career "options" at that point.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5594757&forum_id=2Elisa#48088836)