The Internet is down today.

Perhaps that shouldn’t disturb me, but for some reason, it does. I mean, Hell, there’s nothing (or no one) else to do in here. Just because a person lives in Boston doesn’t mean they actually have anything to do.

But the Internet is down.

I can’t talk to my protégées.

There are nine of them. One of them, Laura, is quite the beauty. She’s innocent, but amazingly beautiful. She has blonde hair that falls into loose curls, pale, barely freckled skin, and exquisite greenish-blue eyes. To be frank, I’m not sure why she talks to me— I know she’s unnerved by me.

Alex is the exact opposite, although in my opinion still beautiful. She has short hair, currently dyed pink (although who knows what color it will be next week), and green eyes, but she wears leopard contacts over them. She likes me, but that’s probably because she thinks I’m a woman. I’m surprised that she actually believes me— Alex is quite the cynic.

Sarah is cut of a slightly more mild mold, with a smile that few can coax out, yet that I seem to encourage easily— a beautiful one, that brings out her dimples and makes her blue eyes sparkle beneath those luxurious brown curls. She thinks she’s the only one I talk to— that I love her, and would do anything for her. If only she knew.

Bekah— well, she’s just plain hot, I’ve got to admit. There are no real intellectual thoughts in her head, but that’s all right. Women don’t need brains, just— well, we’ll not go there. She has long, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, and has one of the nicest bodies I’ve ever seen on a teen girl. She’s also easily excitable, but that is supposed to be our secret, so shh, don’t tell anyone I told you.

Mallory’s more of a housewifey type. I’m trying to get her to be more exciting, but for some odd reason it doesn’t seem to be working. That’s all right, though— it only adds to her, seeing as she’s a somewhat hippy girl, with shoulder-length reddish brown hair and brown eyes. She enjoys my presence, though, and I’ve got to say, I like hers as well— even if we do talk about weird stuff like children and schools. You’ve gotta have sex to have kids, after all.

Alexandria’s more the stereotypical hot Hispanic girl. She talks with an accent, and has the typical dark hair, skin, and eyes. She’s quite attractive, and amuses me well, if you get my drift. One of the ones that actually brought up meeting in person, we’ve talked on the phone a few times, and she has the most sultry voice, with just a slight tinge of an accent.

Only twelve, Rachel’s merely a child, but I’m willing to guide her into adulthood, if you know what I mean. With dyed-black hair and purple contacts, she’s definitely a Hot Topic child, and she tries her damndest to be perverse— but in truth, it’s really somewhat laughable. She’s adorable, though, in how easily she’s startled.

I can’t help that Ashley likes her fair share of marijuana, but it’s all right. I’ve seen her on webcam when she’s high, and she’s willing to go farther when she’s high than when she’s not, so I’m not too objected. Her hair’s short and layered, dyed to a reddish-orange, and her eyes are green. When she’s not stoned off her ass, she usually wears either a plain black or grey sweatshirt, but when she is, she’s willing to take that off for me so I can see what’s beneath— usually nothing.

Back when the MSN chatrooms still allowed minors, I met another girl, young at the time although she’s now 16, like most of my others, in a ‘we like older men!’ chat. She thinks I’m only 19— heh, if only she knew. Stephanie’s a relatively nice girl— does her homework relatively, is a dutiful daughter who has two bratty brothers, is “straight-edge,” and has medium-length strawberry blonde hair, light freckles, and blue eyes.

The nine of them have all chatted with me for at least a year, and somehow I manage to keep track of the different perceptions of myself I give to each girl— I’ve never made a mistake yet.

So today, with my Internet down, I look through my MSN logs, thinking of each girl in turn.

Some may call me a stalker, but truth is I’m no such thing. All I am is a man who likes to be kept company on occasion when he’s outside work, and who doesn’t have the money to hire a hooker. You might think I’m creepy, but personally, I like where I am and what I’ve become— I’m satisfied, on my lonesome with my nine “girlfriends.”