AN: This story is dedicated to the flamer that has been flaming my story about killing flamers. You've proved yourself an idiot and now anyone who reads this will know it, not that anyone doubted it in the first place.
And really, how much of a life don't you have if you are taking time to actively hate for no reason other than to prove you can?
On a side note: I've recently replaced chapter sixteen of my 'Johnny vs' story- the chapter that is now it's own story and started this whole thing- with some anti-flamer Haiku. So if any of you wonderful people are interested please go take a look.
As for you flamers, go suck an egg and stop pestering people. If any of you had talent enough to even attempt to write at a higher than preschool level you would know how nauseatingly annoying you really are. It's not like what you do does anything more than inflate your own overweening egos anyway. So please, stop flaming and seek out professional help, we all pray for your heads to be successfully removed from your asses.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything related to JTHM I would have the power to wipe out those incessantly whiny and attention hungry bastards that choose to waste everyone's time by dumping their meaningless opinions all across the internet and destroying everyone's good time simply because they are too stupid to go out and garner themselves a real personality, but those people are still out there so that proves that I don't own JTHM.
An Author stared morosely at the latest review to her story about killing off all flamers: it was a flame from someone too cowardly to give their user ID and be confronted by those that they chose to bully and harass.
Why couldn't these douche-bag egotistical narcissists just get over the fact that they had no writing talent themselves and leave those who were at least making an effort to try alone?
With a sigh the Author closed down her computer and decided to do something about her flamer since no-one else would.
Looking Senior Diablo's home address up in the phone book she headed out.
"Have fun!" She called out after the retreating couple that had agreed to help her in exchange for her assistance in babysitting little Pepito for the night. How much trouble could one little anti-Christ be, anyway?
"I want to play Scrabble." The be-horned child said causing the Author to pale in abject horror, this was going to be a long night.
On their way to the restaurant, Senior Diablo and his wife stopped by a dilapidated house and passed on an address to the man who lived there.
And Johnny was all too willing to help out.
Nny loved killing off bullies, and taking out cyber bullies was even more fun.
In a hovel that smelled as bad as it looked sat a flamer in front of a computer screen giggling like the idiot they were over how they were ruining someone's day with a touch of their keys.
They never noticed as a dark shadow came up behind them.
An hour later Nyy exited to horrible dwelling that made his rat infested abode look good and climbed back into his car, he then drove into the sunset in the knowledge that the World was just that much brighter for what he had just done.
Inside the building sat the deserving flamer still at their computer, only now they were tied to their chair with electrodes taped all over.
Electrodes wired into a program now running on the computer.
The program trolled all the writing sites- from fanfiction sites to blogs to independent writers sites- and every time it detected a flame it would send jolts of electricity coursing through the flamer's body. Not enough to kill, mind you- we wouldn't want them getting off that easily- but enough so that their screams would carry out into the street as a warning to any who wished to attack anyone else while standing behind the veil of anonymity provided by the internet.
AN.2: Now for a quick math lesson. Don't worry, it'll be fun.
Flamers = Bullies
Bullies = Someone who should be shot in the head
So, in conclusion: Flamers = Needs a double tap to the head like the bitch that they are.
This concludes todays math lesson.