It had been forty-five years since Elliot tried to bring down Kiwi Farms. His eyes had withered to the point he could barely make out colors and shapes. His bones had crumbled to the point he could no longer stand without fracturing something. Thanks to years of estrogen poisoning, his muscles barely had the strength to use the dilator. The pain from dilation was so great his room needed to be soundproofed to avoid scaring the other nursing home patients with his screams.
The television flickered. While Elliot's eyesight was almost gone, his hearing was still good. The tech awards were on, and the keynote speech was to be given by... Joshua Moon.
The announcement alone gave Elliot the strength to force the dilator into his necrotic crotch wound.
Though deep in his seventies and fattened by a diet of pizza and Serbian alcohol, Moon was still hale and hearty. Elliot remembered, bitterly, how Josh and his merry band of Kiwis had thwarted his every move. He remembered the lawsuit that broke him, how Josh helped reform the Internet, and became instrumental in hardening it against people like Elliot. Oh, Elliot remembered everything. And hearing Josh wheeze as he walked, unaided, to the podium, his bones strengthened by genuine Serbian cheese, caused those memories to sting all the more.
Josh tapped the microphone, cleared the phlegm from his throat, and spoke a single word.
"Sneed."
Elliot's screams drowned out the thundering applause. He himself didn't know why he screamed. Maybe he didn't want to hear the applause that vindicated the fat man. Maybe he wanted to pretend the applause was for him. Maybe he activated the dilator before he was ready. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
All he knew was he had a mouth, and he had to scream.
