The devil went down to Newport Beach, CA—he was lookin' for a soul to snatch. He came upon this young man tinkling the ivories of a keytar and playin' it hot and he thought, “Looks like I met my match!” The devil hopped up on a park bench and introduced himself to the young man. The young man said his name was Kyle and he told the devil he had inherited the keytar from his father when his father passed away 3 years ago. The devil exclaimed, “Oh, I know your father well, I’ve kept an eye on him for the past few years and I’ll keep my eye on him for all eternity!” The devil cackled up a storm. Kyle looked forlorn. The devil saw his opportunity and said, “Boy, let me tell you what: I guess you didn't know it but I play the keytar too and if you'd care to take a dare i'll make a bet with you. Now you play a pretty good keytar, boy, but give the devil his due...I'll bet your old man’s soul for yours ‘cause I think I’m better than you.” Long story short, they had the competition and now Kyle’s in hell with his father where they both belong. Worst part of hell? No W3 Thr33 Tr0lls!

Every day it’s the same, every day it’s the end of the world...your family doesn’t understand you...your church group thinks you’re a freak...your friends have forgotten you...you slip your earbuds in...thank god for W3 Thr33 Tr0lls! W3 Thr33 Tr0lls is your rock! It’s your reason for living!

Every day it’s the same, every day they chew you up and spit you out. Your bullies are many, your friends are few; in fact, it’s just you, you against the world. One day you’ll move to the city and meet other queerkin furries like yourself but right now you live in a small midwestern town and you’re on your own, kid. How to fight back? Ratting out your bullies never did any good, it only made the bullying worse. Your dad bought you a 9 millimeter for your birthday and told you to feel free to use it on yourself. 2 more years and you’re 18 and outta here. 2 more years until you hit the city and never look back. You throw the 9 millimeter into the lake so you won’t be tempted to use it. Walking back from the lake you slip your earbuds in. 2 more years of this...thank God for W3 Thr33 Tr0lls!

Day late, dollar short. Late. Late again. Your period is late again. And the bills are past due. Plan B was your Plan A but Trump took away funding for Planned Parenthood and your friendly neighborhood baby-killer had to close up shop. And now it’s too late. It’s later than you think. He’s late, said he had to finish up something at work. Again. You know where he’s been burning that midnight oil lately… You’d love to tell him “later skater!” but your period’s late. And the bills are late; past due, in fact. The hour grows late and the shadows grow long. Can’t put it off until later. There is no later. It’s too late.

The TV weatherman swore up and down the hurricane would swerve away from your city at the last possible minute; the television was wrong once again. The hurricane blew most everything away as it blew through town. Deceived by the TV, you elected not to evacuate. Luckily, your mama didn't raise any fools, you'd already stocked your home with the necessary provisions, namely a case of Mad Dog 20/20 and several dozen cartons of Twinkies that will never go bad. You smile to yourself as the power goes out because you had enough sense to charge your iPod. As the gunfire erupts outside your window and the screaming begins you slip on your headphones and fall into a beanbag chair, W3 Thr33 Tr0lls flooding your ear-holes...

You walk to the drug store to procure a fresh pack of razor blades. The cashier is taking FOREVER, doesn't she know you have something you NEED to be doing right now?! Oh, great, now she's making small talk as you tap your fingers on the counter impatiently. She rattles on impassively. How can someone be so clueless? How can someone be so HEARTLESS? You've had enough; you lash out at her. You tell her you are in a hurry and she needs to shut her word-hole and finish ringing you up before you gut her like the pig she is. The cashier looks like she's just been punched in the stomach. Fuck it, you think, as you shove the package of razor blades into your pocket and make a beeline to the exit. Security tries to stop you but you tell them to fuck off and keep moving; you know once you're out the store they can't do jack shit to you and what's it matter now anyway? You walk briskly home. You leave the keys in the front door. You run a warm bath, light some candles and remove your clothes. You slide into the sizzling H2O. You remove a razor blade from the package. It looks hungry. Feeding time, you say to no one as you press the blade against your wrist...just then you hear an alert from your phone; there's a new episode of W3 Thr33 Tr0lls to download! You brush the blade aside as you pop your ear buds in; suicide can wait...for now.

Choose your own MISadventure: It’s noon. You have a splitting headache. You just woke up. Do you: Face the day OR grab a fifth & an eighth, hop into your 1999 Ford Fiesta, crank up the W3 Thr33 Tr0lls & drive ANYWHERE, the choice is yours, choose wisely...

You only let him back in because he swore he'd keep his hands to himself this time...well, it's just 3 days later and here you are on your hands and knees cleaning his blood off the kitchen tile. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself but he just couldn't do it, the swine...you need a break from scrubbing the floor. You rise to your feet. You light a Virginia Slim. You taste the smoke. Tastes like freedom. You pop in your earbuds, crank up the volume and listen to W3 Thr33 Tr0lls on repeat as you scrub his blood from the sticky floor. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Every day it's the same. Roused from slumber some time before noon I make a beeline for the nearest liquor store, which is helpfully located right across the way. I buy a fifth of anything cheap; if it rots my guts it goes down the hatch. Booze procured, I stagger back to my house across the street. I lurch into the front door and draw all the curtains. I turn on the TV and it's already tuned to Fox News sans sound. I take my first pull from the bottle and slip my headphones on. I press play on the iPod Shuffle. W3 Thr33 Tr0lls fills my ear-holes as endorphins flood my brain. I am complete.

I'd like to teach the world to troll in perfect disharmony...