TikTok tactics

Alice was in trouble. She was floundering. She was sinking. The worst possibilities her friends had suggested were no longer abstract potentials. They were concrete and absolute. Waves of probability had collapsed and now formed the violent landscape she had failed to navigate.

Her TikTok views were in the toilet. She should have paid attention to the algorithms. It was clear to Alice that viewers hadn’t subscribed to watch her makeup tutorials but to see Mr. Fuzzy Bottom upstage her. He was the real social influencer, not her. She ruined it all by

making that video where she talked smack about Mr. Fuzzy Bottom while simultaneously showing off how to do a perfect batwing eyeliner. No one cared about her stupid makeup, she realized. She was being canceled for her remarks about her TikTok nemesis. Why did no one understand?

There was only one thing for it, she would have to frame Mr Fuzzy Bottom. Drag his name through the dirt for all Tik Tokkers to see, then the tables would be turned. All she needed to do was hack into his Tik Tok and

Delete the source code, it was fullproof. Only one problem, Elmo The Mob Boss was in town and might be fustrated if I take out Mr Fuzzy Bottom.I'd need someone to take him out before I frame Mr Fuzzy bottom...

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," fluted the voice of the purple-furred, lemon-nosed cashier. "Do you... want fries with that?" I glared at her, just some dumb college muppet clearly unable to appreciate the genius of my grand plans. "You'll see. Papa Elmo's days are numbered, and then I

will be the new boss in this town,” I said in a hushed voice to the pencil-thin muppet with the orange shock of hair tied up on my floorboard. “No fries, kid.” “You don’t want anything do ya?” I asked my former lab assistant. A muffled, “meep,” was all he could muster.

"I know things got kind of smelly on this one, Beaker, and I'm sorry." He just blinked. "I tried to run a better lab than your former boss, but it's not easy. I guess I failed. You are I are the only ones who know what happened here, and that's one too many." A sad "meep" escaped

his thin lips and for a moment, I considered that what I was about to do might not be necessary. Did he really have to die? He might be able to keep a secret. And even if he spoke the truth, how many people could tell a truthful "meep" from a lie?

I was wrong everyone found out. But how? I asked him but he ignored me. Why would he do this to me?