Below is a brief
excerpt from
When Leo Logged
On,
a memoir by
Susan Ashbaine
Chapter
10: Tides
Turning Tables |
... After we’d
each gotten our
eyes full, we
drifted back
into the chat,
where the
conversation
spiraled into an
impromptu
roleplay session
inspired by the
bare-skinned
snapshot.
We all took
turns pretending
to be a team of
masseuses giving
Leo a massage,
except for
Matthew, who
wanted no part
of it. Each of
us claimed a
body part,
describing in
absurd detail
how it felt
beneath our
hands. It was
surprisingly
entertaining and
had all the
hallmarks of
Paradise
Island-style
escapism, though
compared to
that, this was
downright
wholesome.
I was already
cringing from
the familiarity
of this sort of
topic when a new
name blinked
into the user
list on the
left-hand side
of the chat
window.
Blungo has
entered the
chat.
Hmm. Someone
we’d never seen
before… a
“24-year-old guy
from
California,” he
introduced
himself.
Gwen. Lost. Her.
Mind.
“Are you Leo?
Are you sure
you’re not Leo?
You sound like
you could be
Leo,” she
rapid-fired,
barely letting
him breathe as
he tried to
settle in.
He handled it
well,
unflappable and
calm, brushing
it off. “Nope,
definitely not
Leo. Just Blungo.”
But Gwen wasn’t
letting it go.
I toggled on the
private chat
feature and shot
her a message.
“Knock it
off. If it is
him, he won’t
like being
pestered like
that. Just
pretend he’s
just another
chatter, same as
anybody else.”
Gwen reluctantly
backed off,
though I could
practically feel
the room
crackling with
her excitement.
Blungo’s vibe,
on the other
hand, seemed to
relax a little.
We eased back
into the
conversation as
Blungo observed
our
interactions.
“Blungo,”
as he later
explained, was
an intentionally
flubbed version
of “Bungo” from
the British
kids’ show
The Wombles.
He never
elaborated on
why he picked
it, if
The
Wombles
actually had
some sentimental
significance to
him, or why he
had chosen to
alter the name.
“You know Leo’s
had professional
massages,”
Blungo
interjected,
sounding a
little
embarrassed by
the topic of
conversation. It
did seem
ridiculous that
he’d be getting
one from a pack
of silly fans.
“THIGHS,” I
blurted out,
reserving my
favorite of
Leo’s body parts
for this virtual
massage.
“Oh. You’re
that
one,” Blungo
replied, teasing
me in a way that
practically
radiated a
smirk.
I didn’t want to
overreact. I
didn’t want to
fall for a hoax,
what could’ve
been my first
brush with
something we now
know as
catfishing, but
this person just
felt
different.
It was the odd
way he dropped
details that
lined up a
little too
perfectly with
Leo, yet kept
denying it. He
didn’t act like
a fan. He
offered no
gossiping, no
over-the-top
devotion, not
even a passing
comment about
what he liked
about Leo’s
movies, nor did
he act like a
troll just
visiting to mess
with Leo’s
admirers.
And, he’d been
watching us.
| --Excerpt, When Leo Logged On, Copyright © 2025 Susan Ashbaine - All Rights Reserved. |
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