Being published chapter by chapter on Michael Allen Online, Joker Joker Deuce is a psychological thriller about an internet stalker who uses the right apps to find his victims who have no idea he’s coming, and there is only one grave connection between them.
Once the last chapter is published on Patreon, it will be released in hardcover, paperback, and ebook. But you can begin reading it now and stay tuned to get updates as the story develops.
Enjoy an excerpt:
A dusty lamp on an end table cast a dim light throughout the room, what could only be considered a dungeon deep down in the isolation of a dark basement. Wood paneling decorated the aged walls where a floral couch sat off to one side. A half-empty pizza box was left open on the bulky oak coffee table in the middle of the floor. He was sitting at what he liked to call his workstation, complete with two monitors and a different computer attached to each one.
Above his head hung a framed picture of Elliot Rodger, a famous incel who had killed six people and injured fourteen others back in 2014 near the campus of the University of California, Santa Barbara. His absolutely chaotic killing spree came to an end when the police found him dead in his vehicle with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Underneath the picture of him, a small bronze plaque was fixed that read, “The Supreme Gentleman, Elliot Rodger!”
A slender man with a buzz cut and a birthmark that looked like a scar on the right side of his face, Jeph was steadily studying the monitors sitting in front of him. On the computer screen to his left, subjects scrolled down the page on a forum called Inceldom. Jeph suddenly stopped on one that caught his attention, “Annoying stacy thinks she’s an actual incel.”
Rubbing his birthmark, he read the subject to himself again as he shook his head. When he clicked on it, his browser opened into a new window where he began reading the remarks other members had posted.
“She’s not an incel. She can have any normie she wants. She’s a selfish bitch who wants a chad.”
“Whaa! Stacy says EWW when one of us asks her out. But cries about being alone.”
“Oh look, another roastie who didn’t get enough attention. Women are so subhuman.”
Jeph cocked his head and started typing. His keyboard clicked with each key he punched in rapid succession like a master typist. When he submitted his comment, he pushed himself away from his desk, rolling across the floor on his office chair.
On the computer was a new comment left by Shutter, “She got pumped and dumped because that’s what her disease-filled bonehole deserved. Stacies need put in their place and I’ve been done with sitting around talking about it.”
He turned and grabbed a slice of pizza. As he took a bite and looked back at his comment on the screen, he heard a ping from his other computer. Rolling his chair back over to his desk, he looked at the right monitor, moving his face closer to the screen.
A tab was open on the Lookbook website. Jeph hovered his cursor to the top of the screen and clicked on the Wink tab, where he found a nearly empty inbox with only one new message. The subject read, “Samantha wants to meet you!”
A slight smile grew across Jeph’s face as he hovered his cursor over the message, drew in a breath, and clicked in to read it, “The site says we are compatible. Write me back if you’d like to find out.”
Jeph nodded subtly as he clicked on Samantha’s profile and cocked his head while taking in all the images she had posted of herself. He reached up to one specific selfie and put his finger on her face. Rubbing it slightly up and down, he admired her sharp eyes and perfect lips. Then, he took his finger away and began to read her description, “Must love dogs…can dress up and go out or stay in and watch movies at home…college student at Bridgeport…our first date can be just for a cup of coffee to get to know each other.”
Jeph’s bottom lip curled slightly in interest of what he had seen so far. He pointed his cursor to the message form and clicked. As the cursor blinked on the blank form, Jeph was in deep thought about what words would make the perfect message. Not too much. Not too little. He scratched his head, and his eye twitched involuntarily as he studied the screen.
He rubbed his chin and stared at the blinking cursor that was becoming more obnoxious with every paralyzing moment. Then, he simply bowed his head to the keyboard and began to type, “I’m glad you wrote. It looks like we just might be compatible. Getting a cup of coffee together sounds great. Do you have a favorite place?”
Breathing heavily, heart pounding out of his chest, he clicked on the “Send” button, and off his message disappeared into internet oblivion. For a moment, he sat rocking back and forth in his chair. Then, he got up and did a little dance as if he had just been awarded a trophy for winning the game going on in his head.
Inside the Bridgeport University Student Center was a massive area with a lounge where students could find vending machines full of power drinks and coffee to fuel their tired minds while they studied. Entering the actual study area, though, not too many students actively engaged in learning but thought of it more as a place to find out where the next party was in hopes of hooking up. Around the large room of bookshelves lining the walls with couches, matching chairs, and coffee tables throughout were cliques laughing and joking like college didn’t mean a thing. Floaters bounced from clique to clique like the most popular kids in class. Had they realized they were no longer in high school? With a smartphone in everyone’s hands and everything else but college on their minds, did they even care?
That is except for at least one studious lady sitting by herself in the middle of the room. She was a scholarly-looking freshman with glasses and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. She wore the obligatory Bridgeport University tee shirt and white shorts that highlighted her tan legs that glistened from the low light overhead. At least, that’s all any of the guys around the room saw when they looked her way, like a bunch of salivating wolves who had no idea how to keep their hormones in check.
She was innocently biting her finger while reading a book and slowly turning the page. Then, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back to crack the stiff muscles that were tight from holding her head in one position for so long. She put a bookmark between her pages and closed the book as a cute yawn started across her face. When she placed the book down on the table beside her, she stretched her whole body in a very sexy motion that had the attention of every guy around the room.
When her phone beeped, she reached for it beside her in the chair. She scrolled for a moment until she came to something that caught her attention. Shaking her head with a slight smirk, she tapped the screen. Then, she dropped the phone to return to its place by her in the chair.
She noticed a guy staring at her from across the room when she grabbed her coffee to take a sip. She gave him a strange look and then picked up her book again. As she opened it to her page, she glanced at the guy once more. He turned away quickly. With an eyebrow raised and a shake of her head in disgust, she returned to reading her book.
As Jeph browsed Inceldom, he came across another topic that interested him. He stopped scrolling and scratched the back of his neck. The subject of it read, “Roastie found murdered.”
A subtle twitch jerked his cheek as he studied the words. He slowly shook his head and then grabbed the mouse. As he hovered over the subject, he scratched his forehead in deep thought and then clicked the link. Images of a dead body filled his computer screen.
He took his time scrolling through them all until he reached the message, “Where did you get these? This isn’t even on the news.”
Another member wrote, “Leak from PD. They’re keeping it confidential.”
Jeph scrolled back up to the pictures and browsed through them all again until he heard a ping on his other computer. He looked over to spot the alert on his “Messages” tab. Sliding slightly over to center himself, he clicked on the tab, and suddenly, his face turned to stone. Anger slowly started in his eyes until a voice forced itself out of his mouth, “What the hell? Don’t send me shit then!”
The message on the computer screen read, “RE: SUBJECT: Samantha wants to meet you! Unread Deleted.”
Jeph walked his chair back away from the computer. He put his hands up like he was trying to grab air. What started as whistling breath escaping his lungs soon turned into a pathetic scream that quickly turned into a tearful fit, “Games! You fucking bitches and your games!”
After his tantrum had run its course, he studied his computer for a moment. Then, he walked his chair back up to the computer and grabbed the mouse. The tears in his eyes were gone, and in their place was a hard stare.
Like a master sleuth with all the technology anyone could need in front of him, he browsed back to Samantha’s profile on Wink. As he looked through the pictures, he chose one that he clicked and held with his mouse. Then, he slid it up the screen to his search engine tab, dropping it into the images search engine. Several similar pictures came up in the search, but the one he wanted was her Lookbook profile he had just found.
Reading every word with patient determination, he nodded his head in confirmation to himself before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. Unlocking his security, he searched for the Where The Hotties Are app. Then, he minimalized it to open the Lookbook app. When he found Samantha’s profile, he copied and pasted her profile name into Where The Hotties Are.
On the app, a pin popped up on a map. He spread the map apart with his fingers to zoom in on her exact location at “Bridgeport University.”
With anger on his face again but with a hint of satisfaction, he said, “Got you! We’re going to have that date anyway.”
Across town at the university, our lonely blonde student finally took her eyes off her book and tilted her head back, stretching her neck. With the book on her lap, she leaned forward and touched her toes, stretching her back. Sitting up and drinking the last of her coffee, she finally resigned and started packing her things into her bookbag.
She stood up and slung the bookbag over her shoulders before looking around and grabbing her phone from the chair. When she started walking toward the entrance, the ogling creep from across the room caught up to her.
In his smoothest voice, he asked, “Heading out?”
She looked at him as she continued to walk toward the door, “Uh yeah, looks like it. That back there when you were staring at me, that was me staying. This with my bag walking toward the door, this is me leaving.”
Trying to stay cool, he played back, “Was it that obvious I was staring?”
Quickly, she replied, “Stalker level.”
“My bad. Can I make it up to you and get you a coffee?”
She glanced at him and then replied, “Um, no. I’m good. Just finished one.”
Unwilling to give up, he tried again, “Come on. Are you sure? I just want to make it up to you.”
With a strange look on her face, she replied, “Make what up to me? What do you need to make up to me?” That’s when she saw the security officer at the door and made eye contact with him.
The persistent admirer continued, “Uh, well. Back there. You know. You said I was staring.”
Shaking her head, she replied, “Yeah, you don’t have to make anything up to me. That’s more like a line.”
Just not getting the picture, he kept trying, “A line? Well, maybe.”
As Tracy passed security, she made it clear, “Not interested.”
As if deaf, he tried the other option, “It wasn’t a line then.”
The security officer held his hand up and stopped the stubborn lover boy from continuing along with her. As she walked out the door, she repeated, “Not interested.”
The security guard nodded seriously before advising, “Why don’t you give it a rest? She’s clearly not interested.”
As she walked down a poorly lit sidewalk with bushes and moving shadows, she could hear footsteps and whispers that she couldn’t make out. She looked around, but no one was there. She started to walk faster, and the whispers followed, making her heart race and her mind conjure up dark imaginations. She couldn’t get home any faster.
Suddenly, three faceless brutes popped out of nowhere. Startled, she jumped and let out a slight scream. They each looked at her with seriousness in their eyes. Their faces becoming clearer to her, she trembled as she looked back at them.
“What the hell,” she yelled.
“Sorry,” one replied as the rest began running again.
She watched as they ran away, wrapping her arms around herself to feel her heart pounding in her chest, “I just need to get home.”
Finally, there it was. Her dorm in the short distance with one light over the door to guide her way home. She opened the door, the portal to her safety and comfort. She stepped inside and let the world close behind her.
Dressed in dark clothes that weren’t too conspicuous, Jeph carried his brown leather gym bag from the side door as he left his house. In his driveway was a beautiful 1971 Dodge Polara sitting underneath a single lamp above the garage. Jeph placed his bag in the trunk and climbed into the car.
Placing his phone on the holder attached to the dashboard, he pulled up the map to check where he was going. He started the car and turned around to look out through the back window before hitting the gas and reversing out of the driveway.
Looking at his phone while he drove, it guided his way. He found himself pulling into a parking lot where the map said he was right at the spot. He studied the map and then at the building in the distance with one light above the door.
“Well Samantha, you wanted to meet me. Here I am.”
He grabbed his phone and climbed out of the car. Walking across the parking lot with deliberate steps, he was a man on a mission. He reached down and grabbed the knob as he twisted with determination and abruptly opened the door.
Our blonde freshman was halfway down the hall when she was startled by a loud bang behind her. Turning suddenly to look, fear gripped her as she saw a dark silhouette standing at the open door. With her eyes still adjusting to the light, she could hardly make out who it was, but it made her feel uneasy until she realized it was Dawn, her roommate, coming home from a drunken night out on the town.
Swaying back and forth as she walked, Dawn was a mess with her tousled hair and clothes half hanging off of her. She was doing her best to walk in a straight line but failing miserably. Looking up, she finally realized she had company, “Tracy! Girl, you need to hit it with me one of these times, you bitch. Always studying like you’re going to college or something.”
Tracy shook her head and laughed as she doubled back to help her highly impaired friend to the room, “Come on, girl. I got you.”
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