SAN DIEGO, CA—After a rather productive day of writing two articles, one of which proved to be highly controversial, B/R writer Eric Gomez toasted his success with a few beers at his neighborhood bar.
"First round's on me!" Gomez yelled out to his friends, not realizing he had done so loud enough for all of the bar's patrons to hear him. He would soon be on the hook for $309.34 worth of alcohol.
Later that evening, Gomez trekked back home and promptly logged on to monitor feedback to his articles. He discovered a shocking and upsetting event.
"I logged on, went straight to my profile—and I had 35 fans," he explained, looking down and shaking his head.
"This morning I had 36. I—I don't know what happened." he continued, covering his mouth in an attempt to hold back tears and squeaking noises.
After a moment he used to apparently collect himself, Gomez pulled out his cell phone and placed a call.
"Hello, 911? Yeah. I know you usually have to wait 24 hours to report a missing person, but I can't wait that long. One of my fans is missing," he said, pausing to silently await a response.
"My name? Eric Gomez. What? No, I'm not a singer. I'm a writer. What? No, I didn't write that episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond.' I'm a sportswriter. Bleacher Report dot com.
"Oh. Well, actually, it's this open source website, so uh—technically, I'm not a professional. What? Well, yeah. See, there's this little system where people can choose to be your fans. No, it's not a little like MySpace. No, I'm not 16. What? I can't hear you over all the laughing. What?
Undeterred, Gomez leaped from his chair, located his jacket, and stormed out of his apartment.
"This isn't over. I'm going to find him...or her. I'm not sure who stopped being my fan. But I'll know when I see him...or her. I'll know."