080-SONE-AWAY - Sone Away Services

That's right kids, it's time for another Kpopalypse fanfiction!  This one's for all you SNSD fans, plus all of those who have been asking me for methods on how you can emotionaly deattach yourself from a fandom!  Read on and be entertained (or not)!

You're female, 28 years old, Korean and most of all a Sone - and that's a problem for you.  You know this now.

It took you a little while to realise.  When you first discovered them seven years ago, your love of Girls' Generation didn't seem like it would be a major negative quality issue for your life.  You loved the group, the individual members, their songs, their music videos, their concerts, their TV appearances, all the products that they endorsed, you bought yourself one of those "Cooky" phones, you wore your SNSD backpack on the bus (a few derisive stares but who cares), you were happy.  All was well in the world.

Then life changed.  Adult responsibilities started creeping in.  You graduated from university and landed a job at a real estate firm.  You were happy to finally see real money and the end of the studying life, but now you had daily commitments and schedules to keep that couldn't simply be brushed aside to watch SNSD TV appearances or chase the group around Seoul in a taxi.  Then to complicate matters further, you met a guy and became romantically involved.  Dating hours and SNSD activity hours were forever coinciding, and working your dinner-date schedules to fit around SNSD's schedules proved impossible.  Sometimes you would just have to cancel.  Other times, you would attend and sit in the restaurant silently, waiting for the food to arrive while thinking of the SNSD content you were missing out on, feeling glum.

"What's wrong?  Are you okay?" he would ask, noticing your faraway gaze.

"No... it's nothing.  Don't worry."

"It's that fucking group again isn't it?  It's just a bunch of girls singing and dancing, what's the big deal?"

"I'm sorry... it's just... Girls' Generation's spot on Music Core is on tonight, and I'm just wondering how it's going."

"I wish you'd worry so much about how we are going", he replied, the bitterness in his voice barely concealed.  "Can't you just watch it later?"

"But if I'm watching it when it happens, it's like I'm part of it, somehow.  I feel more connected."

"But you're not.  It's just a TV show, nothing more."

The same argument, every time... however the straw that broke the camel's back was when Jessica left... or got booted out, but you're certain that she left, because she's a selfish bitch.  How dare she leave, what gives her the right?  The news hit you like a ton of bricks - you took the next fortnight off work and stayed home and cried.  And cried.  And cried.  In an ever-changing world, SNSD's solid lineup was like the sun rising in the east, a reliable and steadfast entity that you could always count on to be there, a comfort amidst the chaos of existence.  Suddenly not having your Divine Nine there for you was unthinkable, like the sky falling, a knife straight through the heart.  Sick of not getting his texts and calls returned, your boyfriend (at the insistence of your very concerned parents who also hadn't heard from you and had also been contacted by your work asking where you were) broke down the door to your apartment, to find you curled up in a fetal ball on the floor in front of your refrigerator, with the door ajar and the cold blowing in your face, very much conscious but seemingly mentally on another planet.  The lights were off and the entire apartment's walls were covered in black paint scribbled text, the words "Jessica", "bitch", "slut" and "whore" being most prominent.  It's funny because you don't remember painting any of that, in fact you don't even remember buying the paint or the brushes.  The whole incident seems like such a distant memory even though it was only the other week, or month, or however long it was... you're really not sure, your sense of time was hazy during those moments.  What you are sure of is that once you recovered from the initial shock your boyfriend gave you an ultimatum - it's SNSD, or it's me.

If it was a few years ago, that would have been an easy decision - you would have picked SNSD for sure.  However you're a bit older and wiser now, and you can see that leaving the Sone life behind might actually be in your best interests - it's affecting not just your relationship but your financial security with a combination of missing work, sasaeng taxi fares plus buying tons of merch and 30 copies of every album so you can have all nine photocards.  Then there's the extra time commitment of being constantly active on fan forums, available for voting competitions so you can vote thousands of times for SNSD and support them, etc.  You can clearly see that being a Sone has evolved far beyond simply liking the group - it's become a second job, one that you are paying for.

However, there's a difference between rationally realising that being a Sone is no good for your life, and emotionally being able to deattach yourself from SNSD to the point where you can function without the group as the most important thing in your existence.  You wonder if you're going to be able to do this on your own.  So when your boyfriend emailed you the following advertisement, along with a heartfelt plea to consider it for the good of the relationship, you didn't delete the email right away.

You'll think about it, but you won't dial the number... at least not yet.  Maybe you can kick the Sone habit on your own, you'll give that a try first.

-

A few weeks go by, and here are your achievements to date:

• You've cancelled membership of your favourite SNSD online forum.  Well, okay - you didn't really cancel it, you just put up a big long post saying that you were leaving and why, and you won't visit there from now on.  Or at least for a while, until you recover.
• You unfollowed a couple friends on Twitter who were always spamming requests to participate in voting for SNSD, often these requests were bordering on emotional blackmail so you're glad to be rid of them because being told you were a "bad fan" was freaking you out.
• You've cut down your SNSD listening/viewing time to no more than one hour per day, which you are adhering to strictly.

It's a small dent, but hey it's a start.  You're not ready to go cold turkey just yet.  You will ease yourself off SNSD gradually.

You're sitting at home one evening after work when all of a sudden you hear a tune: "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY"... your mobile phone is ringing.  You haven't gotten around to changing that ringtone yet.  You make a note to deduct the seconds before you pick the phone up from your allotted SNSD listening time for the day, and quickly take the call.  It's from SoneLyfe888, one of the other old forum members.

"Hello?"

"They beat us!  They beat us!"  SoneLyfe888, a 14 year old fangirl and diehard Sone, is on the other end of the line and is sobbing.

"Who?  What do you mean?"

"BigBang!  They must have hacked YouTube!  Fantastic Baby has..." - the rest is an inaudible mess of sobbing and phone-line distortion, however you know exactly what this phone call means, because it was a hot topic of conversation on the forums just before you left.  Your heart sinks.

"I don't believe it.  Let me look..."  You can feel the dread rising in your stomach as you rush to check YouTube, where your worst fear is confirmed.

You go to say something, but you can't find the right words.  It doesn't matter anyway because you are quickly cut off:

"Why am I ringing YOU for, you don't CARE anymore, anyway!  You BITCH!"  SoneLyfe888 terminates the call loudly in your eardrum, perhaps she threw the phone.

The tears begin slowly at first, but soon start flowing.  SNSD have lost one of their main claims to fame - the highest number of hits from a k-pop group on YouTube, it's a crushing moment.  Soon you're sobbing uncontrollably on your bed, with "Gee" on infinite repeat, SNSD allocated listening time be damned.  This shouldn't be affecting you so much, but it is anyway... you make a pact with yourself that in the morning, you will ring 080-SONE-AWAY.  You're way too emotional to do it right at this moment.  You sob until you can't stay awake anymore, the twinkling synthesizers of "Gee" ringing in your ears.

-

The next morning you force yourself to eat breakfast, even though it's the absolute last thing that you feel like doing at that moment.  Actually it's the second-last thing you feel like doing, because the very last thing you feel like doing is what you do immediately after you finish breakfast.  You pick up your phone and dial the number.

A recorded message begins.  "Thank you for dialling 080 Sone Away.  We're here to help you!  In just a few words, please state the nature of your enquiry."

You don't know what to say.

The recorded message continues.  "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.  In just a few words, please state the nature of your enquiry."

After a pause to gather your thoughts, you mutter "Sone".

The recorded message continues.  "I'm sorry, I'm still having trouble hearing you.  In just a few words, please state the nature of your enquiry."

You speak louder, it's awkward talking to a machine.  "I'm a Sone, I need help!"

"That would be an enquiry about being a Sone.  Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay.  Putting you through now."

The recorded voice ends and another recording begins.  "Thank you for calling 080 Sone Away.  Your call is very important to us, so please be patient.  If this is an emergency, please hang up now and dial emergency services.  Please note that calls will be monitored for quality and training purposes.  Please tell the operator if you do not wish for this call to be recorded."  The voice goes away and some hold music begins - BigBang's "Fantastic Baby".  No doubt this piece was chosen deliberately.  You sigh and wait.  A couple minutes of waiting later and you are connected.

"080 Sone Away, how can I help you?" asks a woman with a thick Amero-Indian accent.

"I'm a Sone, I need help."

"Sorry, we can't help you be a Sone.  This is 080 Sone Away.  Please check the number and dial..."

"No, I mean that I want to stop being a Sone."

"Oh, okay.  Putting you through."

"This isn't the right number?"

"It is, but we just handle general enquiries here.  You need to speak to Sone Away Services."

"What?  What's the difference?"

"Putting you through, won't be long."

You are placed on hold.  "Fantastic Baby" plays through the speakers again.  Ugh.  Another recorded message then begins.  "Did you know that Sone Away Services has a 100% success rate with no relapses?  We're always here to help you beat your addiction to the SNSD fandom!  Please stay on the line while we...." the recording is cut off by an operator.

"Sone Away services, how can I help you?" asks a woman with a thick Amero-Indian accent, which is nevertheless slightly different-sounding to the woman you spoke to earlier.  She speaks slightly slower and higher-pitched.

"Hi, I'm a Sone, and I need help!"

"Sorry, we can't help you be a Sone.  This is Sone Away..."

You cut her off.  "No, I mean that I want to stop being a Sone!"

"Oh.  Okay, I'll send you out an information pack."

You're nearly in tears.  "But I need help!  Can't somebody help me?"

"Don't worry, the information pack will have all the help you need.  We'll even courier it to you so that you get it today.  Your address please?"

You give the person your address, feeling somewhat reassured.

"Okay, we'll send that out to you this afternoon.  Will you be home?"

"Yes.  But what's in the information pack?"

"Oh, I couldn't tell you.  We just send them out.  But don't worry.  Sone Away Services has a 100% success rate!  Nobody ever rings us twice!"

"Oh.  How do I pay?"

"Oh, it's free!  Don't worry, preventing Sone insanity is government funded!  Anything else I can help you with?"

You're sure that there is but you can't think of anything.  "No", you sheepishly reply.

"Thank you for using Sone Away Services!"

The lady terminates the call and a recording cuts in.  "Thank you for your call.  If you have time, please stay on the line for a brief customer satisfaction survey, which will only take one minute."
You hang up, and sigh heavily.  At least that's over with.

-

That afternoon, you're having a nap when you hear loud high-pitched barking waking you up - your tiny yet faithful dog Baekhyun (named so you can brag on forums "I ship a family member with Taeyeon") is reacting to someone at your door.  You go to answer it, it's a courier with a parcel under his arm.

"Sign here please."  The courier hands you a tablet and a stylus pen, and you make a signature.  He gives you the parcel and then leaves.  You rush into the bedroom and open the parcel.  The contents include a letter:

The following carry case, which is quite heavy and obviously contains a gun:

Which you only know because there's also an instruction manual for the gun:

And this signed photocard of Jessica Jung, that ex-SNSD bitch traitor:

What's the point of all this?  Are they suggesting that you shoot yourself?  Or SNSD?  Or Jessica?  You sift through the packaging again, and between the layers of cardboard and bubble-wrap there's no explanation anywhere of why the pistol or the photocard has been sent to you.  Maybe there's something in the gun case but you refuse to even open that, sliding it under your bed along with the instructions, hopefully to be forgotten.  You've never fired a gun in your life and you don't intend to start now.  You focus your attention on the letter... no SNSD at all, cold turkey?  And exactly what "support" are they going to give you?  It doesn't make sense.  You get your phone out and dial 080-SONE-AWAY.

A recorded message begins.  "Thank you for dialling 080 Sone Away.  We're here to help you!  In just a few words, please state the nature of your enquiry."

"Gun", you say.

"That would be an enquiry about being a Mine.  Is this correct?"

"No, I said a gun, not a mine!  Why do I get sent a gun?"

"Sorry, 080 Sone Away is only for Sones and does not cater to other fandoms.  Goodbye."

The call terminates with a click.  You dial again.  A recorded message begins.  "Thank you for dialling 080 Sone Away.  We're here to help you!  In just a few words, please state the nature of your enquiry."
 
"Sone", you say loudly.

"That would be an enquiry about being a Sone.  Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay.  Putting you through now."

You wait while the message about the call being recorded plays.  After a few minutes, an operator appears on the line.

"080 Sone Away, how can I help you?" asks a man with a thick Amero-Indian accent.

"Why did I get sent a gun?"

"Sorry, this is not a gun shop, I think you have the wrong number, check the number and..."

"No, it's from Sone Away, I received a package, it has a gun in it."

"Oh.  You shouldn't have a gun.  Are you sure the package is from us?"

"It came with a letter from Sone Away Services.  It even said that you don't provide ammunition for it."

"Okay... let me speak to my supervisor."  He puts you on hold.  After a couple minutes he returns: "Sorry, I'll have to transfer you.  Give me just a moment."  You wait while you are transferred.

"Sone Away services, how can I help you?" asks a woman with a thick Amero-Indian accent.

"I called and was sent a gun.  Why was I sent a gun?"

"You called 080 Sone Away?"

"Yes."

"Sorry, we're Sone Away Services.  We don't provide anything like that, you're in the wrong department.  Let me transfer you..."

"But you're the one who sent it, I have a letter..."

"Those are just generic letters ma'am, we don't provide firearms.  Now please give me a moment and I'll transfer you to 080..."

You hang up on her.  It's too hard to talk to these people, you'll just keep the gun under the bed - it won't harm anyone under there, especially with no bullets for it and you not knowing how to use it.  In the meantime you realise that you forgot to ask the questions about what exactly they will do to help you not be a Sone.  You really couldn't be bothered ringing back and going through all of that again though, so you forget about it.  You're sure the answer will become clear in time, for now you concentrate on doing your best to forget that SNSD exist.  It's difficult but you stay away from all SNSD content for the rest of the day.  Your dog Baekhyun's hyperactivity provides a useful distraction (he seems more animated than usual, for some reason), and thinking about the gun probably also helped.

-

A week goes by.  It's proving difficult to stay away from SNSD.  Not listening to the music, okay, you suppose you can handle that... not watching the girls' live stages on TV is harder, but hardest of all is not talking about SNSD, because it denies you the opportunity to vent your pain and grief of losing the Sone fandom to anybody.  Every day that you don't is a special day for you, a day that you no longer are a Sone - but there's nobody to share this revelation with.  You've cut off all contact with your ex-fandom and your boyfriend sure as hell doesn't want to hear it, he forbids you to even mention the word.  A dark cloud hovers over your psyche.  So one night after work you sneak a peek at the online forum that you were once a member of... just to see what the reaction is to BigBang getting more YouTube hits:

TiffanyIMBF: I'm sad.  I can't brag to my friends who like BigBang now.  :(
Genie4yrwish: I took down my BigBang posters today.  I don't like them anymore.
SoneLyfe888: It's OUR FAULT, we didn't support them enough!  Everybody go to Gee right now and watch!  Make sure you watch the video from the beginning to the end or it won't count!  Also don't use Adblock or it won't count!  Watch no more than once every five minutes!  Don't use bots or page refresher programs!  Delete your browser history and cookies between each viewing!  We can reclaim the throne, Sones!
Soneontherange: I cried all day.
Taeyeonfapper: We shouldn't be making a big deal out of thi.... hahaha just kidding WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS BULLSHIT BIGBANG HAVE MEDIA PLAY SAEJEGI HAX SHIT
OT84EVA: It's a good thing that I have my fandom to support me in times of crisis like this.  What would we do without each other to get each other through the hard times.
Yoloswag420: Wow, fantastic baby.

Reading makes you upset - you miss the good times of associating with the Sones, your only friends before you gave up the Sone life.  Living is unbearable without your friends.  Surely just one message won't hurt?  But no, you have to be strong.  You look at the replies to another post, the one where you said goodbye to your fellow Sones:

TiffanyIMBF: We'll miss you!  Good luck!
Jessicaisaslut: Please come back to us!
Taeyeonfapper: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
SoneLyfe888: You fucking bitch, you've betrayed the Sones, right when we needed you most.  Don't think you can ever do that.
Seohyungod:  Don't leave!  No!
OT84EVA: :( :( :( :( :(
Yoloswag420: People who make big posts about how they're leaving forums never fucking leave for any length of time.  If you really mean it just shut up and fuck off, bitch.
Soshimoshimoshi: Why would you want to quit being a Sone?  That doesn't even make any sense!  You can't be addicted to being a Sone!  It's not like a drug or something.

You're touched - they mostly really miss you.  Craving the social interaction you've denied yourself, you can't resist typing a small comment:

It's been a week, I'm doing well so far!  Please don't hate me for it, I still love SNSD, I just need a break for a while!

A few replies come quickly:

SoneLyfe888: You can't leave.  I won't allow it.
Jessicaisaslut: Please come back!  We miss you!
Yoloswag420: I called it.  Next time fuck off for real, and don't post about it like an attention-whore.  Nobody cares.

You think about replying again to these comments, when your concentration is broken by a tune: "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY"... your phone.  You've received a text message.

They're looking at your Internet activity?  You quickly get off the Internet and you don't use it for the rest of the night.  How did they know?  Demerit points?  Nobody told you about anything like this!  Still, if it helps you kick the SNSD fandom, you'll go along with it - after all it's not like you have anywhere else to turn, and they do have a 100% success rate, or so they say.  You're not sure how they'll achieve that with you - you've tried to be as good as you can be, but it's hard and the SNSD cravings aren't going anywhere.  Sensing a full relapse coming, you try to amuse yourself with some TV (not idol shows, you're too scared about SNSD appearing) and do your best to cleanse your mind of Girls' Generation for the rest of the night.

-

The next morning, you wake up and go to work as normal.  When you come home your dog Baekhyun greets you by the doorway.  His smiling face and hyperactive demeanour always cheers you up.  Just as you walk through the door and close it behind you, a tune: "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY"... your phone.  One new message.

What consequences?  You look around the room.  Everything seems normal.  You certainly feel normal - you're missing SNSD of course, but apart from this today doesn't seem odd.  You boot up your computer and go online.  Your email is normal, your connection is normal, even your SNSD forum membership (you briefly access the website just to check that you can still log on before hastily closing the window) is still intact.  What consequences?

You ponder the question for the rest of the evening.  The answer eventually comes to you, just before bedtime when you step into the bathroom to shower and your ever-loving canine companion Baekhyun comes to sniff at your feet and you see him from an angle that you didn't observe him from earlier that evening.

You scream.  Baekhyun had four legs yesterday, it can't be!  After a few minutes of freaking out, you look closer at the amputation site.  It's neatly stitched - not an accident, but a professional job.  Tears flow while your mind races.  You left Baekhyun indoors, so whoever did this must have gotten inside your house.  You quickly run around and look for signs of a break-in, but everything seems as secure as it did this morning when you left the house, there are no broken locks or opened windows.  Who knows you well enough to enter your house so easily?  Maybe someone you know?  You try to think, concentrating deeply... when all of a sudden: "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY"... your phone.  You've received a text message:

It's from SoneLyfe888.  Before you left the fandom, you two used to be good friends, she even has a key to your house because "the Soshi bond is like family", that's what you both used to say to each other.  It must be her who did this... it certainly matches the threatening way that she's been talking on the forum lately, and you can't think of anyone else who it could be off the top of your head that could enter your house without a key.  She's the only one with a key, nobody else has a key, not even your boyfriend.  Now you understand what the gun is for - protection from crazy Sones who won't let you leave the fandom alive.  You race into the bedroom and drag the gun case and manual out from under the bed where you stashed it.  You open the case... the gun is there, but in several individual pieces.  Fuck - you're going to have to learn to put this thing together somehow.  You open the manual:

Confusing as shit.  Now seems like a good time to give your boyfriend a call, you could use some assistance.  Like almost all Korean guys, he used to be in the army, he should know what to do.  You dial his number.

"Hello."  He sounds less than impressed to hear your voice.

"I need your help!" you exclaim.

"This better not be an "identify the variety show appearance" game, I told you before that I don't want to hear about Girls' Generation..."

"No, it's not that... I need your help... technical help.  Do you know how to assemble a gun?"

"What?  Why do you need to know that?"

"Well, I have a gun but it's in..."

He cuts you off.  "YOU HAVE A GUN?"

"Yeah... the quitting service... the one you send me, they gave it to me when I joined.  But it's in pieces.  Can you help?"

A long silence.  Then your boyfriend speaks, his tone of voice completely different, much more sympathetic.

"Oh my god.  I'm so sorry.  You've started quitting and I didn't even know about it.  Why didn't you tell me?"

You start crying.  "But you said you didn't want to hear about anything about SNSD..."

"Hey, if it was THIS news I would have been okay with it!  I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you.  I'll come around straight away.  Why are you trying to get a gun assembled?  Is someone trying to kill you?"

"I don't know.  Maybe.  The fandom is crazy."

You talk some more on the phone and then he comes over, bringing tools and ammunition for the pistol.  He gives you a quick demonstration of how to load, unload and aim it, and mentions how proud of you he is that you've started quitting the Sone fandom.  You promise to try your hardest, as well as to carry the gun with you at all times.

"Why don't we go out tomorrow night for dinner?  We should celebrate your journey on the road back to sanity", he says, just before leaving.

It would be an insulting comment in any other circumstance, but in this case it fits, and deep down you know he's right.  "That would be lovely, I calmly accept", you say.

-

The next morning you're woken up earlier than usual, by a familiar sound: "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY"... your phone is ringing.  It's TiffanyIMBF, one of the more sane members of the SNSD fandom.  You take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi!  Look, I know you're quitting being a Sone and all that, but I just wanted to tell you something..."

"Sorry, I can't talk about SNSD.  I'm not allowed to."

"Oh, okay.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay.  It's not your fault, you didn't know.  I have strict rules I have to follow."

"Sorry to bother you."  TiffanyIMBF hangs up.

You're glad that she didn't push the issue or act nasty like SoneLyfe888, but you also wonder what it was that caused her to ring you.  Although she's nice on the forum, TiffanyIMBF doesn't ring you often, in fact hardly at all.  I guess it was something that meant a lot to her.  You browse the Internet over your morning coffee, and what she wanted to tell you becomes immediately clear as every site you visit is assaulted with demographically-targeted advertising that looks like this:

You check the official website and the first stop on the group's massive world tour is at a concert venue just down the road from where you live!  You can't miss this... but you don't want to get caught by that crazy SoneLyfe chick either.  You ring TiffanyIMBF back.

"OH MY GOD SNSD CONCERT!  IT'S RIGHT NEAR US!  Can you buy me tickets?"

"Sure.  You can't buy your own?"

"No, I'm not allowed.  Quitting rules... but if you buy tickets and meet me there, nobody will know.  I'll give you money when I see you."

"Okay, that's a deal.  Anything for a Sone!"

You hang up.  Hopefully you can get away with this.

-

On your lunch break at work, you check your phone for messages (it's on silent at work, so you don't hear "Cooky").  There are two messages from Sone Away Services:

Your heart sinks.  Your phone calls are being tapped!  The two messages are only minutes apart from each other - what could have happened so quickly?  You take the rest of the day off work, and race home as fast as you can, to check on things.  Baekhyun meets you at the door, he still has his three remaining legs, much to your relief.  Drawing the gun, you wander from room to room - your house seems in good condition, no sign of any intruders.  After a while, you relax, and most of the afternoon goes by, when you look at your phone again.  You forgot to take it off silent, there's another message, this time from your boyfriend:

You forgot all about this!  You get ready as quickly as you can and arrive at the restaurant somewhat late.  He seems pleased to see you, but nervous and jittery - a long way from the confident person you knew yesterday.

"What's wrong?" you ask him.  He responds by holding out his hand:

You gasp in shock.  "So what happened?  Who did this?"

"I honestly don't know.  I was at home, then I felt something hit me on my head and I went out cold.  When I woke up, this."

You're horrified.  How could this be happening?  Surely your ex-military boyfriend would have been sharper than this?  You decide to say nothing for now, but this can't continue.  The desire for revenge swells inside you.  In your mind, you begin to formulate a plan.

-

It's the day of the big concert.  You've been good - you've stayed away from everything Sone-related until today.  You're in the concert hall foyer, squeezed into a far corner amid the crowds, somewhere that you can get some relative privacy.  TiffanyIMBF is with you, having just collected your concert ticket money.  You've asked her to keep an eye out for SoneLyfe888 for you, although you haven't told her why.  You also have your phone with you, and your gun (the venue didn't search you very thoroughly).  You dial 080-SONE AWAY.

A recorded message begins.  "Thank you for dialling 080 Sone Away.  We're here to help you!  In just a few words, please state the nature of your enquiry."

"SoneLyfe888, I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Okay.  Putting you through now."

The recorded voice ends and another recording begins.  "Thank you for calling 080 Sone Away.  Your call is very important to us, so please be patient.  If this is an emergency, plea..."  The voice cuts out and an operator comes on the line.

"080 Sone Away, how can I help you?" asks a man with a thick Amero-Indian accent.

"Listen, cunt.  I'm on your program, and I'm at an SNSD concert!  I've got tickets!  I paid full price!"

"Sorry, to whom am I speaking?"

"SONELYFE888 I KNOW YOU'RE BEHIND THIS!  YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!" you scream at the operator.

"Please do not get abusive at me, or I will have to terminate the call", the operator says.

"I'M COMING FOR YOU!" you scream.

"Sorry, goodbye" says the operator, as he terminates the call.  In the meantime, people have started staring at your weirdly.  You tried to pick a secluded space in the foyer but it's very crowded with SNSD fans, and they're all staring at you, the woman screaming at her phone.  You scowl back at their judging faces, looking for SoneLyfe888 in the crowds, when your concentration is broken by a tune: "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY".  You've received a text message.

You notice that TiffanyIMBF is looking at you especially weirdly.  She then starts running away, into the crowds.  You begin to chase her, but then you're pulled up by a force from behind you which is dragging you by the hair.

"Hi, slut."  The voice is instantly recognisable.  It's SoneLyfe888.  She must have heard your screaming and snuck up behind you.  How could you be so stupid?  Surprisingly strong for a 14 year old, she roughly drags you into the men's toilets and slams you up against the urinal, and then starts kicking you in the chest and stomach with her boots.

"You FUCKING BITCH SLUT CUNT WHORE!" she screams, landing a new kick to your ribs with each abusive epithet.  "You can NEVER leave the Sone fandom!  NEVER!  NEVER!  NEVER!"

You can feel your ribs cracking with each kick.  You reach inside your bag, attempting to find the gun, but it's too deep and you can't reach like this while being kicked.  Instead you find something thin and sheer, laminated... a photocard.  You hold it up.

"Signed photocard - look." you gasp, struggling for air.

SoneLyfe888 stops kicking you and looks at the photocard.  "Which one is that?"

You flick your wrist and fling the photocard over to the other side of the urinal.  SoneLyfe888 scampers over to pick it up and examines it.  After a few seconds she screams "FUCK YOU!  This is a JESSICUNT card!  You piece of SHIT!  NOBODY CARES ABOUT TRAITOR JESSICUNT, SHE'S EVEN MORE OF A TRAITOR THAN YOU ARE!"

SoneLyfe888 turns back to face you and administer more kickings, but the photocard throw was all the distraction you needed.  You've managed to somehow draw the gun in your bag and point it at her.  She sees it and stops, frozen in shock.

"This is for 080-Sone Away", you grimace.

"What?", says SoneLyfe888.

"And my dog.  And my boyfriend."

"What the fuck are you talking about, you stupid bitch?"

"Don't play dumb", you whimper.  It hurts to talk at normal volume.

"What?  WHAT?"  She's screaming at you with a combination of anger and confusion which seems all-too-real.  She's either a great actress, or you've fucked up somehow.  Who knows which, you really can't think straight right now, laying in a urinal with broken ribs about to end someone's life.  Oh well, she did threaten you, and she did try to kill you, regardless of how deep she is in any of the rest of it, so you figure that she deserves to die anyway.  You unload a dozen shots in her direction, just like your boyfriend showed you.  Only about three or four bullets actually hit, but it's enough - she slumps to the ground, motionless.

Gradually steadying yourself, you get up, and after about a minute you limp your way out of the toilets and back through the foyer.  Your chest is really hurting.  You become vaguely aware of the opening notes of Girls' Generation's "Mr. Mr." leaking through from the concert hall area, under the thin doors separating the foyer from the concert hall.  The entire foyer area is deserted - everyone present must be in the concert hall watching SNSD.  Just as well, probably nobody heard the gunshots.  You get halfway to the door and realise something - you're actually more excited to be alive than you are about SNSD playing in the next room from you.  Maybe you're cured after all, you think to yourself.  Then something hits you on the head, knocking you out cold.

-

You wake up.  You're lying down on a bench, in a room, with lots of clothes in it.  It looks like some kind of built-in wardrobe or dressing room.  Maybe you're backstage somewhere, you can hear SNSD somewhere in the distance, playing "Genie", it's thudding through the walls.  Your chest still really hurts, and now your head hurts too, you're in excruciating pain.  There's a girl in front of you.  She has brown hair and is holding your gun.  She's talking to another girl, with black hair and a beanie, who otherwise looks almost identical.  They're arguing about something.

"Hey, I was paid a good contract for this.  You're not going to steal my money!" says the girl with the brown hair.

"I'm getting paid too!  Why should I give that up?" replies the girl with the black hair.

"How much?"

"$18000."

"Well, I'm getting $25000 from Sone Away, so fuck you, I'm not giving that up."

"Do you think that if we both shoot her at the same time, we can both claim our contracts?"

"We've only got one gun, which is hers.  Thoughtful of her to provide it, I was just going to smother her."

"Well, you've got the better contract.  What about if you kill her, and we split it?"

"Then I only get $12500, fuck that.  That's so shit for a job like this, there's so much risk involved.  Who is paying you and has the hide to only offer $18000?"

"Some girl on the internet, Sone Life or something."

"That's all she can do?  She must be brokesville.  Guess those Sones just spend all their income on merch all day.  I tell you what, team anti-Sone is loaded.  They even got their own call centre."

"SoneLyfe888 is dead", you groan, inadvertently spitting out blood in the process.  Both of the girls turn to look at you immediately.  They look like you've seen them before but you're not sure where from.

"Really?" the girl with the brown hair asks you.

You nod.  "I shot her in the men's toilet."

"That's her?  Fuck."  The brown-haired girl turns to the other girl.  "Well sis, looks like your contract is cancelled."

"Fuck.  That'd be right." the girl with the black hair sighs.

"Hey at least our decision is easy now.  I promise next contract, I'll leave it for you, okay?"

The black-haired girl sighs again.  "That's what you said last time."

"I mean it this time.  Look, can you dial 080 Sone Away for me while I take care of business?  I hate dealing with the call centre."  The brown-haired girl points the gun at you, while the other girl gets on the phone.  You're too broken to fight your impending death, you can't even stand, and it seems like it would be a good release at this point anyway.  You listen to the black-haired girl on the phone.

"Report a kill....  No, not KissMe, a KILL.   No, I said... I'm not a KissMe!  Oh fuck it... fucking machine, now I have to dial again."

"Just swear at the voice-detection thing, it'll put you straight through to a human." the brown haired girl offers.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it works.  They program that in on purpose.  If you're swearing at the machine, they figure you're angry about something, so you get the priority queue and you get seen to quicker.  A girl who worked there told me that trick."

"I'll try it."

"You'll still get the wrong area most likely, but you'll usually get the wrong area anyway.  The first centre is just a funneling service to all the other services, it's the second person who does the contracts."

The black-haired girl dials again.  "Fuck cunt shit faggot bitch...   Yes, I'd like to report a kill.  Okay, I'll wait... Yes, that's her...  is she what?  What do you mean is she dead?  I'm reporting a KILL!"

"Actually, she is still alive.", says the brown-haired girl.

The black-haired girl looks at you.  "Oh.  Yeah, she is alive actually.  Okay, now I feel stupid.  Guy on the phone... yeah sorry I was talking to someone else here... please hang on a moment."  The black-haired girl takes the gun off the other girl and quickly shoots you a few times in the stomach.  You don't even feel it at all, your whole body is overcome with a sense of numbness.  The girl who shot you then bends over and looks at you in the eye, prising your eyelids open slightly to check your consciousness level, and then gets back on the phone.  "Yeah, well she is now.   Do you do direct credit?"

You can feel yourself fading out of existence.  The voices of the girls on the phone drifts away, you become more conscious of the background, the cheers of the crowd muddled by the walls, the bass thump encore of "Into The New World" penetrating the tiny dressing room.  However the very last thing you hear is "oh cooky, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind HEY COOKY"... your phone's familiar SMS alert.  You've received a text message: