Fruitsy the Elf’s 'cancel Blizzard account' Dilemma

Two Minute Fiction for All Nite Gaming Fans

Fruitsy the Elf gazed down on the forest from her cloudswept eyrie and heaved a sigh of despair.

“It’s no good,” she muttered to herself. “The world of fantasy MMORPG gaming fast collides with the world of politics and economics in ways that make slaying virtual enemies fraught with peril.”

Her doe eyes played over her Blizzard subscription details like she was in two minds, maybe even three.

“To cancel Blizzard account or not cancel Blizzard account — that is the question …”

Back in the day, Fruitsy had adventured with the best MMO heroes ever to be plucked by fantasy gaming from the imaginations of gamers.

DnD players, twitch celebrities and MMORPG enthusiasts marvelled at her achievements in far-flung worlds from beyond the fringes of reality.

But now she was about to throw it all away, while simultaneously milking her dilemma for maximum melodrama value like all elves are born to do.

She advanced to the edge of her eyrie’s uppermost platform and dangled herself from its edge by a glittering rope.

“To cancel Blizzard account or not cancel Blizzard account?” she asked herself one more time. “As a gamergirl, for sure that is the question.”

She paused to raise a hand to her brow and cast a sorrowful expression into the void.

“Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to snuff the slings and arrows of roleplaying fortune — or blank qualms about the sea of troubles bulldozing online gaming!”

That’s when the eagle from the Prometheus legend appeared.

He’d been flying around for centuries with very little to do, and the sight of Fruitsy’s eyrie felt like home.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, beating his mighty wings with such force that Fruitsy nearly plummeted to her doom.

“I have a cancel Blizzard account or not cancel Blizzard account type dilemma of the most excruciating magnitude,” Fruitsy replied.

The eagle laughed. “Not to mention a stereotypically exotic elven hairdo.”

“No fair,” screamed Fruitsy. “Either contribute something useful to solve my MMORPG gaming nightmare — or flap off!”

“This is a Two Minute Fiction piece,” said the eagle thoughtfully, “so solving your online gaming issue is beyond the scope of this particular format because my sphere of knowledge is almost exclusively related to tearing out the internal organs of Greek miscreants, and I’m certain it would take easily two minutes for me to even understand the nature of your problem, let alone apply reason with a view to coming up with the perfect solution.”

Fruitsy’s eyes flared with petulant rage.  “I’ll have you know that I’m a mistress of malefic and mysterious magical mayhem, so watch your step!  Are you aware of how many perilous adventures I’ve undertaken? How many times I’ve guarded the extreme rear flank of heroic questing parties by exuding a visually alluring shimmer?”

“Oh … you’re Fruitsy the Elf,” said the eagle, rolling his eyes as he flapped away. “That explains everything.”

Fruitsy’s head sank low.

Was this to be her fate forever?

To be universally miscast as no more than narcissistic window dressing despite her clearly powerful (and not at all ridiculous) elven heritage?

“What matter this cancel Blizzard account or not cancel Blizzard account gaming dilemma when the conundrum I must solve first cuts deep to the heart of my existential torment?”

Tears streamed down her face as she shuffled back to the forest, and the bells on the end of her toes chimed not.

Delusion’s grim reality had bested her once again …