Memoir Excerpt

... After a brief look, we returned to the chat, where the conversation somehow took a sharp left turn into an impromptu roleplay session. 

We all—except for Matthew, who wanted no part of it—took turns pretending to be a team of masseuses giving Leo a massage. Each of us claimed a body part, describing in absurd detail how it felt beneath our hands. The whole thing was completely ridiculous, yet surprisingly entertaining. It had all the hallmarks of Fantasy 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 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—cool, calm, brushing it off. ‘Nope, definitely not Leo. Just Blungo.’

But Gwen wasn’t letting it go.

I flipped 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 screen crackling with her excitement. 

Blungo’s vibe, on the other hand, seemed to relax a little. We eased back into the conversation as Blungo unobtrusively watched 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 or if The Wombles actually had some sentimental significance to him.

“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, laying claim to 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—no gossiping, no over-the-top devotion, not even a passing comment about what he liked about Leo’s movies—nor 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.