Dr. Michael Amore is known for many things: his penchant for dishonesty, his deceitful persona and his unsuccessful foray into the world of virtual love. You may remember the advertisement published in this paper a year ago—he fooled me too—rallying UMass Boston students to purchase his patented Virtual Romance Technology which promised to give the user their ideal romantic experience. Of course, like everything else the man has done, it turned out to be a massive scam.
After facing numerous lawsuits, he was forced to pack his bags and move back to England where he hoped the hassle of finagling an international trial would shield him from the collective wrath of 1,000 hopeless romantics. However, as of a few weeks ago, Amore has disappeared, leaving not a single trace behind in his London apartment other than some empty beer bottles, 700 Bob Ross Chia Pets and a personal diary.
Not knowing where Amore vanished, and hoping for the worst, his landlord mailed the diary to me—seeing as I was the only journalist lazy enough to have trusted Amore’s credibility—to show all who may read this how pathetic and despicable a man Amore had been. The following words are those of Amore and Amore alone.
5th October 2023, Weather: Cloudy
I saw her again today. She was leaving Harrods. Every morning, in at 10, every evening, out at 6. What is it about her that captures my heart? I only ever see her briefly. Leaving work, waiting for the bus among all this filthy city air. She doesn’t belong here. I don’t belong here. We… NO! Bad Michael!
If only it hadn’t been for those bloody students! That wretched university! Those accursed lawsuits! I’d be a millionaire… or more! Then she… my sweet Harriet is what I’ll call her, she would come away with me, and she would be happy living under the loving gaze of her one-time secret admirer. Secret admirer? SECRET ADMIRER! YES! That’s it! An anonymous dating app where users can pay to discreetly stalk their… NO! Bad Michael! Bad Michael!
22nd November 2023, Weather: Smoggy
My cat has been drinking Ross Water every day, for the past two days, and I have noticed some startling improvements to his well-being. What is Ross Water, you may be wondering? It began with a Bob Ross Chia Pet, a much-needed companion in such a dark time. Then, I caught my beloved feline, Mr. Kritters, lapping water from Bob’s Tupperware head holder. He just couldn’t get enough! I think he liked it! That was when it hit me, “Dr. Michael Amore’s Ross Water for Cats!” My next business venture!
Who am I kidding? I’m a disgraced CEO of a fraudulent company living off of pizza pockets in a rat-infested flat. Can I really risk another failed enterprise? I’m sure Chia would expect a cut of my profits, or the Ross estate would come hounding me for royalties. Just in time for my next mental breakdown, I might as well change my last name to Green. I’ll become an urban photographer and conjure up some frivolous lawsuits of my own. No! My sweet Harriet! I must sell Ross Water! I must succeed in winning the heart of my beloved!
25th December 2023, Weather: Wet
Merry Christmas to me! The scientific effects of Ross Water reveal themselves in droves. I’ve been drinking the substance three times per day for the past two months and I’ve never felt more alive! I’m starting to consider expanding beyond the demographic of cats and marketing the miracle liquid to all thirsty bodies. But still, more work is required.
Currently, I am in possession of a mere 23 Bob Ross Chia Pets, for which I milk their savory sweat daily. But alas, I need more Bobs! I’ve already bought out the local superstore of their supply and they seem hesitant to order more. Fools who dare stand in the way of progress! I’ll place an order. An order to Chia themselves. I’ll need as many as I can get my hands on!
11th January 2024, Weather: Zombies—Just Kidding!
My many weeks of careful planning have reached their culmination and it is, at last, time to feast on their succulent fruit. I waited for her at the bus stop by Harrods. When she arrived, I followed her onto the bus. Second level, three rows up on the right. This was her usual spot and I sat across from her. I cleared my throat, “London streets can be cold without a coat. Why don’t you wear mine?” She ignored my chivalrous act. Of course, she had already been wearing a coat, but it wasn’t MY coat.
She had no idea of the significance of the coat. No idea that I would have forgotten to retrieve the coat from her before getting off. No idea of the letter instructing all finders of the coat to return it to my flat at 19 Longfellow Drive. No idea of the 700 Bob Ross Chia Pets that would await her when she inevitably turned up with my coat!
I tried to convince her, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. Then she yelled at me. Screamed, really. I don’t know what she said, I didn’t really care. Blabbering on about this and that and something about a deranged little creep and then… fiancé. FIANCÉ? RUBBISH! What an ugly word to have left the lips of my sweet Harriet. I leaped up at the next stop, thrusted my coat at her and disembarked. I will let her come to me!
23rd January 2024, Weather: Grey
My shipment of Bob Ross Chia Pets came in today. You should have seen the look on the postman’s face when I explained to him my need for them. Ha! Some people will never understand my genius! Things are really starting to look up. The next step is to get some investors on board!
24th January 2024, Weather: Kill Me
F—! F—! F—! Those American sons of b—es found me! Letters flooding in under my bloody door! It’s not my fault he wore the f—ing headset in the tub! What kind of romance simulation is that? Was he in there with Elmo and his rubber ducky? F—ing Americans! I’m glad that dimwitted college d—face died of electric shock!
And to make matters worse, Mr. Kritters sh— the bed today, and I don’t mean that he took a sh— in a bed, I mean that piece of sh— f—ing died. I meet with potential investors literally next week, and do you have any idea how bad it’s going to look to have the thing that’s been fed exclusively Ross Water for the past three months six feet under in a cardboard shoe box? I’m f—ed!
2nd February 2024, Weather: Take a Guess
This is the single worst thing that has happened to me since being born. I met with the investors today and they laughed at me. They told me that even if I were the last businessman on Earth, they would rather have unprotected sex with a promiscuous meat grinder instead of investing in me. Maybe it was the lawsuits from the Romance Tech. Maybe it was the dead cat. Who knows. And this wasn’t even the worst thing that happened to me today.
When I got back to my flat after the meeting, I found my trench coat on the doorstep. My sweet Harriet! I had missed her! Upon further inspection, I discovered a note from the local police who had returned it after finding it in a dumpster. That f—ing b—! How dare she take my hospitality and throw it away! Her image has been forever soiled in my mind! I don’t want this Harriet, for this Harriet isn’t MY Harriet! I want MY Harriet and I will have her! So I decided, I’m leaving. I’m leaving this stupid, bloody world, and I’m never coming back. For anyone who might ever read this, yes, it was your fault. Get f—ed!
Update: Dr. Michael Amore was found living in a run-down, Liverpool motel. He was reportedly delirious, having lived the past few weeks exclusively in a simulated world of his now-recalled, Virtual Romance Technology. Upon being detained, he was transported to the United States—the British government didn’t want him—where he was checked into the Bridgewater State Hospital for the criminally insane where he will await trial for his many business crimes.