“I was looking at your MySpace page today” said John.

“Oh yeah?” said Floyd, who was seated in his favorite chair, in his bedroom. John was sitting on the end of Floyd's bed.

“Yeah,” said John, “why aren't I one of your Top Friends?”

“You aren't?”

“No, I'm not and you damn well know it!” shouted John, getting stupidly angry.

“OK, I just don't see you as one of my Top 8 Friends” said Floyd, hiding his smirk behind a magazine.

“Change the amount of friends then!”

“Nah, that'll mess up my page”

“I think I should be in your Top 8. We talk every day, we've known each over for years. I so am one of your Top 8 Friends!” said John.

“Nah, you're ninth, honest” said Floyd, doing further hidings behind his magazine.

“I'm a better friend than Johnny Depp!” exclaimed John, “what the hell has he ever done for you? He's never lent you £20 and he's never done your homework for you. I have reason to believe that he's never done anything for you!”

“He has made multiple great movies. How many great movies have you made?” asked Floyd, no longer doing any hidings of smirks.

“Are we counting mobile phone videos?” asked John.

“No”

“Then, none”

“Exactly! When you make some great movies, you'll displace the Deppster, but until then, you're ninth” said Floyd, hoping some kind of flying monkey or dormouse would swoop through his bedroom window and devour John.

“OK, what about Denise? You two broke up months ago, she is still your Top Friend!” exclaimed John once more, John liked to exclaim a lot.

“That bitch is still on there?” shouted Floyd.

“Language!” bellowed a voice from downstairs.

“Sorry Granny,” shouted Floyd, “anyways,” turning to John and lowering his voice, “I thought I deleted that cunt! To the computer!” said Floyd as his arm shot up.

Although Floyd made a arm-thrusting-voice-raised fuss about going to his computer, it was really only a chair spin away. Floyd spun his chair and switched on the computer. Waited ten seconds. Entered his password, hiding his fingers and the keyboard from John. Waited a further thirteen seconds and then opened Mozilla Firefox.

John moved from the bed to sit next to Floyd, so he could get a better view of his admittance to Floyd's Top 8.

Floyd had logged in to MySpace and was viewing his Top 8. Denise was top and this irritated Floyd as he was sure he had deleted her.

“The bitch!” exclaimed Floyd, who was also partial to an exclamation now and again.

“Language!” shouted Granny.

Floyd clicked on 'Change My Top Friends'.

Floyd had 436 friends and now he had the task of picking one to be in his Top 8, displacing that bitch Denise.

A Top Friends list on MySpace is the juvenile equivalent of winning the Oscars. Many belittle the whole thing, but, only when they aren't a winner.

“Wow”, said John, “you have a lot of friends. Is that the real Joe Pesci?”

“Dunno, maybe? Probably not, I think he's dead, he hasn't made a movie in years”

“Doesn't mean he is dead” said John.

“As good as. To be honest, as long as he isn't working on a new album, I don't care” said Floyd, as he moved to page 2 of his friends list.

“He made an album?” asked John.

“Yeah”

“Download it!”

“Fuck No!”

“Language!”

“Go on, I wanna hear it!”

“No”

“Go on!”

“Look, you're not acting like a Top 8 Friend right now. You're acting like a dick” said Floyd, “oh look, theres Charles Bukowski, he's a far better candidate for my Top 8.”

“OK, I didn't really wanna hear it anyways” said John, who whenever he didn't get his way,he never really wanted it anyway.

Floyd did more clickings.

And John looked on, he swore that his profile was back one page.

“Fuck Yeah!” shouted Floyd.

“Language!”

“Sorry!”

“What?” asked John.

“Guess who is my friend?” asked Floyd.

“Err, Jesus?” said John.

“Jesus doesn't have a MySpace!”

“Does so”

“Doesn't”

“Does”

“Shut up. Anyways, Matt Stone. Yes, that's right, Matt Stone is my friend” proudly, Floyd gestured towards the screen to point at a little photo of Matt Stone.

“Na-uh. The South Park guy?” asked John.

“Damn straight”

“Is it really him?”

“Of course it is, why would someone pretend to be him?”

“To trick people like you!” laughed John.

“See, this is why you aren't in my Top 8. Matt Stone is now number 8!”

“No fucking way!” shouted John.

“Language!” screamed Granny.

“What the hell has Matt Stone ever done for you?” asked John.