Trollin Train

Trollin Train was a fake troll forum, established on 27 July 2010, which Chris frequented under the trollsona "JenkinsJinkies". He eventually gave up on posting, afraid that when jerkops "busted" the forum they would mistake him for a troll.

Trollin Train is an excellent example of both Chris's naïveté and his ego. His JenkinsJinkies persona was instantly recognized by the trolls due to his narrow grasp of the English language, and taken advantage of from the start. Furthermore, his arrogance led him to believe that all of the trolls had immediately fallen for his ruse and that a fourteen-year-old sodomist who had moved in directly across the street from Chris would fit in perfectly with the secret trolling circle (because in Chris's mind, all trolls are really angsty gay children). Needless to say, the JenkinsJinkies teat was milked for all it was worth and Chris went along without ever realizing it.

Chris's Posts

Hey, Everyone! J.J. has arrived. (Thu 29 July 2010 12:19 AM)

A new thread in which Chris introduces himself:

First, let me say I am most humbled to be welcomed among my fellow Troll Kind. Well, let me tell a bit more about myself for starters. My real name is Junior Jenkins (Scooby-Doo was the inspiration behind the "Jinkies"). LOL. I had a birthday recently on the 16th of July, so now I'm 15. I couldn't celebrate it with my friends like I would have wanted to, because I was hitchhiking my way to Ruckersville from Boston. I'm crashing at a house where I have some relatives there (They're the fucking Black Sheep of the family, and they're not close within the same house. It is cool, because they won't rat me out to my parents and siblings. Like I need another damn minute with those assholes who overlook me). And a better part, their house is across the street from Chrissy's house. Sadly, though, the blinds to his bedroom are always closed, but I still get some sights of him and the family out of their house. I've arrived at my new home a few days ago on the 20th. I'll be spending my Sophmore year and so on in Greene County's High School. I promised I'd write to my gal back in Boston, but what happens here she doesn't have to know. I'll have to make some new friends come September, but I'll be cool; I'm a stud! I'll also miss my favorite duo of dudes, Jerry and Dino. They taught me the ropes of high school life; they both were 16. I looked up to them (like I would have for my older sister if she wasn't such a fuckin' cunt). They were a gay couple, and they respected me as a friend only. I made it my Final Realization I was not gay with the help of Jerry and my girlfriend, Lisa. Sweet little whore took me in with gratitude on my 14th birthday. She had a few exes from Middle School, and her mom was a Bondage Queen. Before then, I had a gay experience in Summer Camp when I was 7. My bunkmates were experimenting, and made me their mo-fo unwilling guinea pig. I was blindfolded during the whole thing, feeling an 8-year old's dick up my ass. I was not thrilled from the ordeal. But last January, I became curious from the recalling of the feeling, so I asked Jerry to show me a night. At first it was neutral, then he made out with me; his breath was minty with a hint of garlic from something he ate; it was cool with me. Then he told me to suck his dick, and I did; the taste and sight did not thrill me. And he sucked mine. He got a rise out of me, but then I started to feel uneasy. It was minor at first, and I promised myself I'd see this through. Finally, he was in me doggy style. As he humped me, I was feeling it both in my penis, and in my gut; worsening as he went on. And eventually, I embarrassed myself grossly. I came AND fucking threw up simultaneously. Jerry had not come yet himself, and out of respect, he withdrew himself and asked me if I was okay. He cleaned me, and my mess on his floor up. I felt soo damn ashamed, but Jerry was kind and understanding to me. And it was then I confirmed it for myself that I was not gay, and Jerry and Dino agreed with me. So with that, I was able to move forward feeling more confident in my orientation. Anyway, after moving here, I have studied the times of exits and entries from the Chandler Chateau, looking for a pattern. There was definitely one with Robert, morning for breakfast at B.K. and afternoon outings to I.D.K. where. Barbara appears to come out mostly either in the afternoon or night; sometimes in the mornings. And Chris has no set pattern as far as I can tell yet. But I'll post new stuff as I learn them, some with (hopefully embarrassing) photographs of Chris as I learn and take. Smell ya later, Junior Jenkins "Jinkies".

Hey, guys (Sun 22 Aug 2010)

Another new thread. Parts of this message were very clearly dictated to Chris by Bob. In it, Chris makes the absurd assumption that the trolls are animal abusers, and was snapped at by the trolls in response.

I've been keeping watch over Christian's house for any consistent patterns or LULZy details. I had seen none, even when I went over there while no one was at home. Although, I did mess up the cats a bit by stepping on their paws; the scratches and bites were worth it. All of the doors were locked (big surprise). Their garden was a big jungle (only half my height, though; about 2 feet high max). I found no incriminating evidence in their garbage. But recently, I made a call to their house and pretended to be a fan of Sonichu. Bob was bored I guess, and he talked to me. After mentioning the Trolls, Bob said to me, "Sissies that hide behind screen names and the internet are the biggest bunch of cowards and the scum of the earth. They are afraid to come out one-on-one, face-to-face. They would hide behind their mothers' skirts." Then he directed to one of our own he found out somehow, "Females are the worst; such as Miranda "Enjoy The Big Pickle" Cosgrove." That surprised me greatly, but in defensefor you, Miranda, Bob would be of no match against you. Then Bobby said, "Meet me in person at Burger King in Ruckersville Any Day between 9:30 & 10:30 AM, and I will talk to you and your friends and answer your questions. Christian and I are not afraid and have nothing to hide. We are simple and above bored." We chatted some more and then he hung up. I'd say let's troll Bobby further to get to Chrissy. I went there this morning; he was civil and gave me some info on Chris, such as that he has a complete collection of the United State Quarters on a Map (What a dumb way to save money). He also calls Chris a good boy (I agree with him; he ain't grown up). And, ooh, this is a good one; Chris tried to roller skate, and fell multiple times, even though he did a lot better on Ice Skates at the Ice Park (a class he took at PVCCitizens). I'm sure the more of us that go to Bobby and talk to him, the more information we can get out of him about Chrissy for our schemes. I'll continue to keep watch and let y'all know when something new and lulzy comes up. Junior Jenkins.

Damn! (Wed 25 Aug 2010 5:42 AM)

In response to a thread announcing that Chris had discovered Trollin Train:

Chris found this Forum?!!! I agree with you, Miranda, what if Chris doesn't download our virus at all; he's reading our plans, he may just boycott downloading ANYTHING new from ModNation or LittleFuckPlanet. And even IF Sony doesn't read what he wrote, they are aware of our shit as well. I tell ya, he ain't hiding, he's snitchin' on us for the fuckin' "good" of every lazy fuck on the PSN. Anti-Viruses can be put into any next Update now. Plus, Chris may come out of hiding and make a video to put the close on our fuckin' repeated death rumor. And I have noticed something else, with my Laptop, I managed to use a bit of his Wi-Fi (it goes all around his yard). It Disappears Nightly, and sometimes Daily. He's Unplugging his Internet, keeping us out. I have to hand it to him, he makes it Frustrating to Troll Him. It's like we have to PAY AirFare or HitchHike Dangerously and do it Old-Fashioned with Accordian Cameras and shit like that.

The "virus" he mentions was in reference to a thread in which trolls claimed to be putting viruses into LBP and ModNation DLC that Chris would be likely to download. Note that cameras with bellows have not been used by trolls since 1912; Chris may have been listening to tales from Bob, but this seems unlikely.

That plan is NO GOOD (Wed 25 Aug 2010 5:48 AM)

In response to a thread about digging up Patti:

I personally took a closer look at Patti's grave; it is Harder to break in than fort fuckin' knox. the body is buried deep underground with Cement Blocks covering the site, and her HEAVY Dog House is on top of those Cement Blocks. I wouldn't be surprised if they Cemented her grave as well. Also, the site is Heavily Surrounded by Trees and Heavy Branches; it's like Deepest in the Mine Shaft with Cave-Ins happening all the time.

Nah, dude (Thu 26 Aug 2010 4:55 AM)

In response to a thread about getting The Bear to call Chris "Mr. Poopy Head" so that Chris would have to rename himself to "Mr. Poopy Head Weston Chandler". The post was likely made in the wrong thread, as it appears to be a response to Christian Weston Chandler: 1982 - 2010

Do you really think he's that retarded? To perform a Repeated Act is fucktarded. Like we ALL know he is alive; I am watching him, his family and his house daily; it is POINTLESS and Redickulous to remake the Rumor of his death. We should Not Repeat performances, because he will be Expecting them and Knowing very well to ignore the Trite Fucktardedness.

Hey, the Equipment and the Digging (Thu 26 Aug 2010 5:12 AM)

In response to the same thread about digging up Patti:

It's all no good; the neighborhood is Very Often Quiet. The noise will be heard by someone, if not the Damndler family; someone would call the Police on us for sure. Besides which, I was Haunted by the spirit of the dog AND the child Monday Night. I went over to Chris's house with a flashlight that Night. I'm trekking through the daylilly garden aisles, searching for more bad I can do about the house. When suddenly, I hears a voice, "Hello". I look around and see nobody. I am Terrified. Then suddenly, I am fucking paralyzed; my ankles and wrists are pulled to my left and right, feeling like there were other people's hands holding them down on a floor, and I feel a pair of hands on my Neck too; strangling me, yet I can still breathe. Then the voice comes back, "Hello, Mr. Troll." It is the voice of a child, about 8 years old. I struggle to look around, yet I see nobody. I'm fuckin' shittin' my pants here. The voice continues, "Do not be afraid of me, like the teachers of the Elementary School were; they did not understand me and my mind. I want you to understand my mind..." Right after, I see a lot of strange images going through my mind. Including the images of an abusive babysitter called "Roache" locking me alone in a static room; a therapy session at James Madison University; the teachers, guidance counsoler and principal of Nathanel Greene Elementary School holding me down and taping my screams and more. I tried to scream, but Nothing came out; it was a Scream of Silence; I could not even utter a WORD in Normal Voice; Only Silence. Next thing I knows, I am knocked back onto the cement block trail of the garden aisle, by the weight of a big dog, yet there was no dog. Wrists, Ankles and Neck still being hand-held, the child ghost leaves my mind, and then I hear a deep womanly voice, Growling at me as I smelled the stench of a dog's breath surrounding my nostrils. The voice says, "Do not mess with my master, my family or me, you infidel!" Next, I feel the sting of the dog biting into both of my ankles, one after the other. At that moment, I struggle back, leaving behind the lit flashlight I dropped earlier when my arms were being stretched out. And I limp as fast as I can back to my house, closing and locking the door behind me, gasping for breath and dripping with sweat. I limp to the bathroom with the shower and look in the mirror; what a gross mess I looked like. And I see a Big, Red Rash on the right side of my neck, and rashes on both of my wrists, from the hands that held them in place. And my pant legs were ripped, and he saw on both of my ankles rashes, and Teeth Marks of a Dog. I tried to scream again, but it was another silent scream. And I was unable to speak at all for Four Hours. I have encountered the Spirits of Young Christopher Weston Chandler and Patti, protecting the Chandler Household. I warn you all right here and now, Stay Away from his house, and Patti's Grave. It is NOT worth it to have to suffer the Nightmare that can render you as damned silent as the Autistic child. And Patti is definitely not friendly to our dark kind. I tell you only the truth, my friends.

Dudes, you are not gonna believe this. (Sun 29 Aug 2010 1:22 PM)

Another new thread, posted as a part of Chris's half-baked plot to get over nine thousand dollars for destroying his PS3:

Even I could not believe it, but I was an Eye-Witness to Chris Smashing his own PSTriple. I had just gotten home from an outing with my family, when at about 4:00 on the afternoon of this Saturday the 28th, I saw Chris walk outside of his house with his Camera in one hand, a pair of workers gloves in his back pocket, and his PS3 in the other hand. I was curious, so I followed him to his backyard, where I watched from behind the gazebo. Thank God I was not seen by him. Yet Fuck Me for forgetting MY Camera. Anyway, he had taken a busted Air Conditioner from his Junk Pile, placed his console onto it, placed the tripod to one side and detached the camera from it to get a close up of his fat face. I don't remember his shitty speech fully, but it was some stuff of finding peace within himself and was about to destroy the "vessel?" which held his "lonely, anguished self" from the past three years. Then he reattached the camera to the tripod, relocated it for a closer view, walked in front of it, put on the gloves, picked up the nearby brick and started WAILING on it. I was just all Shocked, I could barely move and believe my eyes. He was smashing the thing like asteroids at fucking Armageddon. He looked like he was not going to stop. But after a minute, he put down the brick, took off his gloves and turned the camera off. Also, he had removed the Removable cover with his decals on it; said he was keeping it as a momento or something. And he walked back to the house, carrying his camera and the pieces of his own Smashed PSTriple. I would have posted sooner, but I was paralyzed with shock for hours; it was Horrifying to me. And later at about near 10:45 that night, I watched from the window of my room as he laid the smashed PS3 on his gravel driveway, and recorded Driving Over it with both of his Left Tires, about 4 or 5 times! My Shock continued more. I finally recovered about a couple of hours ago, ate a Hungry Man Dinner; I could not eat at all since the first smashing. Then I remembered that I should really be posting this, so here I am. OMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMGMG...

External links

• Trollin Train Dead.