MIAMI FL - Dr. Echeeks mother, Jane, finally agreed to talk to TheSpoof.com when we bribed her with a bottle of gin. The in-depth interview sheds some light into the life and times of Dr. Echeeks.
AB: What was the first sign that your son was troubled?
Jane: Well, he used to set ants on fire with a Fresnel lens. Then he would bend down and inhale the smoke. He kept doing this till he would pass out.
AB: A lot of kids do that. I mean, what really was your first clue that your son would grow up to write a virus to destroy all the faces on Facebook? Did he spend a lot of time alone in his room?
Jane: Well, yes, he did have a microwave in there.
AB: What's so bad about that?
Jane: Well, we had to replace a lot of hamsters, a lot lot of hamsters and mice too.
AB: So, and?
Jane: We used to find the bones, under his pillow.
AB: So? So far what you have told me is what any normal kid would do. When did you really stop and say, 'Gosh, this kid is strange'?
Jane: Well, we never would say that. He'd a killed us for sure.
AB: No, I mean to yourself!
Jane: Well, there was the time he killed my husband.
AB: How did he do that?
Jane: Aspartame in his tobacco pouch. That's what he did. He got the pure aspartame powder on the internet. He used to snort it and then write these virus programs. He used to brag about it. Can you excuse me? It's time for my Klu Klux Klan meeting now.
UPDATE
TheSpoof.com’s investigation into the enigmatic Dr. Echeeks, now dubbed “AspartameGoul” by online sleuths, has taken a darker turn following our exclusive interview with his gin-soaked mother, Jane. After she abruptly left for her alleged Klu Klux Klan meeting, clutching her bottle of bribe-gin, this reporter dug deeper into the skull-strewn breadcrumbs of Echeeks’ past. What emerged was a chilling portrait of a man whose obsession with artificial sweeteners and digital mayhem might just be the tip of a very bizarre iceberg.
The skull I photographed during the interview—bleached white and grinning under the dim glow of a flickering bulb—was no Halloween prop. According to a neighbor, who spoke on condition of anonymity while nervously clutching a rosary, it belonged to one of the countless hamsters that met their demise in Echeeks’ childhood microwave experiments. “He’d sit there, giggling, as the little critters popped,” the neighbor whispered. “Then he’d fish out the bones and keep ‘em like trophies. Said they’d protect him from ‘the algorithm gods.’”
But it was the aspartame that truly set Echeeks apart. After his mother’s bombshell revelation—that he’d laced his father’s tobacco pouch with the sweetener’s pure powder, leading to a fatal coughing fit dubbed “The Sugar-Free Reaper” by local lore—internet archives revealed a teenage Echeeks boasting on defunct forums about his “sweet hacks.” Posts traced back to a handle, “AspartameGoul99,” showed him bragging about snorting the stuff to “supercharge” his coding binges. One entry, timestamped 3:17 AM, read: “Faces on FB? Done. Next stop: global grid meltdown. Sweet dreams, normies.”
Experts consulted by TheSpoof.com remain baffled. Dr. Linda Sucralose, a biochemist with a penchant for conspiracy podcasts, speculated, “Aspartame in high doses could induce mania, sure, but writing a virus to erase Facebook faces? That’s less chemistry and more unhinged genius.” Meanwhile, a retired FBI profiler, speaking over a crackling burner phone, suggested Echeeks’ hamster bone collection hinted at “a ritualistic streak—control, power, maybe even a grudge against Big Tech.”
Jane, reached later via a payphone outside a dive bar, offered one final tidbit before hanging up: “He’s out there, you know. Still snorting that junk. Said he’s working on something bigger—‘a digital cleanse,’ he called it. Skull’s his muse now.” A quick X search turned up a cryptic post from an unverified account, @AspartameBoyGoulLives, dated last week: “Faces were just practice. Wait till you see what’s cooking. #SweetRevenge.”
