For years, one question has haunted me. No matter where I go, or what I do, it torments me, it belittles and attacks me. That question: whatever happened to Billy?
Who’s Billy, you ask? Have manners, for one, and say “pardon me, but I was just wondering, who is Billy?” Have you done that? Good.
Billy is, of course, the boy from the commercial for Minute Maid Orange Tangerine, in which Billy, stubborn as he is, refuses to drink the refreshing new breakfast beverage unless someone famous like Robert Loggia tells him to. Robert Loggia bursts in like a geriatric, but polite, Kool-Aid Man and tells Billy to drink it. Billy complies.
I didn’t bother with the parents because, literally, who cares?
Prologue: General Thoughts
I think Justin Trudeau is Billy.
Well, I sorta do. Look at the similarities: both men have similar facial structure, both men have similar hairstyles, and for all we know Billy could’ve been Canadian. Of course, some things may contradict this, like the fact that Trudeau is in his mid-40s and couldn’t have been 8-10 years old in 1998, unless Billy was like a reverse-Jack (the hit movie by Francis Ford Coppola), in which case he may have represented an incredibly rare scientific breakthrough…maybe Billy…maybe Billy was kidnapped by the government and experimented on? If that’s the case, then maybe I should stop. After all, nothing is gained by allowing the feds to discover secret Billy experiments are no longer secret, nothing at all (except a secret jail sentence in a top secret government super jail, I suppose).
So before I’m arrested, let’s move on.
Chapter 1: I Used Google
As the chapter title suggests, I decided to use Google to track down Billy. What did I learn from this? That Google really, really sucks.
Seriously, no one else has even tried to track Billy down. It’s like no one cares about him. It’s sad. I tried searching “Billy minute maid commercial Robert Loggia”, “i was billy in the minute maid commercial”, and so on. Nothing. Nada. Not even a random Reddit AMA. Billy might as well be dead for all the Internet cares, and I’m sorry, but I’m not having that. That’s just…it’s just wrong.
However, as someone who doesn’t live in the U.S., I’m incredibly limited in what I can do. I can’t organize mass demonstrations to find Billy, who would care over here in MR BLACK? All I can do is turn to the Internet and hope that it gives me something.
So that’s why I decided to move onto:
Chapter 2: I Started a Twitter Account
If fake White House employees can harness Twitter to achieve a ridiculous goal, why can’t I? I set up an account, @PROJECTBILLLLY, with the intention of getting in touch with Minute Maid and setting the record straight.
Unfortunately I forgot how difficult it is to gain followers, especially when you’re an account with a very niche appeal, and so I just sorta ended up taking the piss. I did start out with a genuine interest in contacting Minute Maid, but their social media team are humorless drones and I don’t think Twitter allows verified accounts to see tweets from users with a low follower count anyway so in the end it was sort of pointless.
Or so I thought.
The Saturday after I’d started writing this venture up (the 15th of April, in case you were interested. You weren’t? Who knew?), I noticed something.
See, I’d given up on the whole “finding Billy” thing so I’d ignored the account, until I decided to open it again, just to grab a few caps of the tweets to put them into the article. I noticed, then, that someone had liked my pinned tweet. Not only that, they’d also left a reply.
Now, obviously, I was intrigued. Mostly because someone calling themselves “IMD(b)eep Throat” is committing to the joke, and I can admire that.
So I cautiously sent them back a direct message, and here, my friends, is that log:
Nothing else to do, I suppose.
Chapter 3: I Go To [ADDRESS REDACTED] and Discover the Truth
So [ADDRESS REDACTED] is actually the name of a house in Vancouver. Yes, that is true, and not something I made up. This entire chapter is 100% true and not a convoluted joke because the truth is actually really boring.
Anyway, no one lives in [ADDRESS REDACTED] anymore, but there was a note left for me on the door. What was on it? You guessed it, folks: a password to, yes, the Dark Web.
I went inside (the note told me to, see?) and found a laptop plugged into an outlet in the living room, next to an old box of defrosted Totino’s pizza rolls (I didn’t opt for them, not because of their age/general condition, but because I refuse to sully my mouth with such a brand as Totino’s. Also they were disgusting and covered in spores. Coincidentally there was also a copy of Spore loaded onto the laptop but when I tried to open it, it almost blew up, so I guess whatever save file was on there was buckwild). I opened up the Dark Web approved browser, using the Dark Web password, and found that a window had been left open, just for me. A site had been loaded up.
So here, ladies and gentlemen, is the webpage I found:
Epilogue: Conclusions (Fates)
For real though Billy will never be found and I probably wasted my time writing this. Thank you for wasting your time reading it, though!
Article by contributor David Parkinson.