Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Texting With the Void




Void:
Hiiiiii. WYD?

Me: New phone who dis?

Void: LMAO. WAIT. Did you just srsly “new phone who dis” me?! 

Me: C’mon don’t play games. iOS upgrade ate all my contacts.

Void: It’s THE VOID.

Me: Ugh. You again?

Void: I know. Haven’t hit you up in awhile. Since the Grand Canyon, I think. Miss you, babe...

Me: What do you want?

Void: I want you to do something incredibly stupid. What else?

Me: Too late I already did like, ten incredibly stupid things today.

Void: Oh yeah? Like what?

Me: I'm not doing this with you.

Void: C'mon baaaabe.

Me: Like forgetting I drove to work and starting to walk home and taking Aleve without water
.

Void: No, not like that. I mean, like jumping off the 8th floor of the State Office Building, just to like, see what happens.

Me: No effing way. I’m scared of heights. You know that.

Void: I’ve been trying to convince you otherwise since you lived in your parent’s 9th floor apartment building in the Bronx.

Me: Ugh I know. 'Member that time I legit almost DID fall out the window? Also that whole Eric Clapton’s kid thing was crazy.

Void: I didn’t have anything to do with that.

Me: Not saying you did.

Void: So . . .

Me: Dude I’m tired, I need to go to bed. Srsly WTF do you want RN?

Void: I’m just calling on you to like, expand your horizons.

Me: What are you suggesting?

Void: I already said.

Me: What?

Void: I want you to do something incredibly stupid.

Me: Like what?

Void: Like come to work naked or start crawling over everyone in the audience of a movie theater or airplane.

Me: How about starting a blog where I tell everyone (including my dad) all about my pubes and booty eating and mental health strugggles and how much I hate myself and risk my career to make sure the whole world knows that Donald Trump is an epic shitlord?

Void: Yaaaas Queen! Now we’re talking.

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