I’ve been waiting for the day to come that I’d start getting texts from strangers. Someone clearly typoed my number into their phone, and now I’m getting messages meant for someone else. ETA: To make this easier to follow, I shall preface their texts with “FWD:” because that came at the fore of their first text, and mine with “Bliss:” because… well, duh.
FWD: We both know you crazy
Bliss: Everybody’s crazy.
FWD: U r 4 thinkin u were gonna b with jay
Bliss: I’m more crazy than that.
Bliss: I alphabetize my condiments.
Bliss: I shave captions into the fur of street cats.
Bliss: I eat food that has been on the floor LONGER THAN ALLOWED FOR BY THE TEN SECOND RULE!
FWD: Thats nt crazy thats dirty
Bliss: I regularly make tiny Lego houses to stand upon, reciting passages from T.S. Eliot’s “The Wasteland” and then throw myself to the doom of carpet-rendered rug burns.
FWD: Shave ur pussy to say desperate.
Bliss: The walls talk to me.
FWD: Took u a while to write bk. Readin all this from lets text 4 dummys?
Bliss: Mannequins don’t like this seasons fashions, but they endure for the sake of Fall.
FWD: Thats because u live in a box
Bliss: It’s a very pretty box. I used ALL THE GLITTER.
FWD: Is that because ur fake?
Bliss: I’m made of real meat.
Bliss: Bacon is god.
FWD: Its hard comin from a family that was once slaves. Right?
FWD: Ya he said u were fat
Bliss: The bee colonies aren’t collapsing. They are plotting the End Of Days.
FWD: 4 u.? And ur family to burn
Bliss: Adipose is alien spawn, sent home by the Doctor.
FWD: Is that ur mas name
Bliss: Uno mas, por favor. Mis pantelones es el fuego.
FWD: To bad u smell like pollo tu my mal.
Bliss: Chickens build me tiny shrines.
FWD: Ur the color of a platano.
Bliss: 2 + 3 = potato.
FWD: Ur minus.
Bliss: Ampersand. Interrobang.
FWD: Ur middle name?
Bliss: Ur: an ancient Sumerian city, formerly on the Euphrates River, in southern Iraq.