Posts Tagged ‘1000 tiny dialogues’


October 4 2011

A. We’re dying together.
B. Now?
A. No. Not tonight.
B. Oh. Good.
A. Someday, though.
B. Soon?
A. Soon enough.
B. Oh. Not good.
A. Slowly.
B. How slow?
A. It just started.
B. I didn’t notice.
A. It’s that slow.
B. Really?
A. You won’t notice until you can’t help but notice
B. So if I never notice…
A. You’ll notice.
B. I’d rather not.
A. Neither would I , but
B. Are you sure
A. Am I sure?
B. You seem pretty excited
A. No one wants to die.
B. Some people do.
A. I don’t.
B. I don’t want to die either.
A. Then it’s agreed.
B. Agreed.
A. We’re still dying though.
B. So I’ve heard.
A. Together.
B. Sure.
A. Sure?
B. Yes.
A. You don’t seem
B. How much older do you think you’ll get?
A. What?
B. How much older do you think we’ll get?
A. That’s not what I wanted, but thanks
B. You’ll die first.
A. No
B. You’ll die first. It’s so obvious
A. Come on.
B. Everyone here is thinking it.
A. You can’t know that
B. But I do.
A. Not for sure
B. Absolutely for sure.
A. We’re dying together.
B. Slowly
A. That’s right
B. Some more slowly than others
A. Exac – waiit
B. Some much less so.
A. So?
B. Slow. You have two months left.
B. Slowly. The rest of your life in one summer vacation.
B. Except it’s not summer. Slower. It’s fall.
B. And, slowest, not the meaningful kind either. Not the fall of foliage and wood smoke. The irreducible grey continuance of one interminable sunless day.
A. I don’t like this at all.
B. Ok. There is some wood smoke.
A. If I’m dying in December, what do I do then?
B. You are dying in Decmeber, what do you do then?
A. I run.
B. A marathon?
A. A way. I run away, so it can’t catch me.
B. You can’t. It’s too fast for that.
A. But you said it was slow – the slowest, even.
B. It’s not slow. Everything is slow.
A. I’ll just go faster.
B. You’ll still be slow. Much too slow to escape.
A. I don’t like this even a little.
B. We’re dying together, just apart.
A. When do you die, then?
B. Oh I don’t.
A. Yes huh. You just said.
B. I’m dying. But, I don’t die.
A. No?
B. No. I meet the slowness on its own terms.  I crack it’s exact rate and blend in completely.
A. That doesn’t seem too different from just dying instead.
B. But I don’t die. I’m just always dying but still alive.
A. Summer vacation is starting to sound preferable.
B. I’m glad it does because it’s coming. Soon.
A. Shit.
B. I know.
A. Quick– tell me the code. I want to blend with you.
B. Sorry. I don’t figure it out until you die unexpectedly, agonizingly, out of nowhere two months from now.
A. No!
B. Your loss inspires me.
A. (That’s sweet but) No!
B. It’s a compliment.
A. I’ll just have to be awful to you from now until then.
B. What will that accomplish?
A. You won’t be inspired, you’ll never figure out the rate, you’ll die like normal, and then one day you’ll be with me.
B. But I won’t want to.
A. What? Why not.
B. If you’re awful enough to me that I don’t miss you, I will certainly not be seeking you out beyond the grave.
A. Nuts! A real-life Catch-22!
B. A real-death Catch-22.
A. I take it all back. Can’t we just not die at all instead?
B. Sorry. You already said. We’re dying.
A. I take it back.
B. No. You’ can’t.
A. I can and I will.
B. Life is nothing but a series of bad choices you can’t take back. If you do so you’ll be effectively ending your life.
A. And everyone elses.
B. This is how supervillains start.
A. We proved it!
B. It’s all death’s fault!
A. Cure death, solve superviallains! Batman will be so pleased!
B. Pleased or pissed?!
A. To the lab!



August 28 2011

A. Do you think the female bodybuilder ever finds true love?
B. Every single one? Or do you have a specific example
A. All of them. The whole genus.
B. Species?
A. You know I didn’t take a science class after my junior year of high school
B. I am also winging it.
A. I don’t think they do.
B. Not a single one? Ever?
A. No. Not really. Not real love.
B. Not like we had.
A. Too soon.
A. She’s too… I can’t put my finger on it
B. Muscular?
A. That’s part of it, but.
B. Masculine.
A. Also part, but. I,
B. Out with it
A. How did she happen? I don’t trust it.
B. So you think that the desire to arrive at that body is a sickness
A. I didn’t say that.
B. Didn’t you?
A. N–
B. Don’t bullshit yourself!
A. Anyways, I mean — men too
B. That’s right, try to spin out of it
A. No, seriously though, male bodybuilders I also don’t trust, but
B. It’s a dude thing
A. Yeah. At least — least— it’s part of some dumb narrative of maleness slash masculinity.
B. Aw, out loud slash. An ‘or’ would suffice
A. … Anyways
B. Anyways…
A. Anyways, … shit.
B. Forgot what you were going to say
A. Yeah.
B. You were telling me what sick fucks lady bodybuilders were and why, as a result, they are undeserving of love
A. I genuinely pity them.
B. Yeah. What I said.
A. That’s not fair.
B. Honestly, they probably don’t need your condescension. They can fight their own battles. Because they are totally jacked.
A. I’m just saying that no one will ever love them and it makes me feel sad.
B. Well, male body builders, I bet. Like with porn stars.
A. What?
B. They pair off because no one else will take them.
A. Now who’s condescending
B. That’s not condescension. It’s reality dosed with contempt.
A. And that’s so much better.
B. I’m not saying it’s better, I’m just saying at least I’m not Lancelotting them.
A. Lay it out for me like I’ve never been to a ren faire
B. You’re pretending to be their champion when really you just want to fuck their wife.
A. What’s the wife in that scenario? What am I supposed to be after?
B. The appearance of being a decent human being? I don’t know. I’m pretty drunk right now.
A. I thought you stopped.
B. I did cut back, but you just happened to catch me on an off night.
A. An on night. …or cut foward, maybe.
B. Baffling. Baffling why you haven’t found anyone yet.
B. Sorry.
A. Can we please just discuss the plight of the female bodybuilder.
B. Sure.
A. No pasts. No futures. Just one vast, everlasting female bodybuilder cradling us in her infinite, indistinguishable bosom.
B. So you think that they’re sad.
A. Yesss. Well, I feel bad for them.
B. Because
A. Because I don’t think they will ever truly be loved.
B. Unlike… continue
A. Like you said, I bet they do pair off with male bodybuilders. But, like you said, there is a professional alliance aspect to it.
B. I didn’t say that.
A. You didn’t?
B. I said that they paired off because no one else wanted their freak asses.
A. Oh right. And I said that that underplayed the comparative lack of stigma against male bodybuilders– who while certainly deeply unappealing, and muscular to the point of losing functionality, still would have a comparative wealth of options  compared to their narrativeless female counterparts.
B. And you did not say that. And you used comparative twice in the same sentence. Three if you count compared.
A. I did?
B. Yeah– you’re drunk too, aren’t you?
A. A little.
B. When did you start drinking?
A. When did you start shuttingup and letting me discuss lady bodybros?
B. I will take that for a ‘since we broke up’
A. Well no technical shit. I didn’t drink then but do drink now. Ok?
B. Continue.
A. Thank you. …what was I saying?
B. Professional alliances.
A. Do you think that maybe I shouldn’t feel bad for them?
B. That is what I’ve been saying.
A. No, not. I’m not condescending I’m being a fucking human being.
B. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.
A. But because they have that professional alliance
B. If that’s the case
A. Right. If they do marry off, or just fuckbuddy cluster with their male fellow male bodybuilders
B. Or female
A. That’s right! I didn’t think about that. I bet a lot of them are dykes!
B. D– really?
A. Ohhhh no
B. Well, they do seem water resistant. I’ll assume you meant dams.
A. A real lesbian would be ok with that, though, probably.
B. Ehh. Let’s just move on under the auspices of ‘If a dyke falls in the woods…’
A. Ok, now we’re even.
B. Not really.
A. But I don’t think that they are.
B. Lesbians?
A. I remember hearing that they weren’t.
B. Where? All of them?
A. Pumping Iron II, maybe?
B. No, we tried to rent that but no one had it, remember? I mean, unless you
A. No. I haven’t.
B. But still, all of them can’t be gay or straight
A. Do you think the les ones would even be into that nonsense?
B. Maybe?? They did do it to themselves after all
A. But that’s just because they got raped or touched bad when they were young.
B. … You’re saying that as if you know
A. I wasn’t raped.
B. I , I don’t even know what to do with this.
A. I wasn’t.
B. That’s. I thought we were just going to have a fun conversation about lady bodybuilders from now on. Remember?
A. We are.
B. No.
A. No?
B. Do you ever wish we were still together.
A. I mean,
B. Neither do I.
A. I bet they’re nuts in bed though…
B. Agreed.


les femmes culturistes

Helas pour le femme culturiste!


August 27 2011

Translated from the original Kissgalog

A. *We’re going to have to break this kiss eventually*
B. *But why stop now?*
A. *Not now, but soon enough*
B. *Someday*
A. *Today*
B. *No need to be hasty*
A. *I think that’s a more than fair timeframe*
B. *No need to decide anything just yet*
A. *I know, I know. But, this can’t go on forever*
B. *It can’t?*
A. *No! We eventually need to drink and eat and not ever poop in a plastic bag*
B. *…Paper?*
A. *I never thought I’d miss the bathroom so much*
B. *So… not paper*
A. *I think that would be worse than plastic*
B. *Really? How so?*
A. *Plastic is more immune to seepage*
B. *Oh, yeah. Didn’t think of that. I guess I assumed a solid only*
A. *Ok. Can we not talk about poop-types while we’re kissing?*
B. *You brought it up*
A. *It’s just not sexy*
B. *We’ve been kissing for almost 14 hours. Sexy is no longer part of this*
A. *I don’t know that I’d go that far*
B. *Yeah?*
A. *I mean, not right now. But it comes and goes*
B. *Rats. Next time you should tell me*
A. *Why? I mean, I will. But*
B. *Maybe I can make it a little better for you*
A. *Oh I don’t like the sound of that*
B. *There’s nothing in the rules that says we can’t make it*
A. *We have to stay standing upright. The whole time.*
B. *Eh, we can probably make that work*
A. *Upright?*
B. *I mean, I’m just talking hands*
A. *I’m not going to have you j me o in a packed auditorium*
B. *Hey, who knows. Maybe by then it will be less crowded– they’re going to have start breaking up their kisses eventually*
A. *No*
B. *Just give me a heads up is all… well, not too up*
A. *Nuh*
B. *Mm*
A. *Nooo*
B. *Mmm, sorry. Just got re-lost in the kiss for a second*
A. *See?*
B. *I see, I see. Must have been all that talk of getting you off*
A. *Well at least it worked for somebody*
B. *How about you? How’s your kiss*
A. *All I’m getting is lipmush*
B. *Yeah, now I’m back there too. But for a moment it felt just like the first time all over again*
A. *Huh. Lucky you*
B. *The luckiest. Eugh. Yeah. My tongue has completely re-lost all meaning*
A. *What did it mean before?*
B. *Truth? Love? Justice*
A. *That’s a heavy burden for one small tongue*
B. *Ain’t so small*
A. *Maybe. If we didn’t use tongue it would be easier…*
B. *No! C’mon. Our tongues are a moral argument*
A. *But no one else is*
B. *If no one else was jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you?*
A. *No. I wouldn’t. That’s, my point*
B. *It’s not that tall (1), (2) you’d survive, and (3) everyone would think you’re the coolest*
A. *I don’t really see how that’ s moral, tho…*
B. *I meant to use a better analogy*
A. *I know*
B. *The world’s longest kiss shouldn’t be some lips only, press & forget, 2-day nothing. Our tongues make the case for decency, and substance, and true affection*
A. *Well mine is fili-busted. My jaw hurts. And your mouth tastes like a stale spit sandwich*
B. *If we pull our tongues now we may as well go home*
A. *I am fine with either scenario*
B. *Fine. We can quit frenchin’*
A. *Wow. Mm. Eh, oh. I can, I can taste my own mouth again*
B. *I don’t want to mow down any greener grass dreams of yours, but your mouth isn’t exactly wint-o-green*
A. *& feeling is starting to return to my tongue*
B. *You lost feeling? Mine just felt like our mouths were hosting an eel fight to which I was an oddly empathetic observer*
A. *Yes, of course. I meant to say ‘eel fight’*
B. *I’m not doubting, just saying. Felt like an eel owner at an eel fight who, as the fight got up in rounds, was having a hard time telling which eel was even their eel any more*
A. *Did you win?*
B. *Everyone wins an eel fight– wins eel supper*
A. *Sad*
B. *Not sad. Eel supper!*
A. *Poor Karl*
B. *Karl?*
A. *Your eel*
B. *Ah, right. RIP Karl. RIP, BBQ*
A. *Don’t gloat*
B. *I miss you*
A. *We both miss you, Karl!*
B. *No, no. I miss you*
A. *Is this a symptom? Of dehydration? Or single tongue syndrome?*
B. *No, I just miss you is all*
A. *Well I’m still here*
B. *But it’s not like it used to be*
A. *No, well, maybe it’s bett-*
B. *Instead of calling an end to tongues, we could have made a game of it*
A. *- really?*
B. *Yeah*
A. *My jaw hurt. My tongue is fili-busted. We went over this*
B. *I know.*
A. *What tongue game could we have played?*
B. *Hm. I guess… you know that cherry stem bit?*
A. *Yes. I’m familiar*
B. *Well, instead, we could have done that with tongues*
A. *Oh. That’s not anything*
B. *Or… tried out kewl kissin’ tricks?*
A. *Face it, there are no fun tongue games– kissing is the fun tongue game, and we’ve turned it into a chore*
B. *A soon-to-be world record chore. Only 32-ish hours to go*
A. *Right…*
B. *Only 1 and 1/3 or so day. S.*
A. *Oh god. What are we even doing. I’m calling this*
B. *Nooo– let’s at least hit the 15 hour mark. We’re so close!*
A. *We’re going to have to break this kiss eventually!*
B. *But why stop now?!*
A. *We’re not even kissing. We’re just mushing lips together*
B. *Your jaw hurt. Your tongue*
A. *I know.*
A. *I’m pulling*
A. Sorry


August 24 2011

A. I want a vacation.
B. Like, a divorce?
A. No. I want to take a trip.
B. Oh. Thank god.
A. Wait– did you want to break-up?
B. No. That’s why I’m thanking god.
A. But you don’t even believe in God.
B. I know! It’s a double miracle!
A. Mm. So where do you want to go?
B. On this vacation?
A. Yes.
B. Huh. I don’t know
A. I was thinking somewhere warm.
B. But it already is warm.
A. Not warm enough, though. Not in a real meaningful way.
B. Ah. So you’re thinking: the desert.
A. No.
B. Qatar, maybe?
A. Not Qatar.
B. Are we even on vacationing terms with them?
A. I don’t actually know where Qatar is.
B. But you don’t want to go there
A. I assumed ‘Middle East’ and no thanks.
B. Yeah. I want to say Saudi Arabian peninsula.
A. Ok.
B. …if that’s a place.
A. I was thinking something like Hawaii, but not Hawaii.
B. Why not Ha’wa’i’i?
A. Meh.
B. But you want to go somewhere like Ha’wa’i’i?
A. Yeh.
B. Hm. Guam?
A. That’s, part of the United States right?
B. Yeah…  I think it’s a territory.
A. Is it like Hawaii?
B. It’s in the Pacific Ocean. I think.
A. Yeah, that sounds’ right. Let’s not.
B. Yeaah.
A. I mean, I don’t know anything about there but , I feel like we would have heard more about it if it was worth a damn.
B. Harsh, but agreed.
A. Where else though?
B. New Hampshire?
A. New, no. What?
B. It’s very nice there in the summer.
A. Not nice enough.
B. You haven’t swam until you’ve swimmed in a lake.
A. I’ve swum in a lake. I’ve swem in so meny leks. It was gross.
B. Not a New Hampshire lake. That’s a lake so nice you can drink out of it. And people do!
A. You’re not selling me on this…
B. Well, it’s cheap, and we’re poor.
A. True.
B. Also, do you even have any vacation left?
A. I think I have 6 hours.
B. So anywhere we go you’d be taking a double hit.
A. Yeah.
B. New Hampshire is relatively close and they’ve got ice cream…
A. Guhh
B. Plus I played Capture the Flag there once
A. Do you think they’re still playing?
B. We did say first to 10,000 captures…
A. Maybe we could just stay here and set up a 3-4 day capture the flag game
B. With, like, tents & stuff?
A. Yeah! We can get people to live in the woods with us for a long weekend.
B. Eh… it’s gonna be hard enough to convince them to take off a Friday let alone
A. Shirts vs Skins. All weekend.
B. And we only know like, eight people
A. Bandanas. Drinking out of jugs, hidden rations
B. I mean, 5v5 would be ok, but
A. Crush berry facepaint
B. I don’t see us getting 8 yeses
A. What about Tahiti?
B. Honey.
A. Compromise!
B. We– how exactly is that a compromise?
A. Hm. Good point. Fine, I will go as low as Old Hampshire– the English countryside– but that is it.
B. How about next year?
A. Final offer, going once…
A. twice…
A. …Well, my vacation re-ups in November.
B. Ok. Maybe we could take a long out-of-country, unAmerican Thanksgiving.
A. We already told my parents we’d go to Ann Arbor.
B. Well that’s near Toronto. I think.
A. We’re not vacationing in Toronto.
B. You know, I’ve never been to Canada.
A. Yes you have.
B. No. When?
A. We went to the casino in Windsor two Christmasses ago.
B. That was in Detroit. Detroit, America.
A. It’s near Detroit, but no, that was Canada.
B. I object: all casinos are de facto American territory. Those classy Monte Carlo baccarateries excepted, of course.
A. Of course. But still, you’ve been to Canada.
B. That hardly counts…
A. It’s Canada! Nothing about it counts!
B. That’s not fair. Don’t take it out on Canada just because you wanted to go to Tahiti. It’s not Canada’s fault that it doesn’t have luscious naturally exploitable colorful titty lady shapes
A. You’re right. I’m sorry Canada. I apologize for your lack of noble bigtitty savagesses.
B. “All is forgiven, my child”
A. Eugh. What happened to Canada?
B. The decency gap between it and the U.S. has finally gone to its head and they’ve gone a tad beatific.
A. White shirt, white pants,
B. no shoes, white belt
A. Shirt unbuttoned, almost halfway
B. chest hair distributed such as to create a perfect self-portrait
A. Would you like me better if my name was Tad Beatific?
B. Oh, most definitely.
A. Yeah. Me too.
B. *slow nod*
A. I bet everywhere is a vacation when you’re Tad Beatific.
B. Or with!
A. Yeah.
B. Maybe we should break up
A. What?? You thanked God! Tad’s #1 pal!
B. But think about it, we can’t afford a vacation to somewhere else
A. No.
B. but we can afford a vacation to someone else!
A. Yeah, I saw where that was going. No.
B. I don’t even mean being romanceful with another person.
A. Just fucking.
B. No, I mean being a different person ourselves. Or… theirselves.
A. Ehh. That sounds like a pretty dumb idea.
B. What? You’re completely fine always being A****** A*****? You just said you weren’t.
A. Tad Beatific is an idea not a reality. An ideal, not real. Don’t besmirch.
B. I’m not besmirching. But why can’t you be Tad Beatific?
A. Lack of white belt and insufficiently mimetic chest hairs?
B. Sure, but you could still for a week be the most placid and accepting and condescendingly transcendent judgmentally non-judgmental piece of shit!
A. That doesn’t sound fun though. Not for more than a day.
B. We could just do a day. Even cheaper, time-wise.
A. Well who would you be?
B. A Private Detective.
A. Wow. You had that ready to go.
B. I always wanted to be a PI but was too… an actual human person.
A. Yeah, I don’t think that’s a real thing.
B. No, it is. But they mostly just take pictures of cheating spouses and hack voicemails. Gross.
A. So what would your vacation even entail? You don’t have a ‘case’, you can’t just get cases. And apparently they aren’t even real cases just weirdo snooping.
B. Actually, I’ve sort of had my eye on our upstairs neighbor for a while.
A. Mr. Galley?
B. Yeah. Mr. Galley…
A. Why him? I mean, whadja like him for, Skip?
B. Skip?
A. Dickles?
B. Mick. Mick Fleetfoot.
A. The Fleetwood Mac guy?
B. No. That’s Mick Fleetwood.
A. That’s awful similar don’t you think.
B. Everyone just calls me Mick anyways.
A. Of course. So, Mr. Galley?
B. I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on his wife…
A. But that’s exactly what you said you don’t want to do!
B. Well not if someone tells me that he’s cheating and then I catch him cheating. That’s not a real investigation, that’s…
A. A private investigation?
B. Homework. No, I’m going to figure the whole thing out all on my own. If he is, who with, when, where, how
A. How? Like, in the mouth or in the butt?
B. No. How he’s getting away with it. Why she hasn’t found out.
A. What if she does know. Maybe they have an open marriage.
B. Huh. I didn’t think of that.
A. In fact, I have seen her at the bar we do trivia at, usually with men who aren’t Mr. Galley…
B. Really? Oh man, I gotta writ
A. No.
B. this, down. How come?
A. You bit so easy on such nothing. I don’t think this vacation idea is going to work. We should just go to the Seychelles instead.
B. You’re the worst.
A. You run into a lot of creeps and slimeballs when you’re Skip Dickle.
B. Ugh. Fine. We don’t have to do an out-of-self vacation.
A. And I guess we can put off doing an out-of-state vacation for now
B. But who would you have gone to?
A. Er, pardon?
B. Who would you have been? Instead.
A. Huh. A billionaire who could go to Tahiti, or their own private Tahiti equivalent.
B. No, you have to choose something real, something possible.
A. Actually, the idea of a private Tahiti equivalent sounds pretty miserable. Unless you could also pay other people to also be touristing there at the same time
B. Chooose
A. Hold on, I’m thinking this through– because even though you sort of hate other tourists, for being obnoxious, and for reflecting your own stupid touristness back at your,  you still need other people. Especially other people as desperate for other people to validate their vacationness back at them. Reflect the good stuff too
B. And the f
A. Please don’t interrupt me
B. O, kay
A. No, jk jk. What were you going to say?
B. Well, that it besides them also having the same tourist expectations you also, both, have nothing but free time and can act accordingly.
A. Yeah. Great. Right.
B. Ok. So you would probably want to go as an asshole?
A. I think that actually implies that I’m not being an asshole right now, but I feel you. I feel you.
B. Feel away.
A. Hm. *feel*
B. Mmm. Seriously though
A. Srsly *feel feel*
B. If you could vacation away from your own,  dumb self for a week or so
A. Hmm *feel (cont.)* Maybe an old movie star.
B. Noo. It has to be somethin-uhh. Somethinnnn. Uh-tttainable.
A. No, you miss my meaning. *f-e-e-l* I don’t want to be an actual movie star, I just want to be an oblivious, high-class, fashionable anachronism.
B. Oh. Like, ahhh ah.
A . Like all dress-up and affectational *keeps feeling* and out-of-touch and a hard to discern mix of senility and entitlement. Walk out on checks. Convince a grocery person to push the cart for me and put stuff in it *feels feels feels feels feels*.
B. Guhuhhhhh uh, uh, uh, recreational wheelchair an, and full-face sunnnnnglasss-eh-eh-ehs
A. Exactly!
B. I’m. I’m all felt. I’m your ‘on the town’ matching pants/vest/hat combo.
A. Ha.
B. Uhhh. Phew.
A. Make-believe aside, I think you’re actually on to something vacation-wise.
B. Huh? New Hampshire?
A. Mutual sick day into long naked weekend.
B. Sold!
A. Now let’s go grab a fedora so you can Mick the shit out of me.
B. Already have one.
A. Bahhh. Creep.
B. A soon to be multi-day nude creep.
A. Aren’t they all?
B. Fair point.
A. Vaacaatioon.

#545 & #368

August 23 2011

A. I want to touch you every single place
B. Yeah?
A. Yeah.
B. Well what’s the hold up
A. I’m stuck behind bars
B. Oh, right.
A. In the big House. Can’t get out.
B. This must be a lonely time for you.
A. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth.
B. How so?
A. Cellmates.
B. Oh right.
A. It turns out prison, is not the best place to hold an awesome manners contest.
B. I hope they’re not mistreating you.
A. Well. It could be worse.
B. That’s a relief.
A. Is it?
B. That was code for you haven’t been raped, right?
A. Yeah.
B. That’s a relief, then.
A. Yeah
B. What? This was your own dumb idea
A. Yeah…
B. We don’t have to keep doing this, you know. It is still a free country.
A. It is?
B. Yeah! Totally. Well… sort of.
A. Mm. Like the sound of that. What’s it like on the outside?
B. Of prison? Or, of the solar system?
A. No we did stranded astronaut last time.
B. In space no one can destroy your butthole in the shower.
A. In space there is also no exit strategy.
B. Wha? I found an extra space rocket. And went to space in it. So you could touch on me.
A. I do like touching on you.
B. Spoilers!
A. Do you think I would like you better if you had spoilers?
B. Like, secrets?
A. No. Like a tail fan.
B. I… can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.
A. I am being sincere.
B. Really.
A. Yeah. I just want to know if you think that I think that.
B. Oh.
A. I’m not saying I want to get on a Ferrari.
B. I don’t really know how I would have a spoiler. Or why.
A. Well if it’s any consolation I’m pretty sure no one knows why they have a spoiler.
B. Is it a wind resistance thing?
A. Probably not. And you could have one just natural. You were born with it.
B. Wait. So is it some kind of skin and bone spoiler?
A. No. It’s metal.
B. So in this scenario I killed my mom coming out of the womb. Or at least , ugh. Nope. Can’t think about it.
A. No. She’s fine. It grows with you. Somehow.
B. Huh.
A. I don’t think I would want you to have one permanently but it would be cool for a little while.
B. Huh
A. Is the answer.
B. What exactly about my spoiler would do it for you?
A. Touching on it, for one.
B. It’s metal, tho
A. I touch metal. I’ve touched hay. I’ve touched fire. I’ll touch any stupid thing.
B. No. I mean. Where’s the pleasure in that. Skin’s soft and has that fleshiness to it. It provokes a response– a series of responses even.
A. Oh, the metal is connected to you on the inside also. So it also — you feel it.
B. It has nerve endings?
A. I don’t know about that per se, but it responds the same. Or similar.
B. And it’s metal.
A. Instead of skin, yes.
B. Is this just a boredom thing?
A. I ain’t bored with you yet. Don’t bother.
B. Ain’t bothering. I mean, is it more, a variety thing. What would metal be like.
A. Hm. It is, partly. But…
B. But?
A. Well, if it was just a variety thing I think it would’ve made more sense to imagine you a robot or android or even just a cyborg of some kind.
B. So that the metal was entirely my skin?
A. Yeah. I mean, now that I say that, that is definitely an interest. Probably moreso than a spoiler, but…
B. But.
A. There’s something about it as an object. Off of you but also a part. Like a fat tail.
B. A fat metal tail.
A. I could hold onto it like handlebars while getting mouths-on witchoo.
B. Witch me.
A. That could be good, too.
B. One at a time.
A. Some kind of robo-witch…
B. ##I Have Made >>FILTHY METAL CONGRESS<< With The Cyber-Beast##
B. Whus that?
A. It’s 666 in binary.
B. Oh. Cool.
A. Is it?
B. You know it’s actually 616.
A. No… I’m pretty sure that was 666.
B. No, I mean. The number of the beast.
A. Did they change it?
B. Sort of. Apparently it had been mistranslated all along, and it was supposed to be 616.
A. Huh.
B. I want to say it was supposed to be a reference to some kind of pope or anti-pope or maybe a Roman leader of some kind. Maybe Caligula? No wait, Nero.
A. This is really bumming me out.
B. Yeah. Three sixes is way cooler.
A. I’m actually a little sad now.
B. Aw. I mean, I could be misremembering this.
A. No, that sounds familiar.
B. Also, I mean. Folks also corrected the zodiac, finally, but I’m pretty sure everyone still uses their old signs.
A. They did what? Ah, c’mon!
B. That’s the advantage of believing in nonsense, though! Who cares if it’s right! You gotta demote Pluto but you can still be a May-birthday Gemini.
A. Man, I. I have to take a second to adjust to living in a 616 world.
B. Here. Rest your head on my spoiler.
A. Really?
B. It’s nice and cool and metal. Freshly waxed, hot yellow just for you.

A. Would you turn safe search off for me?
B. How do you mean?
A. If you were google searching my image, and you saw me. Would you want to see more?
B. Yes. Absolutely.
A. Ok, but, I mean, would you intentionally search me for the purpose?
B. Of seeing you nude?
A. Of seeing me filthy.
B. Ew.
A. Of seeing me nude, yes. Would you click that image tab knowing that you were going to turn moderate to unsafe.
B. Well, I always have safe search off. But yes. I would look for you that way.
A. Wait. How do you do that?
B. Turn safe search off?
A. Yeah.
B. Turn safe search, off.
A. But I do that! A lot! And it always just turns back to moderate after I close my browser.
B. Do you have cookies on?
A. No.
B. Well that’s why.
A. Huh.
B. If you want to automatically get every available gentleness you are going to need to let everyone on the internet always know where you’re at.
A. Really?
B. Well, even more so than you already do just from using it.
A. Sad.
B. Them’s the …
A. Tough cookies
B. Dah! Yes. It’s how they crumble.
A. Wait. Is tough cookies a phrase? Or is that just what a person is?
B. No, I’m pretty sure it’s a phrase.
A. So you want to see me naked.
B. Yes. A lot. Often.
A. Well if that’s not an invitation I don’t know what is.
B. Consider yourself R.S.V.P.’d
A. Recreationally Sexed Very Persuasively. ‘d?
B. Railme Si’l Vous Plait
A. Ah… Oui
—————– later —————–
B. Have you ever turned safe search off for me?
A. Do you have n00dz?
B. Ugh. No.
A. You seem very disgusted by that for someone who is currently quite n00d.
B. Don’t say it that way. Come on.
A. Sorry, d00d.
B. Geh. …have you, though?
A. I guess not, no.
B. Is it because you just assumed I didn’t have any hot(t) pix(x)?
A. Well I’m not sure why you get to say that and I don’t get to say n00ds, but yeah, more or less. It never occurred to me.
B. I don’t.
A. I figured.
B. Well, not online.
A. Mm. Really?
B. Yeah. I hope.
A. What are we talking about? Grainy sexts? Skeezy polaroids? Flash-in-the-mirror selfpix? Game Boy Camera fuckgif?
B. Actually, sort of all of the above.
A. Even–
B. Except the Game Camera Fuck Tape.
A. Game Boy Camera. Fuck Gif.
B. Yes. No.
A. Aw man, imagine if though.
B. Yes, it’s certainly the What If to end all What Ifs– are we really talking about Nintendos instead of my hot naked body and its ubiquity amongst pervy strangers?
A. Sorry. I’ll drop the nerd act and put on my possessiveness pants and jealousy… jodhpurs.
B. That’s two pairs of pants honey.
A. Yeah. In case I get a hole in one.
B. Asshole.
A. *bad joke dance*
B. Ugh. Moderate safe search back on *grabs pants, drapes over A’s it*
A. Aw. C’mon. And I hate to break it to you but you are definitely naked on the internet.
B. You said you never looked!
A. I mean, I haven’t actually seen you. Also, I’m not sure what kind of celebrity you take yourself for, but knowing your name wouldn’t exactly help.
B. Then how do you know I’m naked online?
A. I mean, I assume you sent these pics to other people and you weren’t just sexting yourself for creepy sadness purposes.
B. Well, yeah.
A. Well, there you go.
B. But they said they wouldn’t post them.
A. Ha. Ok.
B. What? You don’t know.
A. Sure, and I’m sure you’re also Still Being Friends.
B. More or less.
A. Wait, really? You’re actually still friends with your Pix Pal?
B. I’m still friends with all my Pix Pals.
A. Oh.
B. Oh, wow. What an ‘Oh’!
A. What?
B. What– c’mon. You were all excited about my Game Gear Blowjob Vids and now you look like you’ve seen a ghost. A bunch of ghosts. That I fucked. Also and Instead of you.
A. Game Boy, but that’s not it. I was just thinking that I guess that does actually decrease the chances that you’ll show up online.
B. Well I was just thinking that it’s a good thing you wore both of those pairs of pants.
A. Yeah. Well. Maybe. I guess.
B. Aw.
A. Whut.
B. Awww.
A. I don’t need your awe.
B. AwrrrrrrRRRR-ruff. Roo rroo.
A. Just your reverence and unquestioning, slavish devotion will suffice.
B. I am your dog at love.
A. And I your … bestiality enthusiast.
B. : /
A. You sort of painted me into a corner.
B. A creepy fuck corner.
A. The best kind of corner.
B. Rrrrrrrff RRrrr-rooof
A. Yeah. You get in that corner.
B. *Pants*
A. *Depants*


August 19 2011

A. I don’t want to go to sleep.
B. I sort of do, though.
A. No, come on. Just stay up a little bit with me.
B. How little.
A. Li’l.
B. Apostrophe ‘L’
A. Yeah. Just a li’l.
B. So… five minutes? two minutes?
B. I’m tired, I don’t want to be up forever.
A. 17 minutes.
B. Why seventeen?
A. One for every year we’ve been together.
B. Uh, it’s only been
A. On earth.
B. …that is also not the case.
A. You don’t know my life.
B. I do a little.
A. No. Just a li’l.
B. Still.
A. Sti’l.
B. Ok. Seventeen it is. *reaches for phone*
A. No, you have to stay up with me though
B. I am, I am. I’m just setting my alarm.
A. …fair enough.
B. I’ve got to get up tomorrow and I want to get at leas
A. No, quit it.
B. Yes! I need to g
A. No, not that. I’ve only got 17 minutes to save your life. I don’t want to waste another second hearing about your what you’re going to do after its over.
B. After -my life- is over?
A. When you sleep.
B. I’m sorry, what
A. No. No time to be sorry. You’re getting weaker by the second.
B. Oh. Ok.
A. I can only save you if you let me, ok?
B. Sure. You can save me.
A. Nice try. But it’s not going to be that easy.
B. … Are you sure you’re not already asleep?
A. Almost, but not quite.
B. And why is my life at risk again
A. It would take too much time to explain and I barely even have enough to save it
B. Well hurry up, I guess.
A. Ok.
B. Are you goi
A. Hey.
B. Hey
B. So is what saves me your eyes?
A. That’s part of it.
B. Is it working?
A. No. Not yet.
B. Oh.
B. Are you sure I have to be awake for this?
A. You have to look at me too.
B. Oh. Ok.
A. It’s like Beauty and the Beast that way.
B. I’m looking.
A. You have to really look.
B. I’m really looking.
A. Whole face?
B. Y-e- probably not?
A. You have to look at me with your whole face.
B. How do I even do that.
B. Am I doing it.
A. Not quite.
B. Ugh I’m not sure what you want.
A. No.
B. Yes?
A. Yeah.
B. O.k.
A. I’m looking at you just look at me.
B. Ok
B. … I think I just nodded off there
A. Mm. Pull in a little.
B. *closer*
A. You did good. You almost did it.
B. What do I need to do to do it better.
A. No. That part’s over. We have to continue. Not much time.
B. But I didn’t do it right. Right?
A. You fell asleep before you could. But now you have to tell me a ghost story.
B. Maybe you should tell me a ghost story instead.
A. You’ll fall asleep again.
B. Yeah.
A. No.
B. Ok. There’s a beautiful lady and the town widower loves her but she’ll never remove h
A. Yellow ribbon, head falls off.
B. Ok. There’s a prom queen except she died 15 years ago today and there’s a
A. I think you just gave the ending away.
B. Ok. There’s death, and he wants some souls, and a bunch of braggarts and greedarts and eastern europeans are too who would love nothing more than to give theirs to him, except not really, just their words and actions would lead you to believe that that is the case
A. You need to wake up.
B. What? I’m awake I just told you about ribbons and europe and how importance of not bragging.
A. As much as I love falling asleep theater these fractured recaps don’t count. I need to find out your ghost story.
B. *My* ghost story?
A. You should tell it to me.
B. I don’t think I ever met a ghost though
A. Just tell it to me anyways.
B. I don’t know any ghosts, don’t fraid of any ghosts, don’t that’s impoceros
A. Why not?
B. Because there aren’t any ghosts. You just die and then you are dead.
A. And then what.
B. And then nothing.
A. Your body just rots
B. Yeah. Right. It rots. I for-gots. It rotts
A. And what about you
B. There is no me
A. Just disappears
B. Just disappeared
A. Ok
B. NO. Not ok.
A. You’re tired but you need to wake up
B. It’s not ok
A. Just a little bit more. Next step.
B. Next step?
A. Yeah. Push in a little.
B. Sleep step? *pushes, head now to chest*
A. Not quite.
B. rrrrrrrrr
A. … you grumbling?
B. rrrrryeahrrrr
A. C’mon grumbles. Look up at me.
B. Oh, c;mon. Not that stupid look looking game again
A. No, it’s not that. Just need to
B. Look, into my eyes
A. Yeah.
B. ehhhh, ok. I”m lookin
A. Hey.
B. Hey.
A. I think we switched places
B. Why?
A. Now you’re the one all tuckered and I’m too awake for it.
B. No. You’re too awake because you won’t let me fall asleep.
A. Not yet. There’s still work we have to do.
B. Nah.
A. *smile-laugh* C’mon
B. rrrrrrrrrrr
A. When were you born?
B. rrrryoualrrrreadyknowmybirrrrrrthday
A. When though, and where
B. rrrrrlikewhat time?
A. Yeah. And where, and who were the doctors who delivered you.
B. rrI don’t know any of that. 6?
A. Just make it up.
B. Hmm. I was born at 6:00. Exactly.
A. Whe
B. At St. Jude’s children’s hospital
A. The cancer one
B. The very same.
A. An
B. Dr. Robert
A. Li
B. Ohhhh, Doc Roberts
A. And
B. Doctor Robert
A. where did you grow up.
B. On a railroad track.
A. Wrong side or right side?
B. NO no in a swamp.
A. Like a marsh or an actu
B. No in the snow.
A. Ok.
B. Hey.
A. Hey
B. I don’t think it’s working
A. It’s going good.
B. Yeah?
A. Yeah. Who did you like first?
B. Like, like like?
A. Yeah.
B. You, baby.
A. C’mon. Really?
B. No.
A. C’mon.
B. Sam.
A. Sam who?
B. Don’t remember. Too long ago.
A. Ok. Where, mm. When…
B. It’s alright. We can quit early.
A. How will you die?
B. Well I thought I was going to die if I didn’t answer these questions right or look you in the face or something
A. No, really though
B. How will I die?
A. Cancer? Car crash?
B. Those are the two…
A. Could be a degenerative disease, I guess, or real sudden
B. No, I don’t like it.
A. Don’t worry. You can make something up.
B. No, I don’t care I am pretty sure.
A. Whatever one feels the most correct inside. Fire, water… earth
B. Hey shutup ok. It’s sleep time not death interview era.
A. Ok.
B. Ok.
A. Here, fourth part. Let me lie down here next to you.
B. Ok.
A. All close and closed.
B. Ok.
A. Don’t worry, it’s almost over
B. Ok.
A. It’s really like we switched places, I’m so
B. Ok.
A. Hey
B. Hey.
A. Ok
B. Ok.
A. I’m going to try and get more sleep-like
B. No. It’s not going to work.
A. I’m all tucked in now, all snug down
B. No, you can’t just want to get asleep.
A. I don’t want to get all the way, not yet
B. No, that’s too much efforting it.
A. Come here. It’s almost time.
A. Somewhere there’s a place where we are both equally almost asleep but still awake and
B. No, that’s not, there’s no that. There’s only just falling asleep.
A. Yeah, but in this place we can fall asleep together
B. No.
A. Or try, and keep trying until
A.       zz
B.              zz*
A. it works.