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I know I shouldn’t make such a fuss. You were only joking around. I shouldn’t have taken it seriously when you told the whole class that I was pregnant, it was just a joke. It was hilarious when you told our classmates that I was an alcoholic and everyone kept asking me what I was drinking. And hey, just for kicks and giggles let’s bring it up in front of my teachers. That’ll be a laugh.
. . .
I don’t mind that you blew off our final exam project to go to that party. I mean really, as long as you had fun we’re square. It’s cool, I didn’t need to turn in a complete project (it was only 40% of our grade). You went swimming in your clothes? Wow! that sounds fun. Too bad our Spanish professor wasn’t there. Maybe he would have given us some bonus points for that wicked cannonball. Maybe not as many points as if your half of the project were finished, but it sure was funny when you read off the menu from Taco Bell instead of the script I wrote up for you. Maybe if you hadn’t kept referring to Don Quixote as a Beaniard the professor would quit giving you dirty looks, but I get it- you’re just goofing.
. . .
To the guy in the restaurant complaining about the last time he got pulled over: I can’t believe that officer didn’t believe you when you said you were undercover chasing Nazis. Doesn’t he know our national security is at stake? He doesn’t need to know you were talking about the Nazi zombies in that video game you were rushing to be first in line for. Clearly, the police don’t have a sense of humor. I mean really, no traffic cop in his right mind should pull over anyone going 88 mph; Delorean or not, the intent is clear. So it was a school zone. Any kid in school on a day that sunny clearly needs more excitement.
And to the gentleman in the red Camaro: I hope you are having a blast clocking 100 mph through the tunnel. No, you didn’t cut me off—you just changed lanes six inches in front of me to get around the guy with the audacity to only be going ten miles over the speed limit . He on the other hand clearly deserved to be cut off. Maybe next time he’ll let loose a little and race you. Man, if those traffic cops would just get off your back you could have so much more fun.
. . .
No really, it’s fine, I don’t mind you puking all over the back of my car. Sounds like you had a wicked great time. How many shots? That’s insane! And I thought I was having a good time hanging out with my friends at that concert and meeting the whole band, but there’s nothing more fun than the fun you can’t remember having. I don’t mind that I had to drive 40 miles to pick you up. You were living it up way too much to think ahead about a ride home. And I don’t know what those people were so worked up about. So what that you put a little vodka in the punch. You were just spreading the cheer. And what is a party without some recreational drug use? It’s not like you’re an addict. I get it. I’m sure the cops would get it too if they weren’t such sticklers about that whole law thing.
. . .
To the stud who just dumped my best friend: of course, she is being unreasonable. Doesn’t she get that you were living for the moment? Why would she think you meant it when you said you loved her? Doesn’t she know that’s all part of the game? Why should she think that saying you needed her meant you were serious? Doesn’t she know that relationships in college are just experimentation? Sex is just for pleasure; it doesn’t mean anything! You are right; she is being way too sensitive about this. As long as you were having fun, that’s what counts. And now, you are having fun with her sister. Why can’t she be happy for you?
. . .
You know what’s really a hoot? Arson. I know, right? Think about it. Pouring gasoline, lighting the match, watching the fire eat at the walls—as long as its fun, who cares what burns? And while we’re at it, let’s live action role play Grand Theft Auto V. Shooting sprees and carjackings are a riot in the video game: how much more of a rush will it be in real life? And I’ve heard that if you really want to have a good time, there’s a cult that meets on Thursdays for satanic rituals. The best part is the LSD! Who doesn’t enjoy the merriment of a blood ritual when the knife in their hand is a phoenix feather and the blood turns into liquid music when it hits atmosphere.
. . .
Honestly, I think I would have a lot more fun without you. You understand. It’s not that I want to kill you. I just can’t enjoy myself as much when I’m dragging you along. Nothing personal. Just a matter of fun.
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