Tweets
-
She snatches the key right off my very swole chest, snapping the chain I JUST bought. She says "you big stupid" probably to herself not me?
-
I reveal the puke key between my nips and give it the Vanna White. Her eyes widen and I say "just breathe." Women love to say/hear that.
-
Did I mention I'm sporting my Tommy Bahama Sal de Mar Camp Shirt? Color: Menthol? Four days running. Like wearing a spicy tropical breeze.
-
I gesture magically, raise an eyebrow or two (I can never tell how many), then slowly begin unbuttoning my silk shirt.
-
And I know it's probably the chemicals the government puts in our food but this country is producing some epic racks these days.
-
Basically your classic Chili's Too dinner-drinker. Stiff hair. Tight mouth. Alluring bloat. Unfocused intensity. Like looking in a mirror.
-
She sighs, releases her grip, sits down. I breathe in the deep fried air with audible ecstasy and get my first look at my assailant.
-
I say if she unstabs my neck and sits down like a classy lady then I'll reveal the mind-shattering conclusion of my trick, free of charge.
-
She says everyone had their phones out so I can probably see the shameful display for myself on YouTube, whatever that means.
-
She says: No you were here and made my old timey key disappear and then ran out, shriek-singing "Night Moves." I ask if everyone cheered y/n
-
I tell her I'm pretty sure I was at an old man bar last night, drinking to forget, Bob Seger ballad playing or maybe it just felt that way.
-
P.S. Next time we're hanging out, ask to see the floating spoon trick but only if you're ready to question every belief you ever had.
-
Also I don't remember being here last night but if I was doing magic tricks then I was definitely in Berserker Mode.
-
She claims I was here last night doing quote "gay ass" magic tricks and made her key disappear. First off: hate speech, I think.
-
I gasp and tell her I don't have her key because evidently the last thing I want to do in this life is lie for no reason? I'm so random!
-
I can't really breathe anymore. My dying brain is all: You were never my favorite. I'm like: Feeling's mutual, pal. We share a warm laugh.
-
She angrily tightens her grip, definitely a classic wrestling hold, maybe the Mexican Vein or some variant on the Crotchwatcher?
-
I decide to play dumb: um what key ... what even is a key
-
I say OK you convinced me, I don’t want any of that stabbed in my body, how can I make that not happen. She says GIVE ME MY GOD DAMN KEY
@fireland hasn't tweeted yet.
Loading seems to be taking a while.
Twitter may be over capacity or experiencing a momentary hiccup. Try again or visit Twitter Status for more information.
Flag this media
This has already been marked as containing sensitive content.