Saturday, January 29, 2011

He punched me in the face

Opened the door, stood there for two minutes, punched me in the face, closed the door. That was literally it. I'll admit I probably should've thought of something to say, but - I mean - what do you say? I've taken up residence in a coffee shop up the street, and I'm considering sending him an email. I just don't know what to do now.

And yes, I really should've seen this coming too. Oh, and my neck fucking hurts like a bitch, if you'll forgive the language which incidentally doesn't capture even the slimmest fraction of the pain I'm in right now.

10 comments:

  1. Check your fucking email, Drew.

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  2. Don't say sorry to me, say fucking sorry to mum that you used her death for one of your fucking stories! Say sorry to Dad that you ran out on us and left him thinking you were dead! I might've known you were alive, but he's not your fucking twin, man, he doesn't get to know when you're having a bad night sleeping or are hungover or hungry! He thinks you're dead - do you fucking get that!? Dead!

    Oh, and one more thing, damn right I punched you in the fucking face! What the fucking hell, Drew? You disappear for almost two years just to make some writing project more realistic and then you just show up because you want to include me as a character!? I didn't bat an eyelid when you said you were moving in with Jake's old boyfriend so you could work on writing more realistic gay characters and I reserved my judgment when you told me you'd seduced him so you'd be able to write that too, but this is going too fucking far for a story man.

    What have you been doing, living with crazy homeless guys so you can write realistic minions of some fucking Creepypasta? You could've been fucking killed, Drew.

    You got one thing fucking right though. Dad's wanted to petition to have you declared legally dead for months now, and I've been vouching for you. I have half a mind to come down there and make the whole thing a whole lot more straightforward.

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  3. Whoah, whoah, whoah! Calm the hell down, Ben.

    Look, I know I shouldn't have walked out on you like that but did you have to tell them about Simon? That's kinda private stuff.

    And it's true, Ben. It's all true. Don't you remember?

    "Andi Benji haden Mum inde closet, all tick har."

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  4. You don't get to talk twin to me, Drew. Not any more. And don't you dare use Mum's death like that. I don't care what I said when I found her, and I don't know what the fuck killed her but it wasn't some imaginary friend of yours.

    You need help man.

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  5. What do I need to do to prove it?

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  6. Also, if Andrew really needs help, then why are you yelling at him instead of - helping?

    I'm just saiyan.

    He's your brother. You didn't loose faith in him up until now. Now there are two possibilities: Either he's saying the truth and you are letting him down right now and get yourself into danger. Or he's lying and a massive dickhead. Possibility one and you disregard his words: Death of you both. Possibility two and you do what he says: Certainity and *less* than both of your deaths.
    Decide yourself.

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  7. Fine. But I want proof, Drew. Proof.

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  8. I have to be insane to do this, but sure. I can get you proof. You're not going to enjoy it, but I can get you proof.

    We'll need a car, though. It improve the survivability rating by about 500%

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  9. Improves** That's just embarrassing.

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