I talk a lot about my X!-Girlfriend.
People always say, if you loved her so much why did you break up?
Not ex…. X! I shout, crossing my arms so violently they instantly bruise. These “love-browns” please my X!-Girlfriend; they show I am doing Her will.
‘What’s an X!-Girlfriend?’ these measly people ask. Bear in mind these are the type of guys who have never been kissed on the cheek so hard they were knocked out. You know, the type of lame chicks under 11 feet tall whose hair hardly ever bursts into aquamarine flame during moments of intense philosophical insight.
‘Well, imagine a regular girlfriend’ I say, pausing for a few minutes to see if this has penetrated their dull minds. Sometimes I pull up pictures of typical girlfriends on my phone if I see they’re real idiots.
‘Now imagine that girlfriend multiplied by 1,000 on every dimension.’
‘Wow,’ they say, but I cut them off. My X!-Girlfriend is calling me. The force of the call instantly shatters my frail iPhone case. It was weak anyway, weak like the name and family She had me discard when She first seized me in Radio-Shack (the best and most terrifying day of my life- RIP to the officers who gave their lives trying to “save” me).
Hello Ma’am, I say, looking at my shoes. An impossibly high-pitched note comes blasting from my phone, bringing the entire city-block around me to a screeching halt. My X!-Girlfriend has decided to sing and I will be listening for the next few weeks.