Bonnie: if i die will you make sure someone hires a puppeteer for my wake or funeral or whatever. Bonnie: whatever one does once i am dead. Clyde: i wont be able to get out of bed. Bonnie: you had better. Bonnie: i am putting you in charge of PUPPETS. Bonnie: you had better get the fuck out of bed and get my puppeteer there. Clyde: like Being John Malkovich? Bonnie: i dont care if you employ 4th graders with socks on their hands. just make sure someone is there with puppets, reenacting how i died and maybe a few parts of my life or something. Bonnie: Do we have an understanding? Clyde: like the gang bang in high school. Bonnie: thats cool. Bonnie: i was not gang banged in high school but take creative liberties, please. Bonnie: have me finding some treasure or something too. Bonnie: also, tell everyone i had AIDS no matter how i died. Bonnie: just end everything with, "well you know she had AIDS". Clyde: do you know what the russian acronym for AIDS is? Bonnie: no. Clyde: SPID. Clyde: pronounced SPEED. Bonnie: nice. Clyde: they dont fuck around. Bonnie: you have not acknowledged puppets and AIDS. Bonnie: acknowledge puppets and AIDS. Bonnie: or there is no reason for our continued verbal banter today. Bonnie: acknowledge puppets and AIDS!! Bonnie: NOW!! Bonnie: ACKNOWLEDGE!! Clyde: Puppets and AIDS. Bonnie: thank you. Clyde: do the puppets have AIDS? Bonnie: they could. Bonnie: tell them i have had it since birth. Clyde: now you are just being fucking vain. Clyde: you cant hide the fact that you were born before AIDS. Bonnie: stfu. Clyde: that's just wrong. Bonnie: so. Clyde: it would ruin the artistic integrity of the puppet show to imply you were somehow born after '83. Bonnie: i am dead. what do you people care. i want a goddamn puppet show about my whole life with AIDS + how i died tragically not of AIDS. Bonnie: i do not think this is a lot to ask. Bonnie: also, maybe we should finally tell people i am kenyan.
It's no secret that I hate talking on the phone. At least to anyone who has ever tried to get ahold of me. It doesn't matter who you are, if you call and its one of those days (it is one of those days 92% of the time) you are going straight to voice mail. Oh, and I keep the phone near me, I know you have called, and I care, I think it is wonderful, I just don't really feel the need to actually answer the call. I have an unnatural force preventing me from picking up the phone. As a result of the mental glitch, most of my phone calls (from very smart friends and family) come on my husband or children's phones because they always answer and have now become accustomed to passing off the call. Now what is weird (nothing is weird) is that I do NOT mind taking calls on anyone else's phone. If handed a phone, I will talk. Easy as pie. I have not figured out what the pattern is or what parameters make a call a successful one through my actual phone. But you know, I am calculating. And as soon as I have it figured, I will give everyone the key. Then promptly fuck all the rules up so there is another mystery for you to solve. Sorry.
Even worse, is that my voice mail is never checked. Ever. Potential callers should probably know this and I am considering changing my greeting message to reflect kindly, that no matter what is said, it will never ever find it's way to my ears. I wait until the message box fills up and no more messages can be left; usually alerted angrily by a friend who tells me this after haven taken a call on someone else's phone. A month is then allowed to pass, and after no one has been able to leave another message and the messages that have been left no longer matter in a current event sort of way, I delete everything. New phone calls I continue not answer, they go straight to the empty voice mail box and it starts filling up again, unchecked, totally ignored. The process repeats and I steadily increase how difficult it is to get a hold of me.
Texts I answer right away. Well. Unless, I have hidden the phone.
Garth: i hate ponies. who likes ponies? ugh. Wayne: fuck ponies Garth: exactly. Wayne: although they do become horses, so, they have that going for em Garth: i don't even like horses really, although i suppose they could do more for me than a tiger. Garth: when it all goes to hell. Garth: i cant ride a tiger. Garth: tigers ain't pulling no carts. Wayne: get your riding skills up mon post-apocalyptic amie Garth: i didn't even LIKE TIGERS any ways Garth: selfish fucking animals Garth: no helping out and shit Garth: i got shit to carry, where are the tigers? Garth: laying about in the sun, that's where Wayne: eatin' raw red meat Garth: exactly. Garth: meat I COULD eat Wayne: damn that sounds like fun Garth: horses don't eat meat, they like apples and shit Wayne: I need a big bowl of raw red meat right now Wayne: and a war to watch Wayne: I'm straight Garth: we are not competing, horses and me Wayne: good point Garth: fuck yea. blood + blood. Garth: that's good shit. Wayne: exactly Wayne: like real blood + real blood Garth: sound on mute, we can blare some like, metal or something. Wayne: ministry Garth: stab the couch with our forks a lot Wayne: prefect soundtrack Garth: STAB STAB munch munch munch Wayne: make a big fucking fire in the living room Garth: OUT OF the wood floor planks Wayne: war paint is a must Garth: cause, we are fucking tough like that Wayne: AND THE coffee table Garth: just, chop it up Wayne: fuck coffee tables Garth: throw the books on Garth: get it going bigger Wayne: hell yeah don't need em anymore Garth: turn the stereo to 11 Wayne: FUCK YEAH Garth: WE WILL EAT THE MEAT!! Garth: WE WILL BURN THE TABLES AND FLOOR!! Wayne: and piss blood on the electronics Garth: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!! Garth: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Garth: i cant piss straight like you though Wayne: ravenous twirlings of raw red carnage and bodily fluids Garth: i will use a cup, then throw it on the electronics Garth: YEAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wayne: fuck it you think there's a judging panel for this shit? Garth: well, i don't want to pee on the couch. Garth: then, where will i sit to eat? Garth: fucking savage. Wayne: I plan on sitting on people I fucking hate Garth: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! Garth: !!!!!!!! Garth: WE HATE!!!!!!! Wayne: carve an ass groove in their fuggin' forehead Garth: ASS GROOOVE!!!!!!!!!! YEAAAA!!!!