[A one-act play constructed from excerpts of emails I’ve sent over the past month, in reverse chronological order.]
PROFESSOR ELMER: And plus, I’m supposed to be reading and listening to lyrics at the same time? What am I, some super-cyborg? Screw THAT and also screw YOU.
MADAME 09: BOO HOO! That hurts my feelers! Don’t lash out at me just because your ignorance was exposed to the whole world!
PE: COME HOEM! Look, I can’t even spell, I’m so distraught.
M09: I was hard-coding when you were still sucking yo mama’s limp dick.
PE: She’ll be sort of draped around my shoulders like a mink stole.
M09: I assume I was allowed to tell you. Hoo hoo!
PE: Dude, that’s just sad.
M09: I just drank the shit out of that Code Red.
PE: Holy shitpants is this great.
M09: I’m eating ice cream and doing the laundry in your honor.
PE: Maybe it’d be less gross if my sentence was rewritten to be more accurate, something like: “It sure feels nice to type now that my fingernails have been clipped!”
M09: Mmhmm. Ahaha. Hmmm. Yes. YES.
PE: I’ll be wearing my Party Pants, as usual (they’re the plaid ones with the tear-away crotch, remember?).
M09: I know for a fact that is not the truth, so you better just eat delicious gummi worms.
PE: As for me, I’ve been concentrating my efforts on accomplishing two basic things: jack, and shit. And I’ve been doing a tremendous job, if I may toot my own horn for a second.
M09: I checked and evidently it’s a “mustard spoon.”
PE: You two-bit craphead! OK, I feel better, and I’m sorry for saying that.
M09: Hope all is well out there and tell Grandmama to pop a valium for me.