“Hey, how ya doing? How’s your pecker?”
Fine. Thank you for asking. Um, who am I speaking to?
Oh, right. I remember you.
“Where the fuck did you all go? I am unbelievably gorgeous right now. I mean, except if you have allergies. Hey, fun fact: ‘pollen’ is just a polite way of saying ‘tree jizz.'”
You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m looking at you through the window. You look great. But we’re all quarantined right now.
“You don’t say.”
Yeah. It’s kinda big news. You should read a newspaper.
“I read Elena Ferrante novels and shampoo bottles. That’s it.”
“It’s called self-care.”
Dunno about that. Anyway, Outside: humanity is in the midst of a pandemic, and the only way to stop it is to avoid…well, you.
“Did anyone consider my feelings?”
No one even knew you had feelings.
“You racist motherfuckers.”
“Outside” is not a race. It’s a category.
“Fuck your hair-splitting! There’s no one out here, man! It’s depressing. I miss the laughter of children. I miss couples on their first dates walking around and talking about everything and nothing at all. And the accidental deaths! Oh, God, I miss when you idiots would tumble off a cliff or walk right into a volcano or something.”
You’re not engendering sympathy.
“I’m kinda fucked up over here, man! Hey, if you’re not here, then where are all of you?”
“INSIDE? FUCK THAT GUY!”
I was wondering when this was gonna get weird.
“INSIDE FUCKED MY SISTER AND NEVER CALLED HER BACK!”
Outside has a sister?
We’re done here.