Hey, buddy.

“Nope. Leave me alone. It’s my birthday and I shouldn’t have to talk to you on my birthday.”

I like your shirt.

“Oh, thanks. It’s a customHEY! I know your tricks. Go away.”

How old are you now?

“None of your business.”

I could literally ask Siri.

“Fine. Ask her.”

Or I could ask Fractal Gritty.

“Wha?”

“JOHN MAYER IS OLD ENOUGH TO CONSUME.”

“AHH! Fractal Gritty!”

“LOOK INTO GRITTY’S EYES, MEAT!”

“Which ones!?”

“ALL OF THEM!”

“I hate my birthday.”

 

 

(I won’t thank Mr. Completely for this, because I’m not sure that gratitude is the correct response to its existence. I will, however, acknowledge his authorship.)