2019-07-17 - TFW a Dead 17yo Knocks On Your Door

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : Are you married?

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : No.

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : What?

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : No.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : do you have a secret teenaged daughter?

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Do you think anyone could actually keep Melissa a secret?

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : she's mouthy AF, so no, but she's not a secret, is she?

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : No. She's not my daughter, either.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : seems like she's kinda awfully dead tho

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : 🐻 🔪

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : fuck sry only one of those was meant for you

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : i need you to run up here mostly naked & bang on the door & be crazy russian fiance ok?

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : OMW.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : FUCK

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : nooo that wasn't... aw fuck

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : I am going to guess you meant that wasn't for me. No problem. Bet their accent fucking sucks, though.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : it does, but his fake leg is a bludgeoning weapon so it's fine

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : seriously though

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : Melissa Grabbyhands Stoke-on-Trent what the fuck

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : are you ignoring me so you can make up a story?

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Two VERY DIFFERENT ASPECTS OF MY LIFE ARE CONVERGING RIGHT NOW AND I'M TRYING MY BEST

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : How drunk are you?

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : fairly to middling ~ 4 shots & wine going down now

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Tell me when you've finished the glass.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : sec

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : yep, done. that's gotta be a personal best

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : YOLO

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : She died. It didn't really take. Now she's been hanging around on and off for twenty years. She's currently throwing jolly ranchers at my head and telling me you're going to snap.

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Definitely not YOLO.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : so you're saying you're being haunted by your dead best friend from 1986.. 7? whatever

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : so you're saying ghosts are a thing now

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Those years aren't even close but yes and yes.

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Elias loathes me, by the way.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : (dancing dots, stop, dancing dots, stop, dancing dots, stop)

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : that's not funny

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : It's really not.

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : But you didn't like it when I lied.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : are you fucking with me right now? like funny obituaries and funny your brother hates me and he's dead and i see him? funny funny

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : You thinking that and deleting this number from your phone is the best outcome here, Sutton. Throw my jacket out of your window and give it a couple of weeks.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : 1) don't tell me what to fucking do

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : 2) i already did, that fucking thing was atrocious

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : who buys a jacket that doesn't fit across the shoulders?

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : 3) i got you a new one, you're welcome, ass

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : c) come over here so i can smother you with a pillow

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : (dancing dots, stop, dancing dots, stop, dancing dots, stop)

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Do I need to bring my Russian accent?

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : not unless it's a very good one

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Жопа

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : do not flirt with me when i'm pissed drunk confused angry sad confused confused hungry

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : i'll be home in like... 10 minutes if this driver could stop hitting every red light in the nation

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : I'll be there soon. Or in four years. Shit can get confusing.

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : make it 20 - 30mins. i have to raid the vending machine, have a wee, and stuff down my rage with atomic orange cheese snacks

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : Fine, I'll walk it. You're making showing up a real attractive prospect, you know?

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : jesus christ, maybe i should have you play my fake russian husband

(TXT to Carver) Sutton : fuck, too many elevator buttons

(TXT to Sutton) Carver : You only need the one. Hurry up and let me in.