Karson Valenti's Voice Mail

[enrages]

"NO, WAL-MART, I'M NOT GOING TO RETURN YOUR FUCKING CALLS. I APPLIED TO YOUR SHITTYASS STORE, LIKE, A GODDAMN YEAR AGO. I DON'T. WANT. THE. JOB. STOP CALLING.

If you're not Wal-Mart or a telemarketer, just leave a message, and I'll probably get back to you eventually. Seriously, though, this is 2012. Why the hell aren't you using something that's suitably futuristic and technologically advanced, like text messages or email? Who the fuck calls people anymore, I me---"

*beeeep*

Comments

text, saturday 21st (judges)

[enrages]

[ karson messages back almost immediately because whoops never sleeps ]

yeah, no problem.
i'll be there in about 15 minutes since i think there's that gas station near your house that's open 24/7.
they probably sell soup.
and don't worry about paying me back, man.

you doing ok?

text, saturday 21st (slowly screams as space engulfs)

[summit]

Yeah, I'm okay. I mean, not really super... but, uh. At least I'm sort of hungry?

[ That's usually a good sign that the start of the year plague is beginning to loosen it's hold. Seriously. First of the year colds suck.

He sneezes into a tissue and flops back on the mattress. ]

text, saturday 21st (judging harder)

[enrages]

ok
i'll pick up some orange juice too.
see you

[ Sure enough, about 30 minutes later, there's a text ]

open your window this shit is hard to carry come on hurry go go go

text, saturday 21st

[summit]

[ What. ]

Why the window?

text, saturday 21st

[enrages]

wouldn't opening the door at 4 am freak out your parents???

text, saturday 21st

[summit]

It would.
If my dad was home.

text, saturday 21st

[enrages]

alright, okay, awesome.
front door it is.

text, saturday 21st

[summit]

Okay.
The key is under the mat.

action, saturday 21st

[enrages]

[ Give him a minute... Balancing all this shit and opening doors and keeping Crab from being a dickbag is difficult. Eventually though... ]

Hey, I got your anti-sick stuff. Where are your spoons?