[Transcript of an exchange…]
by pandaqueen1001
[Transcript of an exchange M. privately had with H. over Facebook messaging. I was having dinner with my only DC friend, while M. was hanging out with H.
They had, previous to this conversation, already spent from 4pm-11pm together having dinner alone, then Trivia.]
———————-
“Tuesday
M:
I had to watch Casino Royale like 3 times before I understood it
because the first 2 times I was too busy staring at Daniel Craig to
pay attention to anything else
Tuesday
H:
oh my god
I mean, he’s obviously good-looking
But, for some odd reason, I feel like I would be paying more attention
to the movie
If it was Julian McMahon or Paul Rudd
different story
Tuesday
M:
It’s a good movie. Definitely worth watching even if you’re not Daniel
Craig’s biggest fan in the whole wide world and you want to have all
his babies and maybe have a threesome with Robert Downey Junior if
Daniel feels like getting a little experimental, but only if he’s
really comfortable with it, cause really it’s all up to him and you’ll
do anything he ever wants, and you mean ANYTHING, even if it’s really
really kinky but also if it’s just a long walk on the beach, you’re
down with that too, but seriously if he wants to try something weird
with jumper cables, whipped cream and a live goat on an airplane,
you’re totally game because he’s Daniel Craig and he’s got like 17000
abs and eyes like the sea after a storm or before a storm or something
to do with the water and the weather but at any rate he can just look
at you and your knees get weak and you know that everything would be
okay if you could just curl up inside his firm but tender embrace and
maybe spoon a little
Wednesday
H:
I’m a little intimidated by how awesome that was. Also, you really
think jumper cables, whipped cream and a live goat on a plane is
weird? Glad I never told you I did that, though it wasn’t THAT weird,
because we did use goat-friendly condoms, but then I guess it got a
little weird, because it was a lamb skin condom and the goat was all
weirded out by it because he thought it might be some long lost cousin
of his, but just because he’s a farm animal doesn’t mean he’s related
to EVERY type of farm animal, but I was supportive nonetheless and
threw the condom away before mounting the goat with jumper cables in
one hand and whipped cream in the other, though things came to a
screeching halt when I found out the goat was lactose intolerant and
he started puking all over the stewardess except it wasn’t puke
because I know the smell of goat semen very well and I also know that
the gestation period of a humagoat is approximately 30 seconds, so the
next thing I knew I was giving birth on the plane, but, actually, I
lied, and I was actually giving thanks instead of birth, because I was
so glad to have dreamt of steamy, kinky goat sex while I was being
violated by an Okapi with a 36-inch penis after being in a freak
accident at the zoo where I fell into the Okapi exhibit because I lost
my balance from masturbating too hard.
Except it wasn’t an Okapi. It was Daniel Craig. And I wasn’t
masturbating. I was being raped. Except it wasn’t Daniel Craig. It was
Hermione Grainger. Turns out she’s actually an Okapi with a 36-inch
penis. Except it’s not a penis. It’s a glass full of cyanide, and
she’s making me drink it. Good thing I’ve built up an immunity to
cyanide. Except it’s not cyanide. It’s goat semen and I’m giving birth
this very moment. Except that’s not really true, because giving birth
to the bloody humagoat on the plane earlier was much more difficult
than expected and now I’m dead.
You just read a story written by a ghost. Who’s the weird one now?”
[Also: H. sends him several graphic videos of deviant animal sex over the next few days, which M. responds to eagerly with ‘witty banter.’]
[…] At least that’s what many people have told me. That I was too kind. That I gave him way too much credence–the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t deserve. That they would have run as fast as they could in the other direction as soon as he started saying crazy-making stuff like this, or like this. Or writing and exchanging stuff like this. […]
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Disgusting. Glad this guy is out of your life.
It’s a sort of hidden blessing that everything revealed itself so fast, I know. Just wish I’d had more time to absorb the shock of the fallout…
Wow… Oh my gosh. What the hell?!?
I KNOW!!! That was my first response. I was afraid to tell him I’d seen this for a while, though, since I knew he’d turn it around and tell me I’d violated his boundaries and privacy by looking at his private messages from H, so instead I resorted to asking him very pointed questions about his correspondence with H (“Did you ever talk about sex?”) to which he always replied with a deep, thoughtful pause, and then, “No, I don’t think so.” It was maddening.
Oh my gosh! What a horrible fucking liar.
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