stressmib: are we having a lighthearted back and forth about killing each other in some hilarious stage play or am I going too far with the faux trash talk
stressmib: cause calling me punk AIN'T STREET
Niteowl: i'm so fucking street you can't handle how fucking sideways i hold my GAT, bra
stressmib: but seriously you know I am not being serioustato
stressmib: seriously?
stressmib: serious.
Niteowl: i'm still doing that hiccupping thing after you cry real hard and can't talk well and my chest is goign up and down uncontrollably
stressmib: would a push pop help
Niteowl: unless that's slang for some sort of deviant illegal in 38-states sexual favour, no.
stressmib: hah
stressmib: you know, i treasure these little talks
stressmib: you'll remember your ol' stresstwig after you've gone off to college right
Niteowl: me too
Niteowl: hard to get my pants back on before my coworkers turn around
Niteowl: trick is, not to drop them right to my ankles
stressmib: so this would explain the polaroid of you I have that says 'NEVER PM AGAIN TRUST ME"
Niteowl: pfft
Niteowl: you can't trust Stresstwig From the Past
Niteowl: that guy is a fucking prude
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