“what do you need the phone for josie?” a man yelled
“i need to fucking call people so i need the fucking phone,” some woman i assume to be josie screamed.
sound of phone crashing into the bitches er, bushes (thanks wolf).
“she’s the weirdest fucking bitch i ever fucking met,” the man muttered to himself, loud enough for me to hear.
now there’s someone on my patio with a lantern looking for their phone. i can’t help but laugh.
UPDATE:
Josie is now standing on the front lawn shouting “because i’m a worthless skank and a slut, he won’t even give me the fucking phone!”
now there is slamming of doors.
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that’s high class entertainment. and to be honest, i’m a little jealous!
you don’t get this kind of stuff in the snooty hills of burnsville.
i would gladly trade you my house in the snooty hills of burnsville (and the roommates that come along with it) for your crack pipe prior lake apartment.
yeah, no thanks. i don’t play well with others.
do we need to go out to dinner or something?
oh, yes. we always need to go out to dinner.
Can I come too?
Wendy, you’ll get your fill of crack pipes after your weekend in my neighborhood. I’ve got some new neighbors … phone-throwin’ types, they are.
When did Prior Lake become Crackton? I naively assumed everything outside the donut was all unlocked doors and church picnics.