Sexual Textual

You know the deal, He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named send each other idiot text messages. I publish them here:

Him: One of these days you're going to get lazy, and mess up. And when you do, I'll be waiting.

Me: That's nice, you'll clear up after me? Brilliant, I've always wanted a maid.

Him: Don't mention it. Just wanted you to know I'll always be there for you.

Me: I broke into your house yesterday while you were out and masturbated in your bathroom. Then I wiped myself off with your towel. You're welcome.

Him: You're a stupid idiot and you've got a stupid idiot face.

Me: Then I went into your kitchen and put my fingers up my bum and wiped them on all your utensils. Om Nom Nom.

Him: You smell of stink.

Me: So do your knives and forks.

Him: I don't understand you. What do you hope to gain from this behaviour? Happiness? satisfaction? Is that why you do it?

Me: I hope that you get the taste of my anal passage in your mouth. Nothing else.

Him: Why is that so important to you?

Me: Because I want you to be humiliated in front of your peers when you throw a dinner party and they all use your grimy knives and forks.

Him: I don't host 'dinner parties'. I don't even have a dining table. My guests eat pizzas off plates on their knees using their fingers, and if that's not good enough for them I tell them to fuck off. So your little 'gesture' has been wasted.

Me: Not quite, cos before I did it, I shit in your bed.

Him: That's actually quite a relief because I thought I'd done that in my sleep. I was quite worried, I was about to go to the doctor.

Me: I also placed your doctor's thermometer up my bottom. So you should go and ask him to take your temperature.

Him: It sounds like you put an awful lot of thought and effort into this. I'm almost flattered.

Me: I've also put all the pens in your office up my anus. There's no escaping my bottom.

Him: You're assuming I want to escape from your bottom.

Me: You will do when you taste it. I've been eating only toothpaste for the last month.

Him: Minty fresh, nice.

Me: No. Quite the opposite actually.

Him: You monster.

Me: Don't judge me so quickly. You haven't seen what I did in the fridge yet!

Him: Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you bear to see me happy?

Me: To be honest, I'm not really fussed either way. Your emotional well being has no influence on anything I do to you anyway. Happy or sad this would still happen. You're nothing to me. You really liked you dog didn't you?

Him: Go away.

Me: This is not going away for a long time, we're in for the long haul here.

Him: Isn't it past your bedtime?

Me: It's past your life time.

Him: That doesn't make sense.

Me: It will. How would your family react to you if you were deformed by, say, a fire?

Him: Isn't there something on telly you could be watching. Like Come Dine With Me or the Only Way is Essex or any of the other bullshit you like?

Me: I'm watching telly right now. You mean so little to me that I can juggle the two easily. What about if you were disabled and couldn't go to the toilet alone? Would your family still stand by you?

Him: No, my father would spurn me as a twisted monster, not that it's any of your business. 

Me: OK, I'll take that on board, thanks. Anyway, I'm off to find some nails, detergent, plastic ties and lime. I hope you sleep well tonight. 

Him: I will, as soon as you stop texting me.

Me: I'm going to make sure you're buried face down.

Him: I won't care, I'll be dead.

Me: No you won't.

Next morning:

Him: I cried myself to sleep last night.

Me: :( why? I'm sad for you. :(