Just another magical crack fic

The Creepy Ass Text

If my keyboard were sentient, I would probably be arrested for abuse. Sometimes, being magical and shit, I contemplate how pissed off it would be if Annie enchanted it and let it yell at me for taking out my irritation on it so regularly. Like right now, thinking about Jack fucking Ritter. Or "SHAAAAKES" as he fucking calls himself now. What an asshole. He made up a fucking nickname for his name that's already a nickname. It's not like his given name is Shakington Shakeford or some shit. What a dick. Poor keyboard. And here I am, plowing through work that's NOT in my field of study all these years later, and despite never having done so before, I am now starting to blame the loss of that paper presentation for my current employment situation. Maybe if I had presented my paper to the panel, I would have been scooped up by that research firm right out of college and I'd be able to do the work I had dreamed of. This leads me to consider what happened to Shakes -- ehrm, fucking Jack, because I refuse to indulge that bullshit-- after school. A quick text illuminates me. Charlie has been social stalking and eyelash extracting information from my old foe for several days now. I think he may have even done an illegal background check to try to sate some of his creepy ass curiosity. I mean, I don't blame him. I know *I* had to do a magical background check because of working with kids and all, but who knows what mer-people got up to down in the depths.

What I learned is that Sha-- Jack moved away for a few years after graduation to work for a startup, knocked up a girl, discovered he liked guys and girls (but I guess not *that* girl), got a divorce, and moved back to open a brewery with a friend. It softened the blow a little bit to think of his life as kind of a mess and not particularly successful. Bigger person may have been a strong characterization for me, really.

Said brewery was the same brewery that I knew was co-owned by an ex of a friend. Said ex, Chris, wasn't awful to be around, and he and Jenna parted on somewhat friendly terms, so I made a decision. I scrolled WAY the fuck down in my message list to send a quick text asking him why the fuck he didn't tell me he was basically work-married to my rival.

The reply I got was, "Wow, Kara, I haven't heard from you in like, four months... no, since 9/14 according to my texts, and you're asking about Shakes? Just so you know, I have a lot more expertise with a woman than he does. Ask Jenna."

"You think I haven't?

Chicks before dicks?

IDK dude.

Just asking because he popped up and he's maybe going to fuck my friend and invade my life rn so I just want to know what his deal is."

Hopefully my typical sending of 700 individual texts rather than a full sentence is adequately masking the unspoken, *and I want to know if he's enough of a dildo that I can sever the very unique magical tie that binds us without regret in spite of being desperate to find more fairy tale friends.*

"Nah, he's a good guy. He had a kid with my friend's sister, and he was interested in running numbers for the business, and he's a big beer guy. Honestly, he's really good, really smart. I couldn't do it without him. I hope your friend is hot though, because the people who come to the brewery are all about him. He's got that swimmer's body I guess." I rolled my eyes at that.

Charlie's multiple picture messages interrupted my silent loathing. It was a series of photos of Shakes in the pool, Shakes with a swimming trophy, Shakes with a small child... HOLY FUCK. I TOOK THAT KID'S TOOTH THE OTHER NIGHT.

Then, while I was lost in silent contemplation, my phone buzzed again with a message from an unknown number.

"I knew who you were. I felt you."

If that's not the creepiest fucking text you've ever heard of, fuck me.

Charlie, steady sending photos, gets my attention now. I text, "Do you know if Jack is xxx-xxx-xxxx?"

A brief pause, and then a reply, "How the fuck did you get his number? I had to get it off Accurint."

"Did you also get his social and his mother's maiden name? Stalker motherfucker.

Idk dude.

He fucking texted me some creepy shit," and I sent a screenshot. I explained that I did some clandestine business at Jack's house the evening before Charlie met him.

"No shit?" was the reply, followed by, "He fucking felt you? I wish he had felt me. ::winky face:: Do you think you're psychically linked or something? Do you think the universe used you to bring him to me?"

I audibly rolled my eyes, despite communicating through text. "What kind of bullshit is that? There's no fucking psychic link."

Charlie responded, "I mean, what's so crazy about that? I'm a fucking leprechaun."

Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I set my phone aside and resumed what I was getting paid to do.