i arrived at my mini apartment, and opened the door to walk inside. inside i met with my 8000 birds and 46 dogs.
'aw gee wilikers man! i dunno what im gonna do!' i whispered lying down on my dog sofa which was js a couch shaped like a dog. my ex- boyfriend james corden left it behind when he moved out. i miss him, my big bulky sexy man. god he was so hot, i used to try to kiss his neck but i never could, he was so fat his neck blended in with the rest of his body.
my mind was racing with possible thoughts and decisions of what i should do. i decided to call my childhood best friend with the decision. BRING BRING!! the phone rung.
'hey leonard mead,' i say into my phone.
'hey queenie. im js on my nightly walk whats good,' he answers
'ive got a rlly hard desicion i gotta make and i need ur call,'
'mk whats the decision,' he says
'should i drive for redbull or mercedes,' i reply
'HOLY FUCKING SHIT DRIVE FOR REDBULL CHRISTIAN HORNER IS SO HOT,' he answers
'bitch tf hes like 70,' i answer, taken aback
'mf i havent gotten laid in YEARSSSS. last hoe i had was ages ago n she didnt even wanna get married, bitch was allergic to the ring. once u hit my level of bitchless, you start to get desperate,' he explains
'alr alr ig ur right. ill drive for christian' i sigh
'mk i gotta go those robo cop mfs are here to take me to mental asylum bc i like to walk and actually use my legs, unlike these absolute fatties in the neighbourhoods,' he says, hanging up.
i have one more call to make.
'hey christiannnnnnnn,' i say into my phone.
'omg hey queeeeeeeeeeen. are you calling for the reason i think u are?' he replies
'yesssss,' i say smiling,
'great so can u meet my wife tm at 3?' he says
'huh? why tf am i meeting ur spice girl?' i say confused
'....i thought u were calling to tell us u wanted a threesome...' he whispers quietly.
'oh... um no. i was gonna drive for u...' i say.
'YIPEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!' he exclaims, i can hear this bitch tap dancing through the phone.
'you start tomorrow. meet me at the circuit,' he says.
'alr' i reply before hanging up.
NEXT DAY
i arrive at the circuit in my little clown car.
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suddenly, paparazzi flood everywhere. the cameras start flashing everywhere, and i get reporters shoving mics into my face. they are screaming questions and i begin to feel overwhelmed. suddenly i feel a big string set of hands rest on my shoulder and pull me away, into the track and into a garage. i look around dumbfounded till i decide to try and find my saviour. i cant see the person tho?
'helloooo! down here!' i hear i little spanish voice say.
'oh my, well arent you just a little dark stallion,' i say patting his head.
'are you red bulls new driver?' he asks
'that indeed i am,' i say
'well good bc christian i standing behind u,'
i turn around an this mf is standing with his feet turned outwards like abi.
'brother what is this,' i say
'actually stfu i will cut the brakes on ur car,' he immediatley fixes that goofy ass stance
'good maybe then you can invest more time into fixing maxes brakes,' i retort.
'oooo the girls are fightingggg,' i hear the dark horse whisper from behind us.
christian pushed me aside and pullled a lance stroll, and punched the shit outta nando.
'mb queen can u js tell ppl he hit his head while running into his little mouse house in the walls,' christian says turning around.
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