"Hey, this is Morgan. So I'm going to need-"
"Um, I don't know a Morgan."
"Isn't this Angie?"
"No, it's Parker."
"Well, this is awkward. Sorry."
"No biggie. So what did you need from this Angie anyways?"
"Do you know her?"
"Unfortunately, I do not. It seems as if you do, though."
"She's my incompetent lab partner, and I fucking need the fucking data before I can submit this shitty lab report. Why the fucking hell did I get stuck with her?"
"I'm guessing you're not too fond of this Angie girl."
"Gee, you must be Sher-fucking-lock. What an amazing revelation. Morgan hates Angie with a passion! Scream it from the rooftops!"
"No need for the excessive sarcasm, damn."
"Sorry. Wait, shit, is it okay if I curse? I mean, I'll curse anyways, but if you're like twelve or something I'll tone it down a bit."
"I'm not fucking twelve, I'm seventeen. Eighteen next month, actually."
"Oh, same. Only I'm turning eighteen in six months."
"So I'm older? Ha."
"Shut up."
"Did Angie give you the wrong number on purpose, or what? Like how the hell did you get my number?"
"I'm beginning to think that bitch gave me your number on purpose. I might actually fucking kill her tomorrow."
"Morgan, even though Angie may be a bitch, that's no excuse to murder her in front of all those people. Make it look like an accident when no one's watching."
"That's clever."
"I try."
"Well, I should try to hunt her down and submit our lab report soon. Bye."
"Bye. Good luck."
"Thanks. I'll need it."
YOU ARE READING
You've Got Voicemail
Short StoryA story of conversations between two girls in which they exchange witty conversations, secrets, and find themselves. "Hey, this is Morgan. So I'm going to need-" "Um, I don't know a Morgan." "Isn't this Angie?" "No, it's Parker." "Well, this is aw...
