• Model
Harry:
— Honey no, just stop. Crocs and fucking zebra print leggings don't work, that's like asking me to stab myself in the eye with a fork. Do you want me to die from stabbing a fork in my eye-
Me:
— you can't die from-
Harry:
— Do you huh? Do you!?
Me:
— No?...
Harry:
— Marvellous, now please strip from your clothing and wear this. It's an all exclusive Louis Vuitton suit, it's up and ready for 2067!
Me:
— I can literally retire early from this shit, literally shit. I work as your assistant and I'm payed 10 dollars per day.
Harry:
— As shitty as those prices do sound, you get to breathe the air I breathe, walk the path I walk, hear the voice I sing. You my dear, get to witness art being conceived.
Me:
— Where?
Harry:
— You fucking excuse for sheep skin, ME! I'm the art your poorly shaped eyes are taking in, I'm the man your mom wished she's slept with but no! I'm taken, I'm married to my job.
Me:
— Mr. Moseby already came up with that line buddy, think of something else. And oh! Explains all the porn emails I've been receiving, fashion not helping you come sir?
Harry:
— sheesh! What's gotten your panties In a twist, you're never this cranky. It's only me who's aloud to be cranky!! And though I may be married to my job, I come three men before noon.
Me:
— It's 12:30
Harry:
— *Whispers* exactly
