Dear Fuckboi: A TomTord Satire

mug full of emojis

Tom slouched at his desk, glancing over at the old stains that covered the oak surface. Many a time had he sprayed his baby batter all over the wood, and many a time had he never cleaned it up.

His homework lay in front of him, taunting the poor dude. Tom had gotten so fed up and bored that he had doodled dicks all over the papers, to the point where he probably couldn't hand them in without getting in trouble.

Sigh, school. Was there even a point?

Of course there was you fucking idiot. You need a job in the future, and school teaches you the skills you need to achieve one. And I am one-hundred percent sure it teaches you to capitalize the first letter in a goddamn sentence. Yeah, I'm calling you out, original author.

There was a thump on Tom's window, so he turned around to find the source. Pebbles were being thrown against his window. When he opened it, he was met with the same dumbass from earlier.

Tord was dangling one of his legs off of his window ledge, looking down and thinking, "I wonder if a fall from this height would kill me?" There was a bag of tiny rocks between his legs.

Thank fuck, there was no crown of grass and dirt this time, but he was sporting a man bun. He had more clothes that made it look like he shopped in the women's section at his local Kmart. He probably did, that fucking beta male soyboy.

"What's good, Pussybitch?" he asked, inspecting his gross, crusty nails that curled inward from lack of care. It was, like, two a.m.. Why was this dumbass up? Surely his bedtime was eight.

"Bitch," Tom replied, curling his lip in disgust. He'd rather be forced to draw extremely detailed dicks and hand them into his teachers than talk to this bag of moldy garbage in human form.

"It's two in the morning, why are you still up? Can't jack off your micropenis?" Tord didn't even look up at Tom.

"Actually, I did. Well, with a little help from your mom," Tom said, throwing in the classic "your mom" joke. "Shouldn't you be in bed? It's past your bedtime and you have school. Wouldn't want mommy finding out."

"Homeschooled."

"Homeschooling is for people who can't make friends. Good luck with those social skills in the future."

"Mommy says that I can live in the basement as long as I'm a good boy."

"Okay, then, good luck being an incel."

"And good luck sucking dick to make a living."

Tord, tired of arguing, grabbed his official Emoji Movie mug. His idols were printed onto the ceramic. There was Gene, Jailbreak, Hi-Five, and Sir Patrick Stewart in shit emoji form.

Tom wanted to blow his brains out upon seeing it.

"Emojis?" Tom asked.

"Yep."

"Lame."

"Lame?! Emojis aren't lame. They're so cool." Tord nearly jumped right out his window. Tom wished he had.

Tom shook his head, and Tord started to smooch the picture of Gene on his mug.

"Do you believe in emojis?"

Tom looked at him like he was fucking insane. "What?"

"Some say that you become an emoji when you die."

Tord stopped kissing Gene and stared at his mug. The expression he wore could only be described with one word: love. Tom, too, stared at the mug.

Emojis are fuckin' dumb.

"...Sure," Tom said.

"Emojis flow through our veins."

"No, I think that's the heroin."

"We're all emojis in our own way."

"I'm not an emoji."

"I think you are, Tom. You remind me of the shit emoji. Or, or perhaps the combination of the laughing crying emoji and the gun emoji."

Tom looked at him, his face contorting. "😂🔫," he expressed.

"I knew it," Tord said.

Tord was a mixture of the tongue emoji, the sweat emoji, and the moaning emoji. There was a word for it, Tom knew, but he couldn't quite think of it. Ah, a fuckboi. He was a fuckboi, alright.

Tord turned his mug to Tom, and pointed at the designs.

"You see that one?"

"They all look the same."

"No, that one," Tord said, jabbing his finger at the 🍆 emoji.

"Oh, yeah, I see it."

"It's called an eggplant, or a dick."

"Why a dick?"

"Cause it looks a dick."

"So it's a dick cause it looks like one?"

"Exactly!"

"Wack."

Then, silence. Tord gave Gene another kiss, and sipped his chocolate milk from the mug.

"Tom, you're a bitch."

"I am?"

"Yep. You're the first bitch I've met in a while."

"Oh. Well, I try to be a bitch."

"I'm sure you will remain that way." Tord said, still drinking. It sounded so bored when he said it.

Tom went back outside, leaving the dumbass to rot. Tord did the same. They both stared at each other in disgust before they decided to get some rest.

"Goodnight, Pussybitch."

"Goodnight, Tord."