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"What do you mean,nothing's wrong with it?"I was baffled

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"What do you mean,
nothing's wrong with it?"
I was baffled.

"Well, it's more specific to say
I can't find anything at all
that's wrong about it,"

Toto spoke back.

The short
chubby boy 
went to the calls log--

He made calls,
sent messages,
took pictures or videos,

even plugged it into
his computer to analyze
the software.


"It might just be a game bug,"
he suggested,
"it might seem annoying that you
can't delete it, somehow,
but it's not affecting your phone
so I think you can live with it."


At that, I scoffed.

"Well, that sucks,"

"I guess it really was just
a very shitty game."


Toto sighed,
"You really should stop
calling it that.

If you liked the game,
it's a nice game."


I tucked the phone
into my pocket
and stood up straight,

"Well," I shrugged,
"if I play it in public,
people ask me why I play
a cancer game."


"Who cares
what people think?"

he rolled his eyes.


"Tatty-nerd Toto doesn't,
that's for sure," I muttered,

"I admire your confidence,
but that's about it with us, Toto."


"Well, I'm hurt,"
he stoically returned to his
PC, not missing a beat to falter,
"it's been an eventful five years."


"We have literally
nothing in common,
tater tot,"
I teased.


"We both suck
at socializing,"

he offered.


"I stand corrected."



They were silent
for one long moment,
revelling in the tacky-tick-thuck
of the keyboard chattering away.



"Coffee?" I offered.



"Now you're being
a nice friend,"

Toto grinned.


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