Birthday Fallout Text Exchange (Team Necromancer)

Birthday Fallout Text Exchange

Ramon: How’s your head?

Sam: It’s gone. There’s only pain.

Ramon: I told you not to do that fourth round of shots.

Sam: No you didn’t. You were telling me only a terrible person wastes good tequila and that I couldn’t drink less than the gnomes or you’d all make fun of me.

Ramon: That does sounds more like me.

Sam: You were wrong, anyway.

Ramon: That good people also waste good tequila?

Sam: There is no good tequila. All alcohol comes from the Devil’s armpit and I’m never drinking again.

Ramon: “I’m never drinking again” is such a cliché, Sam.

Sam: You’re not helpful. I’m texting James to see if he has any terrible tasting potions that will make me want to live again.

Ramon: Can’t you just bring yourself back to life?

Sam: You’re not funny and I hate you.

Ramon: I’m hilarious and you love me.

Sam: *groans* Whatever, I’m bringing James into this chat.

*James enters the chat*

Sam: I’m dying.

James: Puny humans can’t hold your liquor. I’ve already prepared you a tray. Have Ramon bring it to you.

Sam: Ramon is going to spit in it.

Ramon: I will not.

Sam: Only because now you know I’m looking for it.

Ramon: Sam, you wound me. James, I got the tray. Where are you by the way?

James: Some idiots got the entire gnome colony drunk last night.

James: You. You’re the idiots.

Sam: I figured.

James: The mess is unspeakable.

Sam: I do not want to know.

Ramon: Ooooh, has anyone checked on Frank?

James: Frank is currently hugging the toilet. Here’s a picture. *sends picture*

Ramon: That’s just mean, James.

Sam: When did Frank get footie pajamas?

James: That is what happens when you fall asleep naked in the lawn, Sam. I get to choose your pajamas.

Ramon: This isn’t the threat you think it is. I would also like a set of footie pajamas that say “beary cozy” thank you very much.

Sam: Wait, did you just have those on hand? Or did you find Frank naked, and then go buy pajamas somehow?

James: Do you really need to ask that question?

Sam: I forgot who I was talking to. You’re always prepared, like the ultimate boy scout.

Ramon: I’m serious. Can I have my new pajamas now, please? They look super comfortable. I appreciate the back flap. Very practical. Do they have pockets?

Sam: 1) Where is my tray? 2) Where are my pajamas?

James: I did not get you all the same pajamas, and yes, they have pockets.

Ramon: I stopped to get a snack. Chill, Sam. James, can we get matching pajamas for Christmas and do a family photo?

Sam: Yeah! James, you have to wear them, too! And we’ll find tiny ones for the gnomes.

James: No.

Ramon: Awwww, c’mon. *bear cub eyes*

Sam: Shouldn’t that be puppy dog eyes?

Ramon: I’m a bear, not a dog. Therefore, I beg in a cute but manly way, like a bear.

Sam: I’m not even touching that.

Ramon: What if we let you get super posh pajamas with like monogrammed slippers, James?

Sam: And a monocle, maybe holding a pipe.

James: why do you equate a monocle and a pipe with “fancy?”

Ramon: You wear that you’re either a villain, or the Monopoly guy. The Monopoly guy is fancy. You’re not a villain, so…

James: Mr. Peanut also wears a monocle.

Sam: First of all, Mr. Peanut is the head of a multimillion-dollar nut industry, so clearly fancy. Second of all, I also classify him as a villain.

Ramon: That peanut is going to start some shit.

Sam: Thirdly, neither Mr. Peanut nor the Monopoly guy could have made their wealth in totally ethical ways—they’re too high up on the money food chain, so technically they’re both villains.

Ramon: Bit harsh on trademarked characters today, aren’t we?

Sam: I feel like shit, Ramon. Stop fucking around in the kitchen and bring me James’ poisons, please.

Ramon: Well, happy birthday to you, too.

Sam: My last wish is that James gets us all matching pajamas to wear for Christmas. You can’t deny a last wish, James!

James: You’ll be dead. You won’t even be in the picture.

Ramon: Papa Nick can bring him back for the photo. It’ll be great. Very classic Christmas.

James: No.

Sam: Oh, that’s it. I’m bringing in the big guns.

James: Sam…

*Haley enters the chat*

Haley: Matching pajamas would be so cute! I’m in.

James: Haley, be reasonable.

Haley: No. Reasonable is boring. Reasonable doesn’t get matching pajamas!

Ramon: Reasonable is for squares!

Sam: Reasonable left the building the minute we moved in.

James: I can’t argue with that, but I can argue with matching themed pajamas.

Haley: Look, it’s happening, James. The way I see it, you can be gracious, fold to our demands, and get to help pick out the pajamas.

James: I graciously decline.

Haley: OR, you can pout, say no, and we let Sam and Ramon pick out the pajamas. Then you end up in a family photo anyway with everyone wearing fleecy unicorn onesies in various pastel shades. With matching slippers AND mugs.

James: You’re diabolical.

Haley: I’m honest. You know that’s what will happen. Choice is yours.

James: *sighs* Fine.

Ramon: Yay! Thanks, Haley. You’re the best.

Sam: Agreed. James, your potion made my throat dissolve. Is that normal?

James: Yes.

Sam: Did it actually dissolve? Because that’s how it feels.

James: No. It’s still there. A minor side effect.

Sam: Doesn’t feel minor.

James: Compared to what’s to come in the next five minutes, it is.

Sam: Wait, what?!?

Ramon: Should I get him a bucket? That sounds like something that’s going to need a bucket.

James: I would actually just toss him in the shower. That will make everything a lot easier to contain.

Sam: WHAT?!?

James: And get towels. Lots and lots of towels.

Haley: Ramon, I want pictures. Sam, be at Mom’s in thirty for your belated birthday dinner.

Sam: Tell her I need a raincheck. I’m dying and apparently about to explode.

Haley: You’re more than welcome to tell mom you’re not coming to your own birthday dinner, which she made. Which she has been planning for a week. There are two different kinds of birthday pie, Sam.

Sam: Never mind. Ramon, carry my corpse to dinner, please.

Ramon: Can do!

Haley: Good, James, you’re coming, right?

James: Of course.

Sam: Wait, isn’t it a little early for dinner? I just got up.

James: Sam, it’s four in the afternoon.

Sam: Oh.

Ramon: I took Sam’s phone and tossed him in the shower.

Ramon: Wow. That’s just…James, that potion is brutal.

James: That’s just his body purging the toxins. In about five minutes he’ll feel fine.

Ramon: It’s like his pores are vomiting.

Haley: I can’t believe I’m missing this.

Ramon: Oh, I’m recording it. Sam will want to see it as soon as his sense of humor comes back.

Ramon: James, it seems like a lot. I’m not sure he’s going to have organs left.

James: How much did you give him?

Ramon: …the whole bottle.

James: …

James: …

James: You were supposed to give him half. Didn’t you see the note?

Ramon: What note?

James: I’m going to bring more towels. And a counter potion.

Ramon: On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad of a fuck up is this?

James: Can the scale go higher than 10?

Ramon: Well, fuck.

James: It’s okay. I’ll give him the counter potion. He’ll feel absolutely terrible for about ten minutes, drink about a gallon of water, and then his urine will be purple for a week. It’s fine.

Ramon: …

Haley: You do not want purple pee, Ramon, and I will tell Mom you guys might be a few minutes late.

Ramon: You don’t know what’s inside my heart, Haley.

Haley: Yes, I do, and it’s not purple pee.

Ramon: At least Sam won’t forget this birthday.

James: But he’ll probably want to.

Ramon: And that’s why I took so many pictures.

*Frank enters the chat*

Frank: When did I get footie pajamas?

Frank: Also, I think I’m dying.

Ramon: James has a potion for you.

END