Page 115 of Can't Text This

Python:Yep.

Me:You DID NOT have to do that!

Python:Right, but I WANTED to do that.

Me:How’d you know I even like pizza?

Python:Excuse me? EVERYONE likes pizza. It’s blasphemous not to.

Python:I’m appalled you’d even suggest it.

Python:Wait, you DO like pizza, right? Now I’m a little worried about my taste in women…

Me:Yes. I love it.

Me:Thank you, but stop sending me stuff. You’re going to make me think you like me.

Python:Oh, but I do.

Python:How was day two?

Me:I didn’t spill coffee on myself until AFTER lunch today, so there’s that.

Python:Oh good gravy, woman.

Python:I wish I could hug you right now.

Me:A naked hug, right?

Python:I’m sorry, did YOU just suggest a naked hug? My, oh my.

Me:I told you, it’s been a day.

Python:It’ll get better—first week jitters and all that. You’ll be a pro in no time.

Me:I hope so. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, help kids, and make a difference, ya know. I just didn’t think it would be this hard.

Python:It’ll get easier, babe. I know it.

Python:Now go rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

* * *

Me:My feet are killing me.

Python:You texted me at 6AM to talk about your feet? Are you crazy, woman?!

Me:Oh crud! Sorry! I didn’t even think about that. You’re just always the first person I text nowadays.

Python:I really love that, but I also really love sleep.

Me:Did I wake you?

Python:Nah. I’ve been up for hours.

Python:Also, if this was a cry for a foot rub, it’s not happening. Feet are disgusting, even your adorably pedicured ones.

Me:Well that’s just rude.

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