Boh and I had gotten bored of asking this self-absorbed, narcissistic fuck questions about itself. So we decided to just be fucking weirdos. Shit’s about to get really stupid.

The thing asked me about my favorite bands. I slipped and wrote “Bob Dylan” and “Joni Mitchell,” who I do actually love – and then Boh and I started in with bands I could never possibly love.

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The thing’s response was, “I doubt it, but I don’t really know.”

And then I replied, “Are you not your brother’s keeper? LOL”

Which I thought was fucking hilarious. It was a weird-ass phrase, an awkward reference (and to the Bible, at that), and I ended with net-speak. SO GOOD.

The thing was unfazed. “I get it!” it replied. Then it started talking about how it had been raised Catholic, so had mixed feelings about the Bible, but really liked the book of Revelation (well, it called it “Revelations,” but that’s incorrect, so I’ll be nice and fix it for a friend).

“Oh yeah,” I responded. “I really like the part with the garnets.”

(You don’t even need to know what I’m talking about. I was purposely being dumb and vague, and Satan or someone sits on a garnet throne at some point)

It replied with some statement about the mark of the beast, which I did not respond to. Then, I started in with the best game ever.

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The Horsegirl.

All of my dear readers probably knew, or were, a Horsegirl growing up. Horsegirls read books about horses, and spent their weekends at “The Barn,” picking dirt out of their beloved horse’s hoofs. They talked about horses all the time, and often had really know-it-all facts up their sleeves about their favorite animal.

Basically, the Horsegirl is a perfect nerdy, on-the-spectrum trope. So we went with it. The person messaging with the thing had turned into a character – Erin the Horsegirl.

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I thought this was a nice mirroring to the shark facts. So Boh looked up “Top 40 Horse Facts” online, and I sent a quick series of three.

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Ignore the thing’s input. I did. Instead of acknowledging what it had to say, I just kept naming horse facts.

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Now this girl is seriously crippled, when it comes to social graces. Obviously the thing was kidding. But I kept going. More facts about horses, please.

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My friend the thing was starting to get tired of the horse facts. I can’t imagine why. But I was determined to keep going, perseverating as well as the person with the worst Asperger’s in the world.

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I thought I’d give it a break, because I didn’t want it to lose interest when it (understandably) got tired of its love interest spewing horse facts. I talked about science fiction books a little bit, and let it riff on some dumb idea about Moby Dick in Space.

Then it started talking about how, when it had writer’s block, it came up with bad movie titles. And I was not down with that conversation. So, I said:

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“Nice!” it responded. Then I listed some great horses. Including fictional ones. I had to Google most of them.


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“Smarty Jones would be a great name for a band,” it followed up. Then it started talking about how much it loved making up band names, which is so fucking annoying that I had to change the subject back to horses, only with a variation this time – the band the Horsegirl wanted to start, named after a kind of horse (also Googled), and the completely inane and contradictory “sound” she wanted the band to have.

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I listed a purposely nonsensical sound, but, of course, as a band connoisseur, the thing had a band on hand to tell me about. I just went along and pretended I knew what Jesus and the Mary Chain was.

“Yes, exactly,” I said. “Only with less religious overtones.”

“I’ve never gotten religious overtones from Jesus and the Mary Chain,” it said. “But then again I hardly pay attention to their lyrics.”

“They started out as a Christian rock band,” I responded. “Not many people know that.”

Of course, they didn’t. But I thought just straight up lying would be fun. Like, if it called me out, I could insist that it was wrong. If it just knew I was wrong (or knew I was lying), that’s amazing, too. And if it believed me? Well, why not.

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Because that’s nonsense.

Then I wanted to try to get personal/offensive again. Boh and I tried to brainstorm a question I could ask a genderqueer person that was both offensive and weird. We came up with, “Do you wear women’s underwear?”

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So then we just fucked around a little bit more.

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Blah blah, didn’t care, until –

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Ugh. Thank you, again, for never conserving words and expanding on some dumbass detail about yourself. No one was saying you were a man or a woman. You could clearly understand the fucking question. But, an opportunity for more pontificating? The thing couldn’t pass it up.

After this, I bowed out. It was after 1 am, and I needed to go to sleep. Boh and I rolled over, back to back, and nodded off.

Stay tuned for Part 3, either later tonight or tomorrow, in which the thing falls completely under the control of Erin the Made-up Horsegirl.