I’m not supposed to take things from strangers. My dad said so.🤔

Very shrewd of your eloquent father, pimpin’. Quite meticulously sagacious indeed. I, Shawty, am Clifford Joseph Harris Jr, The king of the south! You, I dunno nigga, you just Shawty! So now, we’ve effectively had the pleasure of making each other’s acquaintance, AcCuRate?! 🙃

I guess so! I gotta go! 😋

Vacate?! Without, THESE?? 👱👩👵 😃☝

MY BITCHES!!! 😱

EXACTLY! Go on lil nigga, take em! 😁

😕😕😕😕 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Aww, you want em’, doncha’ Shawty? Of course you do! And there’s Cadillacs, Lauren London, weed and all sorts of surprises down here. And my niggas! All gettin’ money! 😃💵💵💵

Do they trap?! 😐😐😐🤔🤔🤔

Indubitably. They trap, Shawty. THEY TRAP.

I think of my life as having occurred in four parts. The first part closed with the revelation that songs on the radio are in fact pre recorded and the artists are not being summoned to the station with dark magic every time someone requests their song. The second divider was the first time I tasted custard pie. And the event that launched me here, into the most surreal and disjointed phase of my life, was this girl’s answer to the fateful question “why do you want to work at petsmart?”

And the answer

I shit you not…

“I have a reptile fetish.”