eleanor

Samantha: ELLE!!!! WHERE ARE YOU? WTF WAS THAT ON YOUR INSTA LAST NIGHT?

Samantha: Eleanor. I’m serious. It looked like you were at a chapel in Vegas.

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Samantha: Tell me I’m wrong.

Samantha: Oh. My. God. I will strangle you when I see you if you don’t answer me stat.

Me: …

Me: …

Samantha: Eleanor Margaret Thomas. I can see the bubbles.

Me: All caps…seriously? My head hurts, and you’re yelling? Have some respect for the hangover.

Me: You’re a menace. Why couldn’t I have been an only child?

Samantha: SHUT UP. We’re texting. And how am I supposed to know you have a hangover?

Me: Because I’m in Vegas. Duh.

Me: Stop being stupid on purpose. Also, how dare you call me by my full name.

Me: There is trauma in my initials. One monogrammed hand towel, and suddenly I’m calling for help.

Samantha: You’ll need an EMT if you don’t answer my questions.

Me: Fine… Jesus Nagatha Christie… Fuck. So yeah, about last night…

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