Mailbox

art by Evan

“What in the dick-licking, cunt-crunching fuck is that!?” I exclaimed loud enough to get my point out but soft enough not to startle anyone.

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked, the words dribbling out of his mouth before his eyes left the phone in his hands.

“That!” I gestured at the mailbox.”

“Wut?”

“Holy fuck, Ben, look up from your phone for two fucking seconds.”

“What? Jesus dude, you don’t have to harass me like that.”

“Apparently I do.”

“Fuck you dude. I was paying attention.”

“Yeah, to Tik-Tok.”

“Bro”

“What? It’s true. If your eyes were any more glued to that screen I’d have to start carrying around rubbing alcohol.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s a solvent. It dissolves glue. I’m saying you’re really fucking glued to your phone. Fuck, dude.”

“I’m not that bad, Ben said, instinctively looking down at his phone before looking back up. “Hey, it’s not like I’m the one who crashed his car.”

“Yo, fuck you. I know I fucked up, but I took my licks. And it’s not like I was texting and driving all the time. You’re the one whose eyes never leave the phone.”

“Still didn’t crash a car.”

“Fuck you dude.”

“Yeah, and fuck you back. Now what the fuck did you want me to see?”

“The mailbox dude, look at it.”

“What about it? Is there a big spider or something?”

“No - LOOK at it. Jesus.”

“What? Fuck you and just tell me.”

“It’s not USPS Standard 7C compliant. It shouldn’t be out here.”

“What?”

“It’s fucked up.”

“Fuck you dude.”