mambasnake

Waga, like most people, had a habit of scrolling through his phone as he walked. If you saw him on the street then the first thing you’d notice was his black and green headphones, which he could practically always be found wearing. Outside of that, he was South American, with dark skin and black hair held up in a man-bun. His clothes were dark as well, though not in a goth way: puffy black jacket with a gray shirt and black jeans. As he mindlessly scrolled through his news-feed, a specific headline stood out from the rest based on sheer absurdity. It was incredibly recent as well, apparently posted only a few minutes ago. It read as follows: Kim Kardashian seen merging with look-alike! “Man, these clickbait titles just get weirder and weirder.” Waga commented, scrolling past it. I mean, what exactly did they mean by “merging”? Perhaps they meant she was attacked by someone who looked almost identical? Even then, it was Kim Kardashian of all people, so who would really care? “Oh

“Dude, do you think that…” Said Jay, looking down at the expensive phone held in both their hands. “I think it is man.” Replied Alex, looking at the wallpaper, a promotional image from “Keeping Up With The Kardashians”. “This might be Kim Kardashian's actual phone!” Jay said, excited at the possibilities. Neither had actually seen Kim pass by, although rumor was that she was in the city as of late, not that either of them cared. But then, as they were walking down the sidewalk and talking, a procession of paparazzi began to move down the street, the focus of their attention hidden in the center, merely a big-bootied silhouette with flowing black hair. As the clicking of heels and the blinding camera flashes moved farther and farther away, all that remained was a phone lying in the middle of the road, completely logged in and filled with every social media app known to man. While it very well could have been one of the reporters phones, the Instagram account present confirmed who

Jay lounged on his worn sofa and sat listening to the cars speeding by several stories below his apartment, taking an occasional sip from his half-full Coke can. The last remnants of sunlight had faded from the sky, plunging the true roof of the city into a canvas of inky darkness lit only by artificial lights. He sat casually, with his legs propped up on the coffee table, the entire apartment silent and cast in shifting shadows.  But it wasn’t just any day - or night - for Jay, it was in fact his 23rd birthday, or the tail-end of it at least. Hours before, his friends and family had thrown the man a surprise party in his apartment, one which had lasted late into the night before his closest friends had finally called it quits. Food and drinks had been ordered, gifts were given, and the cake had been cut to the tune of Happy Birthday as tradition required. But then it had ended, and Jay was left alone in his apartment with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t like