[To be read as a slam poem in the style of Eminem’s final rap battle from 8 Mile]
Everybody in the dating scene,
Pull your mother fucking phones out and follow me.
Everybody in the dating scene,
Pull your mother fucking phones out. Look, look.
Now before you swipe right,
This profile might give you a real fright.
The Tinder app has you aiming low,
Now who’s afraid of dying alone?
One, two, three, and to the four.
One match, two match, three match, four.
Four match, three match, two match, one.
My match, your match, no match, none.
I’m not your motherfucking soulmate,
I’ll save you from one more terrible date.
I am white, I am fucking dumb.
I don’t do anything interesting for fun.
Every six months I go for a run,
The status of my state college degree is done.
By the way, did I mention I’m 6’ 1”?
And yes, I am twenty-five,
I am still barely able to keep myself alive.
Don’t ever ask me what I do,
I don’t even know what I do…
I’m just another desperate fool.
But look at that, you’re on Tinder too!
What’s that, you’ve got wanderlust?
You think that fluency in sarcasm is a must?
Your hiking boots are in the closet gathering dust,
And we all know your money comes from a trust.
She doesn’t want to get coffee, she’s shook,
‘Cause this ain’t like those romance books.
He’s scared to death, she’s scared to look,
At that weird dick pic that he just took!
Fuck a date, I’ll go jerk off in bed,
Fuck Drake, fuck Machu Pichu, fuck emojis,
Fuck pizza! Fuck this unoriginality!
I’m an undateable idiot, I say it proudly,
And fuck this app, I’ll die alone, I’m outtie,
But here’s my cell phone number, text me if you’re free.
The sun rises in a small, eco-friendly suburb as the snooze button gets pressed for the sixth time on a Wednesday morning. On the seventh alarm Josh stumbles out of bed, but his pace accelerates as his vision clears and he realizes that he is an hour late to work. After frantically cursing, showering, and dressing he is in route to the office. Punch in. Punch out.
As he pulls into his driveway after a long day of work, our hero notices that his neighbors in the apartment complex have their recycling bins out on the curb. This realization was quickly followed with a sinking feeling in his stomach. In his rush earlier that morning Josh had forgotten to take out his own recycling. Now he was doomed to another fortnight with his various cardboards and aluminums.
The sun sets. The sun rises. Snooze is pressed. Before he knows it another recycling day presents itself. Or at least it would have had Josh not overslept yet again causing him to careen out of the driveway without putting out his recycling bin yet again.
Missing one recycling day is bad enough, but missing consecutive recycling days is damn near a death sentence in this small, eco-friendly suburb. Not only is the bin in his garage filled to the gills, but the smaller receptacle in his kitchen is stacked higher and more precariously than a drunken game of Jenga. One empty milk jug away from catastrophe, Josh realizes he cannot survive until the next recycling day.
Under the cover of dusk, our hero sets out to do the unthinkable. Josh tiptoes out to the communal dumpster with a trash bag full of all the forgotten recyclables from the past month over his shoulder like the Grinch coming to ruin Christmas. The brisk walk covers no more than a hundred feet, but takes an eternity in Josh’s guilty, panicked mind. He opens the latch and swiftly dumps the evidence with all the grace of a mobster dumping a body into a river, but instead of a splash comes a deafening crumpling of cans and bottles.
There is scarcely time for our friend Josh to rest. As he wipes the nervous sweat from his brow, his neighbor Cheryl comes trotting down the street as she returns from her evening jog. Josh offers a friendly wave as Cheryl slows to a halt. As she removes her earbuds, her gaze slowly lowers to a stray jar at Josh’s feet that had not made its way into the dumpster.
Josh looks down to see the offending evidence for himself. If a piece of tape in the Watergate Hotel can bring down the President of the United States then this would certainly be enough to bring down the head of the homeowner’s association. He takes a deep breath and slowly looks back up only to see Cheryl pointing a handgun directly at his chest.