Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and DAVE STRIDER is demonstrating his LYRIC-CREATING SKILL.
Or something like that. Really, he just keeps changing the lyrics to songs to make them suggestive. It was funny at first, but now you just find it mildly irritating.
What song was his latest prey?
Oh yeah, "Thinking out Loud."
You try to ignore it, but to no avail.
"Will your mouth still remember the taste of my cu-"
"Dave."
"What? Man, i'm having a serious jam session here. You're ruining my flow... But you wouldn't know, would you?"
"Flow? Oh man, I've got rhyme like ghostbusters got slime."
He laughs, takka-takka-ing away on his computer... Probably writing another installment of his dumb webcomic. "Whatever." He spins in his chair to look at you, his shades reflecting sunlight right into your eyes.
You squint at him.
"Is my beauty blinding you?" He jokes, smirking.
"Oh Dave, your awesomeness just fries my fucking corneas to a crisp. Always." You say. "The swooning is so intense."
The smirking intensifies."Oh John, your way with words makes me blush." He fans his face with his hand.
He turns back to his computer shenanigans.
It's quiet, but you don't mind; you just like his compa-
"And baby I will be fuckin' you 'till we're-"
"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT DAVE!"
[hahA ITS BEAUTIFUL
just kidding wtf is this bullshif
bye]