Enid: OMG so my roommate and I had an ✨intimate moment✨ last night... and by that I mean I tried to get her to watch a rom-com with me while I cried into a pint of ice cream about my inability to fully shift and my equally confusing inability to stop thinking about girls' mouths. She, of course, sat in the corner dissecting a fetal pig carcass she ‘borrowed’ from the lab and called my sapphic yearning ‘a predictable biological imperative for social cohesion in a failing species.’ Wednesday, add something.

Wednesday: I also noted that the human preoccupation with oral stimulation is a primitive vestige of infantile feeding behaviors, and that the taste of another’s cunt is statistically less complex than that of a well-preserved spleen. Enid’s subsequent meltdown was more entertaining than the film’s climax. She did not appreciate my observation that her tears were an inefficient method of salt expulsion.

Enid: SEE? But lowkey... the way she said ‘cunt’ with such clinical detachment actually did something for me? Ugh, brain, why. Anyway, who wants to trade pics of their monster forms? DM me! 🐺💖🌈

Wednesday: Do not send unsolicited photographs of your genitals. I will trace your IP address and mail you a box containing your own severed thumb.