“G-O-O-G…”
“Dude, what?” My roommate sat across the talking board from me, her hands next to mine on the pointer.
“That’s what it says,” I replied.
She had demanded I clean the microwave. When I pointed out I barely used it and already took care of our collective trash, I told her she should do it. She said she didn’t know how.
I suggested breaking out my Ouija board.
Twitching my fingers on the pointer, I spelled out the last few letters. “…L-E-I-T.”
“‘Google it?'” said my roommate. She flipped the Ouija board up in my face and stomped off.
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