I had to answer a security question over the phone today and it was honestly surreal the guy asked me “okay, what’s your dream car” and for a solid ten seconds I’m thinking ‘what the fuck I can’t even drive?’ and then it hits me. I made this account in 2014. I know what I have to say. I swallow my pride and whisper into the phone:
“1967 Chevy Impala.”
There’s silence. Then, he gives me my password. Fuck you, 2014 me. Fuck. You.
I just felt the shadow of something ancient and awful brush past, like a great leviathan peeking from the waves on a moonless night far from shore.
they should remake breaking bad but instead of making and dealing meth it’s a suburban white mom who makes soap and the same levels of violence, gore, and drama remain
