#77: You Can't Make this Sh*t Up

Krysta regretted adding the smiley-face. She'd intended to put it at the end of the sentence to offset the formality, but changed her mind at the last second. Given the tone, the smiley emoji seemed excessive, but she did not know which she would have used if she'd thought about it more. Sunglasses? Wink? Hearts?


Determined not to let overthinking emojis ruin her weekend staycation, Krysta reached for her laptop and placed an online delivery order from Karlie's for her favorite tuna salad sandwich with a side of corn chowder. To pass the time until her food arrived, she allowed herself a peek at her analytics dashboard, finding her numbers steady after a few months of declines. She would be fine in the short-term, but eventually would need to come up with something besides her enormous breasts to keep her online enterprise afloat.  Krysta reached down and pulled off her t-shirt revealing the satin black demi cup bra she'd put in case her things with Vincent took a certain turn. She checked her hair and teeth, held out her phone and started recording.

"Hello, everyone! K-Cup Krysta here by lonesome on Saturday night. I thought I would stop by and say 'hi' to my lovely followers."

She waved vigorously, setting her K-cups into jiggly motion.

"I hope you have had good weekends so far and you have some fun plans for your evenings. Mine is VR games, a bottle of wine, and a food delivery, so I am squared away.

Krysta started a third video.

"I also plan to take some selfies later—bed, bathroom, or sofa. I have not decided yet. Perhaps I should put it to a vote."

Krysta raised her phone overhead, providing a downward view of her cleavage before giving her assets another shake and ending the video with a wave and a wink. While neither new nor different, it would keep her fans happy.

Done working, Krysta removed her bra and changed into the SUGOI DEKAI shirt Alicia had bought for her. She had no intention of ever wearing the shirt in public, but it would certainly play well for her fans, and it was super comfy. After dinner, Krysta spent the remainder of the evening playing VR games. By 9:00 PM, she had transitioned from tea to wine. An hour of Beat Saber and a half-bottle later, Krysta was too tired to keep playing, so she took an ibuprofen and went to bed.

Krysta awoke with an unease in the pit of her stomach. She did a quick self-assessment for a hangover, verifying she remembered going to bed the previous night. While tempted to check her messages, she instead headed to the bathroom where she took a shower and several selfies. She spent another ten minutes debating what to wear, having nearly decided on her fitted purple V-neck, but remembered she'd worn it the when she and Vincent slept together and did not want to send the wrong message. She settled on her old Stanford shirt, black leggings, and the satin bra from yesterday—just in case.

Heading down to the kitchen Krysta waited until she'd prepared her Sunday morning Assam blend and settled at the dining table to check her messages. She scrolled through a slew of late-night drunk texts from Julie before finally arriving at an early-morning message inquiring if Krysta had heard from Whitley, who had not returned to their hotel room (red flag). Krysta had received only a single message from Whitley around midnight that made a cryptic autocorrect reference to 'cristina cunnignham' (red flag) and she had no communications whatsoever from Alicia (HUGE red flag).

The doorbell stopped Krysta from diving too deep into her roommates' misadventures. She opened the back door to find Vincent on the porch holding two bags of groceries. "Did someone order Filipino breakfast?"

Krysta laughed. "I am surprised to see you here so early after working late."

"I always wake up early.  Besides, this fat kid is hungry." Krysta snickered, and escorted him into the kitchen where he unpacked the ingredients. She noticed he had on the same shirt he'd worn when they'd slept together last week, but she thought little of it because red was a nice color on him and flattered his soft, boxy frame.

They made small talk while Vincent prepared breakfast. Krysta intentionally kept her phone at arm's length, picking it up only to snap a picture of Vincent's expertly plated seafood fried rice, longanisa, and soft-scrambled eggs. Following their meal, he insisted she sit back and relax, while he cleaned up. Krysta obliged, and remained at the table where she completed her Sunday-morning crossword puzzle. As he finished loading the dishwasher he noticed Krysta's concentration melt into a satisfied grin. "Was that the Times crossword?" he asked.

"Yes. It was particularly challenging today."

"Are you kidding? I doubt that even took you ten minutes!"

"I appreciate a well-crafted puzzle, regardless of its difficulty." Krysta looked up to see Vincent still gaping at her. "What?"

Vincent smirked. "I bet you read Wikipedia pages for movies before seeing them, huh?"

"No, I go to themoviespoiler.com. The synopses are better there. If it sounds good, I go see it."

"And that doesn't ruin it for you?"

"It actually improves the experience. I like to know if the movie will be worth my time. Besides, if the story is good enough, spoilers do not matter."

Vincent started the dishwasher, poured more coffee, and joined her at the table. "You're so interesting."

"How so?"

"Everything. You went to Stanford, but decided to be an online model. You're a part-time math tutor, but could probably teach in the department if you wanted "Your, uh…" Vincent paused as Krysta folded her arms underneath the balcony of her breasts. "Yeah, all of that. Most people only have, like, one or two things. But you've got a whole bunch of stuff."

"So, what is your 'thing?'" Krysta asked, sipping her tea.

"I harvest organs," Vincent said, as if admitting to being left-handed.

Krysta raised an eyebrow. "Legally, I assume?"

"It's a lab that does organ extraction from donors who have recently died.  My Dad manages a clinic and got me into it while I was in college. I couldn't keep my GPA above a 3.0, but I could remove a pancreas like nobody's business."

"I imagine it pays well."

"It does, but there's no benefits and you've got to go through a ton of training. Also, the window for saving organs is about an hour so I'm always on call."

"So when you texted me—"

"I was minutes from extracting a small intestine. It got worse from there. Someone didn'tsew the head back together properly and I got brains on my shoes."

Krysta grimaced. "That certainly is 'a thing.'" Her mobile vibrated loudly on the table—three quick pulses indicating a message from Julie. She excused herself and read the message, her brow furrowing with concern.

"Everything okay?" Vincent asked.

Krysta sighed. "Both of my roommates are trending online: one for causing a spectacle during a live interview and the other for having a very public one-night stand."

Vincent looked both shocked and perplexed. "So you're...mad?"

"Jealous. This morning's shower selfie will hardly compete with that."

"You have a pretty good thing going, right? You're at, what, half-a-million followers?"

"407,560 as of this morning, but I am reaching my ceiling. People who like looking at boobs will only look at the same boobs, doing the same thing for so long before they get bored and move on to different boobs doing different things."

"Yeah, but you're super smart with amazing huge boobs—"

"Thank you."

"—and living with a cute blonde girl with huge muscles that wears costumes and a hot giant former volleyball star that smokes weed all the time. You can't make this shit up! There's got to be a group of people who are into that."

Krysta stared at him for a long moment. "What did you say?"

"You can't make this shit up?"

"And then..."

"There's got to be a group of people into that?"

Krysta only blinked, her mind flooding with ideas. "Vincent, you are brilliant."

Vincent chuckled. "Wow. No one has ever told me that."

Krysta stood up suddenly and began pacing around the kitchen "I would need a—no, I already have that, so I could switch it, or, figure out how to—no, I could...oh, wow."

Vincent waited several minutes for a break in her stream-of-consciousness. "Do you want me to leave?" His words startled Krysta, who had forgotten he was in the room.

"You can stay if you would like. I doubt I will want to have sex today, but we have excellent internet, a ridiculous cable package, and at least a few beers in the fridge. I have some planning to do, but once I get into scheduling and correspondence, I will come join you, though I may have my headphones on."

Vincent nodded. "That's cool. There are a couple of basketball games today, and I need to get up to speed for Fantasy League."

"Fantasy league?" Krysta said, not looking up as she gathered her peripherals. "Is that some kind of sports role-playing game?"

"Sort of," he said, chuckling. "It's basically gambling unless you're a statistics super-genius."

Krysta jerked her head towards him, her eyes wide with interest, before she squeezed them shut. "No, not now. Please, do not distract me." She reached into the fridge, grabbed a beer and handed it to him. "Go watch sports."


"And when I finish I would like to know more about 'fantasy league.' Do we have a deal?"

Vincent considered the offer from the busty pinup model handing him a beer and inviting him to hang out and watch sports all afternoon. Sex would've been cool, but —