Whenever life throws a Telescope bitch at me, I curse at God and lose another piece of sanity. If things keep going this way, I'm going to lose my fucking mind, slowly but surely. What Telescope piece of ass do we have on the menu today, you ask? Well, it's Mira Scarlett. Do I know her? No. This is the very first time I have had the privilege of laying my eyes on her. Is there anything special about her? No, not really. She just has a fat ass. It's the only reason I'm here, the only reason I'm doing this.
I'm a simple man. I like seeing a fat ass jiggle. Sue me. For real, though, big booties are a repressed experience for me. Back in my day, when I was young, wild, and free, seeing a fat ass used to be a miracle. And no, I did not grow up in the Vatican, surrounded by the pope and sexually repressed bearded men following the word of God. But still, not every girl on the street was a walking wet dream who runs an OnlyFans profile as a side hustle. Things used to be different back then. If you wanted to look at a fat ass, you had to buy a pin-up girl poster and get heavily judged by your peers for being a nasty perv. Nowadays, this shit is normalized. Heck, we have a whole Telegram app that lets you talk to women like Mira, whose entire personality is the fact that they have a jiggly butt.
This only goes to show that God is dead, and we have killed him. And honestly, it should stay that way. That mythical motherfucker made having a boner taboo. Who the fuck does that? Anyways, Mira, right? I decided to play it cool because her ass looks good in red. So I messaged her and told her that she looks good in red. What I truly meant was that her ass jiggles nicely with the color red hugging her hips. Did I expect anything out of my message? Yes. I expected to wait at least 30 minutes to get a half-assed response, because that's the way of the Telescope sluts.
Desperate For My Name
They never put real effort in but are always willing to sell nudes. Like seriously, some guy out there is working miserable 12-hour shifts just so he can make ends meet, and Mira here makes money by ignoring my messages and sending me bundle packs of her ass. What a world we live in. I personally know that I am living in an absurd reality. Not even Kafka can manage this Kafkaesque experience. I get baited into sending messages to the likes of Mira and then wait for a response because I'm trying to see skin without clothes. You think Vladimir and Estragon had a meaningless experience waiting for Godot? Get on my level, nerds. At least these guys were told to wait. Meanwhile, I'm making myself wait because I have an illusion of what Mira is going to look like without any clothes on.
Imagine humanity 2000 years from now stumbles onto this article, and they start studying it. What are they going to write down? The primitive human specimen exhibited an extended period of idleness, fixated on the anticipation of what historical records refer to as a jiggly ass, while the intended communicator failed to reciprocate engagement. You see how stupid I look? Don't be like me, folks. Let the pussy come to you, not the other way around. Wait, hold on. Something good just happened. Mira actually responded. She said thanks and asked for my name. Jesus fucking Christ, why? Why do you all keep asking for my name?
Every single Telescope bitch I've talked to so far is desperate to know my name. What are you going to do with it? Put a voodoo curse on me? Write it across your chest? Sell it to a hacker organization or in a weird database that collects depraved people's names like horny trophies? Seriously, this is outrageous. And it gets worse. I dodged that question like Jackie Chan dodging punches and changed the topic to a more ass-centric conversation. And she asked for my name again. Mira, are you fucking kidding me? Leave my name out of this.
My Focus Is Focused
Look, she's taking the piss. And if she's going to fuck with me like this, then you bet your ass I'm going full ass-blasting force on her. So I told her my name is Joe Biden, because my focus is very focused lately. What else am I supposed to say? Give her my real name? That shit's not going to happen. Look, I'm tired, and I want to sleep. But I can't do it because ever since Mira has responded to me, she's managed to piss me off more than the last time. I'm having nightmares from this shit. Like I put my phone down, close my eyes, and all I hear is the Telegram notification sound and the words, ha ha ha, what's your name? floating around in my head, like Freddy Krueger just entered my dreams, but he has fat butt cheeks, and all he cares about is my name. I'm not even exaggerating. If I had a dollar for each time a Telescope girl has asked for my name, I would be the next billionaire of the United States.
Look, I don't even know what to think anymore. I'm losing my fucking mind, and every third word I think of is replaced with what's your name instead. Just put me out of my misery, please. OK, I was not trying to get all gloomy on you. After many unsuccessful attempts to dodge this question, I finally succeeded somehow, and practically begged Mira to send me a bundle pack of her ass, which she eventually did, because who the hell refuses free money? Certainly not Mira. Anyways, you need Telegram stars to unlock this shit. If you don't have them, go buy them. All you need is a credit card with some money in it and a working internet connection.
Take Me To Bed
Not even the ass jiggles can make up for the PTSD flashback I suffered here. I'm not even horny anymore. I just want this what's your name nightmare to end once and for all. I'm telling you, if Voldemort existed in real life and he somehow stumbled upon Telescope by casting a horny-petronas spell with his dick wand, he wouldn't be the one who shall not be named anymore. Instead, he would live in crippling anxiety and basically cry any time someone mentions his name. I'm not Lord Voldemort, but I'm sure traumatized. You want me to end this on a positive note? Well, I don't.
What's so positive about this shit? I have to jump through six different messages and evade questions like I'm doing Jedi mind tricks just so I can see Mira in a thong.Do you know how pathetic that is? I'm pretty sure I would have more fun if I just Googled the word boobs and scrolled past the images. Best fap of my life. No one is asking about my name. No one is calling me baby. No one's spamming my Telegram messages every day. Just boobs in boob land, boobing their way to my boob. Sounds like paradise.
Man, look, I've had enough of this shit, and I'm done with the games. I'm going to take a well-deserved nap because I just lost all my brain cells and my will to live after this traumatizing question. And you think I'm exaggerating? I would like to see you try message 30 different girls on Telescope and all of them respond with haha, what's your name? It gets old. It gets boring. It feels like I'm talking to a robot with automated responses and not an actual human being. It kills the mood, kills the vibe. It leaves me in a state of agonizing pain and never actually allows me to finish what I started.
