Member-only story
1M Followers On Tinder
A satire
Behold bitches.
My new modest statue at the:
École des Beaux-Arts. Paris. The Capital of Love. My art.
They could have made it more realistic, seductive, more me.
Anyway, thank you lovers (bah!) thank you followers (dah!)
Thank you losers (nah!) Thank you thank you thank you.
Coco Chanel, my sponsor.
Donald Trump, my VIP follower.
Pakistan, my hackers.
Ukraine, my donors.
Dubai, exclusive costumers
and all of Planet Earth members
Mars, Pluto and some other faraway stars, I’ll gatcha bitches.
Not looking for cash but for cam. to come, c’mon.
Sidenotes:
I am here today because of me.
And my endless giving to you all free-eaters.
I’ve been donating my body; for art, for social purposes, I am intentional in my core, in my being. Whole you know asshole.
To serve is my calling (but please don’t dare to call, only texting to my secretary from Mon-Fri, 13:00–17:00) We’re busy giving, busy being. (you know)
Personal interaction outside of work, not in this lifetime.
I give life (no babies though) but I kill too.
So you want to kiss now?
Or you want to pay me before I eat you and then you won’t have to follow me no more?
I am for free, just kidding, no stress honey.
But only eyes.
Can I have a drink please?
