9:48 PM. July 2, 2026.
transcript:
V: [laughing] I bet he farts a lot now, huh? Hard to keep the cheeks closed or whatever. N: [snickering] You know what? He fucking does! And he loves blaming it on Daya! He thinks I'm stupid. Like, you have the loosest ass in the house, but yeah blame your daughter. V: You're not stupid! There's something wrong with him. And I even told him at Meep's wedding to cut the shit, but you know he'd rather die than stop getting bent over by his precious Remi. N: And then he has the audacity to get mad at me for spending time with you! He saw you texting me and freaked the fuck out. He was like, "I'm trying to move past it but you keep provoking me." Me provoking HIM? V: See, now that pisses me off. He's such a fucking hypocrite. Mad at you for coming over here, but spending every other night with Remi and that one tattoo artist bitch. I swear— N: Wait, what? What tattoo artist bitch? V: Oh, fuckkkk. Forget I said anything, I'm sorry. N: Don't keep secrets for him! Who the fuck are you talking about?! V: He's been, uh, sleeping with his tattoo artist… She's pregnant. N: He got another woman pregnant?! What the fuck, Vladdie?! Oh my fucking god, how could you not tell me? You're keeping shit from me too now? Jesus fuck— V: Listen, listen! I only found out because she told me, because it could be mine too. I'm sorry, I didn't know he was sleeping with her! N: Jesus fucking Christ! I gotta go. I can't— V: Nilla, no. I can't let you leave like this. N: No, fuck off. I'll get an uber or something.
