⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏
⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣉⠉⠉⠉
⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦
⠀⣾⣿⠏⣥⣤⣍⢻⣿⣷
⢰⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⣿⡄⢿⣿⡇
⣸⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⣌⢻⠇
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⢻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦
⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣬⣭⣉⡙⢿⣿
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢉⡛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡿
⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿--REP::⠻⣷⣶⣤⣬⣭⣍⣥⠞⠁
⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⣡⣴⣶⣦⣄⡀
⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢋⣥⣤⡍⢻⣆
CHEATER

hey, sorry i saw your profile and i just thought you looked cute in your picture, i really wanted to tell you that)) it's really rare to see girls playing video games haha! i don't know its a guy thing honestly im like really against misogyny and like ill be the one in the kitchen making sandwhiches. we should really play l4d2 sometimes its a really cool zombie game with a lot fo scary moments, but dont worry ill be there to protect you ;) sorry that wasnt flirting i swear im just trying to be friendly i really like your profile picture sorry was that too far? really sorry im really shy i don't go out much haha add me on skype we should talk more you look really nice and fun xxx

this guy lowkey gay fr now he has smol pp af

[1/4] you turn on the radio one morning to find another one of those rap songs where every 4th word is a swear. naturally the radio bleeps it out, but you realise that it sounds familiar. you realise that the rappers are speaking in morse code.
your eyes widen as you swerve over onto the shoulder of the expressway, nearly hitting a jeep cherokee in the process. it didn't matter to you. frantically searching the glove compartment, the backseat, and your purse, whim and jot down some cryptic message from a provocative rapper. concluding that it would probably be best for you to mosey to work, you pull back onto the expressway and try to make it to work on time.
upon arriving at work, you ask any coworker in sight if they know morse code. nobody seemms to, and some don't even know what morse code is. you slump your shoulders in disappointment and head over to your desk, when suddenly, the quiet, mouse-like secretary clears her throat and says: 'excuse me, i know morse code!'

[2/4] you turn around with the same wide eyes as before. 'you do!?' you ask with vigorous exitement, which seems to startle the young woman.
'yes,' she says, 'when i was younger, i planned on joining the navy, so i taught it to myself.' you feel a bit sorry for her, that she wound up as a mere secretary instead of a naval officer, but that feeling of pity didn't stop you from being grateful for the lucky coincidence of her knowing morse code. you show her the pattern.
. - - - - / . . - - - / . . - - - / . . . . . - - - - -
'that's all there is?' she asks, furrowing her brow.
'yeah,' you shrugged, 'it just kept repeating that over and over again. what does it say?'
'one, two, two, fifty.'
your heart sinks a little. 'what is that? what does that mean, is it like a phone number or house address or something?'
the secretary shrugs. 'i'm really sorry, i don't know. it's too short to be a phone number, but beyond decyphering it, i'm afraid i can't help you.'

[3/4] you nod slowly, and though you understand, you are still not at all satisfied. you go to sit at your desk. 1 2 2 50. the sequence plays over and over in your head all day, and needless to say, your curiosity and wonderment got the best of you. it was not a very productive work day.
you head home, and the same damned song plays on the radio. you shake your head as if that would make the song stop, then decide to plug 12250 into your GPS to see if there are any autofill results. none. you become increasingly frustrated.
when oyu get home, your daughter is sitting at the kitchen table, working on homeowrk. she runs up to you and gives you a big hug, and asks about your day at work. you put on a fake smile and sigh. 'interesting,' you say - no doubt sugarcoating the intense excitement, disappointment, and confusion.
'will you help me with my homework? i have to memorise something for my history class tomorrow.'
'of course doll! what are you memorising?'