Mr Joint Facebook Account

Karen and Stanley’s marriage is a lot like wanking in a mate’s sleeping bag: sure it feels comfortable, but ultimately it ruins friendships. Near friendless but in love, Stanley sails the lonely sea of isolation, guided only by the shining star of his yearly tooth-happy birthday gobby. 

One fateful night, Stanley consumed his permitted 6pack in record speed. Drunk on misadventure, he ripped off his shirt and sent a blurry topless mirror selfie to a babe’ing coworker. The grainy snap was heavy on the under chin angle and about as sexy as an airport toilet glory hole. Stanley waited with bated breath. Seen. But never replied. 

To make matters worse, Stanley has been accepting friend requests from the random large endowed women he assumes are attracted to his terrible selfies and pictures of cars he doesn’t own. His friend list is littered with more scammers than a Nigerian web cafe.

Unbeknownst to Stanley, Karen has checked his phone ever since a “random sluz” liked his profile picture in 2014. World War 3 erupts and after weeks of sleeping on the couch, a treaty is agreed on. Stanley was about to enter the emasculating world of joint Facebook account ownership. He will never be able to forgive himself for betraying his love, but at least he can atone for it.

“Karen andStan” wasted no time making its mark on social media. Every photo posted was of Karen and her girls and the endless Minion memes led their contacts to believe that Stanley was barely even a co-pilot on this starship cunterprise. Nevertheless, there was always an undue confusion as to who the fark was actually using the account. 

Karen receives a notification about a poker night with “live entertainment”. She permits Stanley to temporarily re-attach his balls and use the account to let them know he was “maybe attending”. He comments, “Sounds good guys, would love to come”. Karen snatches her phone back, and replies to the comment, “ha ha if he gets permission!!!! Ha ha”. 

The exchange sends dickless shockwaves down Stanley’s spine. He has had enough and replies again, “p*ss off Karen!”. Holy shiiiiit, it’s on.

The red mist of detected insubordination fogs Karen’s vision. She goes into attack mode and replies, “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!! Guys, he thinks he is a big man, but trust me, he is VERY SMALL”. 

The capslockery stokes his masculine wiles, “I’ve bl**dy had enough babe! I’m going to the event and that is that, Chr*st almighty”. 

The atmosphere is tense with anticipation. Stanley’s barely-mates are desperate to know who emerged the victor of this clusterfuck of awkwardness. Well, they don’t have to wait long, as Karen andStan post a status update:

“I would you all to know that Stanley is very sorry for the comments he made on FB and says he will definitely be taking his lovely wife Karen out for dinner tonight! Xoxo”. Jesus.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?