Just help me, me!

“I don’t know, just help me!” Your - Shannon’s - voice squeaks. Your throat aches.

“Are you in danger?”

“I’m at a bar on a date or some shit with a guy I don’t know, and I don’t know what to do!” You whine with Shannon’s voice. Your vision blurs with her tears.

“Okay, calm down, me,” Sam says.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You sniff loudly and grab a paper towel as Shannon’s tears start to roll down her flawless cheeks.

“Sam! Get a hold of yourself, man!” The Sam on the phone yells. You wail:

“I’M SCARED!”

“What, the minute you lose your dick you start acting like a pussy? I could do better than that and I’m fucking lit right now!”

“Hey, shut the fuck up, you are doing that! Right now, you’re me, and I’m doing…” the tears slow down. You wipe the rest of them away.

“Who are you?” He - Sam - asks.

“I’m Sam,” You say.

"That's right! You're Sam, I'm Sam, and we're number one! Are you going to cry like a bitch again?"

"No!"

"Are you going to be a fucking man now?"

"Yeah!" Your - Shannon's - high voice contradicts you, but you really mean it. Something as simple as being a girl in a bar would never be too much for you. You're Sam the man, and you love girls in bars. You're practically an expert on girls in bars.

“Fuck yeah! Man, this is trippy,” Sam - you - laughs.

“You don’t get to talk about how trippy this is!” You giggle with Shannon’s voice. Her pretty eyes look red in the mirror. You blow her nose. Though she doesn’t look sad anymore, you can tell she’s been crying. You want to protect her, even though you sort of are her.

“Okay, so, uh, go over the facts. Who is this “Shannon”, aside from a girl with a really nice ass?” He asks.