Random Number: Do you know what those gossip websites would say about me if I wore a shirt with my own face on it?
Cooper: Yeah, unfortunately. Sorry about the attacks on your jewelry, by the way. That’s dumb.
Random Number: *picture of a wrist with a kitty cat charm bracelet and a hand petting a black-and-white cat’s head*
Random Number: Eh. I like the jewelry, so I don’t much care. And it’s free publicity.
Cooper: It’s still dumb. Bet you a home-cooked Cooper Rock Dessert of Fabulousness that if I launched a line of charm bracelets, people would think it was the coolest thing ever, and that’s not because I overflow with awesome. Double standards make me want to give someone a wedgie.
Random Number:And how many wedgies do you give out in a year?
Cooper: Sorry. That’s super secret. Classified. NDA-level stuff. All I can say is, Beck Ryder asked my opinion about a new line of shorts for his fashion empire, and I know he’ll be calling any minute now to ask me to be the official spokesperson of his wedgie-proof underwear. I haven’t been able to give ANYONE a wedgie with those things. They’re a modern miracle.
Random Number: Beck’s wife is one of my favorite people on the entire planet.
Cooper: Whoa. You know Sarah?
Random Number: We grew up next door to each other. She used to help babysit me when my nanny was having a rough day.
Cooper: No. Fucking. Way.
Cooper: Wait. Am I allowed to say fuck around you? Is that against the WSCOE?
Random Number: Yes she did, yes you can, and what is the WSCOE?
Cooper: The You Code of Ethics.
Random Number: *selfie of Waverly making awhat the fuck are you talking about?face*
Cooper: Oh, hey! Those are your real eyelashes! Do the other ones make it hard to keep your eyes open? Sometimes I see you on TV and I’m like, “Is she squinting, or did someone go overboard with the fake lashes?” But when I ask my lash-extension-wearing friends and relatives, they tell me it’s a secret.
Waverly, henceforth known as Baseball Cheater in Cooper’s phone: It is definitely a secret.
Cooper: I like your real eyelashes.
Baseball Cheater: You can’t even see my real eyelashes.
Cooper: That’s why I like them. They’re real.
Baseball Cheater: I…don’t know what to say to that.
Cooper: It’s a good thing.
Baseball Cheater: Very few people compliment my real eyelashes.
Cooper: You’re hanging out with the wrong people. Want me to tell you that your knuckles are adorable too?
Baseball Cheater: Sadly, you wouldn’t be the first.
Cooper: WHAT? Whoever it was doesn’t think they’re as adorable as I do.
Baseball Cheater: Stalker.
Cooper: I am many things, Lady Baseball Cheater, but I am not a stalker. Unless we’re talking about those secret mascot costumes that management thinks I don’t know about that were delivered to Duggan Field under the cover of night three weeks ago that might or might not be related to that awesome Fiery the Dragon fanfic that’s going viral right now. Then I’m a stalker.
Baseball Cheater:No, I meant it was a stalker who liked my knuckles.
Cooper: *jaw dropped emoji*
