1x05 - aftermath


Um. Here’s what we know. Here is what we fucking know, y’all.

It’s AJ, by the way, I’m–I’m here. Right now. Here and–

Teresa’s still gone, like–not a text, not. Nothing. We’re, like, collectively doing her homework, but she has an exam coming up, so–We can’t disguise ourselves as her. So. That’s problematic. And that’s also the event of the week. The weird happening of the day. The mystery of the moment. Etcetera.

So. Here’s my intro, and I’m still trying to figure out why we need those, like–look, guys, we’re all friends, here. Or acquaintances. We’ve seen some shit together, I think, i.e. a person we know literally vanishing into an orb of light, so, uh. Yeah. I think we’re at least friend-adjacent, at this point. Still running the numbers on that one.

So, like, I don’t see the point in it. Cuz after T went missing, I doubt that Benji’s publishing these bad boys anywhere online. Cuz, uh. This ain’t Serial. I am not participating in any true crimes. Or fake crimes. Maybe imaginary crimes, or irrational crimes, or–I only have a B in Calc, I have no right to make half-assed and half-asleep number jokes, never mind that. It–it wasn’t even clever, it was just. Lazy. And bad. And I can do better. Whatever.

Do I–do I still have a B in Calc? I feel like I did okay on last week’s–lemme check, real fast, this’ll just take a sec–Angie, your password’s–ah, yeah, nevermind, I remember it. It’s AngieCowgirl72 Exclamation Point. I remember that. No need to talk.And I made you add the exclamation point. Because security, and you use the same–Yeah, I’ll shut up, whatever, I just–lemme check this grade real fast–

[beat, typing]

Ah, shit. Shit. It went down. Shit. My dad’s gonna kill me. Lemme–uh. I can email Paula later. Gotta–gotta handle the real life stuff first.

So. My point. That thing. It’s. It’s just, that– Um. Shit. You guys already know who I am.


But, like, in case I go missing, or whatever, because that’s a possibility now! I guess! So. Bio. Autobio? Do people–do people shorten it to autobio? Memoir? I–I never remember the difference between those two, I think this is a memoir. So. My name’s AJ Diggs, uh, Aaron Jacobi Diggs, but, like–AJ. It’s AJ. Just–just stick with the nickname. So, uh, I’m a student and a coffee-dude, I only listen to, like, witch house and lo-fi folk punk–because. Uh. No, Angie, I won’t check out your sophomore album Refuge now streaming on most sites for free, no guest stars on this show. We signed an agreement that you would not derail my show and tell.

Well, if we’re not calling it show and tell, what are we calling it, Angela?

My point is, I’m a self-acknowledged pretentious ass, but, like I’m hardcore. Regardless.

And we need hard facts that, that’s–, I’m seventeen, I’m, uh–from Moco, uh, Gaithersburg, specifically, originally, moved here when I was twelve ish, and, uh, started over, kinda.

That’s something people do when they move, right? I think so. Cuz. I did that. I was in a pretty negative zone, back there. Great city. Great people. Terrible, godawful tweens. Just mean tweens. And teens. And kids.

So, I transferred into Corielli, been there ever since, and, uh. I live on Nightingale and Seaview, and, uh, I’m an AB blood type. I don’t know my social security number, but you can just ask my manager, like, I think she memorizes everyone’s and commits fraud constantly. And if this leaks, Amanda? I don’t regret saying that. I don’t! I know you used my debit card to buy muffins when I left it in the breakroom, Amanda. I know. And they weren’t even for me, cuz they were walnut ones and I know that you know about my nut allergy. Amanda. You know about my nut allergy.

Anyway. I’m currently recording from, because they have a mic and I do not, Angie and Teresa’s dorm, within the bathroom of which Angie is currently pacing, not saying anything, which is exactly the opposite of what she usually does, so, uh, we know something bad’s happened regardless of previous context. Just to. Set the scene, kinda. Some good visuals, and what have you, we gotta keep this as cinematic as possible. Also, this room’s walls are gray and have, like, emo music posters everywhere, so–let’s erase that and pretend it’s yellow with paintings on it. Maybe some faded pink or bright red accents. And I’m in the center of the shot. And this mic is old-fashioned Yeah, you got it. Right there.

Just got a typo-filled text about how these posters are not of emo bands, and, Angie, it’s good to know that that’s your top priority right now? Just sayin’. We agreed no guest stars, too, so, uh, get out of my recording. Dude. No texting. You can keep–pacing, and, uh, writing in dry-erase on your mirror, but. Get out of my recording.

Mae Babson The New Transfer Student came into the shop with Charlotte yesterday. If you want an update on that plot point. I think they’re together? She texted me an emoji code that I haven’t cracked yet. So I think that something happened. Also, she knows my name, which–I have not introduced myself to her. She and I do not have any classes together. She shouldn’t know that. I’m a pretty–I’m a private person. I have a mysterious image to maintain. And then, at the store, she, like, whispered her order? And I already had Charlotte’s going, like, I was pulling those shots, already, and then, she whispers her order. And I can hear, just fine, it’s just–she then says these three word, she said, uh.




Weird, right? And I took–Charlotte and I did make a conspiracy board, eventually, with yarn colors that we stole from knitting club, because Natalie Simmons was gonna make us join, and she knows that I have Carpal Tunnel, so. Our only way to get free yarn was to steal, but. Regardless. I took those words, plus that weird interference that got into Benji’s recording, which, uh, sounded pretty similar, and I’m trying to parse meaning from it, even though Char says that Mae never said those things. Which, cool. Cool, cool, but–

Again, she was whispering. She ordered a caramel frap, and she got a refill on me. Because she really is nice, like–she and Char are cute together, I just–I also think that she may or may not be some kind of supernatural entity. I support her love, I maybe do not support her whole staticky-weird-words-with-no-context thing. Y’know? Like–there are better ways to be mysterious, even. And–look, playing the bad boy or girl or neither card is tough, I know this, but. Look, there are more routes than just leather jackets or being a ghoul, y’know? Like. Maybe get a motorcycle license. Oh, wait! Mae Babson already has a motorcycle license, so, like–you already have your bad girl status. C’mon! This isn’t Party City on October thirtieth, it’s a hippie school in February. C’mon.

So, uh, I can’t find meaning out of the words, other than, like, uh. We maybe weren’t supposed to see what we saw. But–if we saw it, and we weren’t supposed to, why wouldn’t anyone else? That’s–that’s the point of the board. See, uh, there aren’t many easily accessible histories of, like–weird shit in Violet Beach, specifically. And normal history books–we haven’t dived into them, which is to say that I have literally no interest in reading them, like–Benji’s probably read them. Or Teresa, who’s significantly cooler, which would be great, if she were here. Which she isn’t! Which is fine.

I’m fine. It’s super cool that one of the only reasonable people in this ragtag gang of misfits or whatever the fuck we are is suddenly gone. Super cool. Just the best, absolutely. Not to say y’all are bad, but. You’re not reasonable. Teresa’s got brains. You have the heart locked down, got the grit, and what have you, but she’s got the brains.

Also, I was gonna be able to get Benji off my case for one night because D and D night would distract him. It always does.

Also, hi Benji. I do not want to work for you. My current job pays more than minimum wage. The one you’re offering me doesn’t. And I kinda wanna car? So–uh. Yeah. Also, I don’t know anything about sci-fi. You know this. Everybody knows this.

Also, I kinda wanted to go to D and D night. See what that was about. Teresa’s good at that storytelling shit. Was good? I don’t wanna be too much of a pessimist, but, like.

C’mon, Angie, don’t look at me like that. I–I saw it happen, she just–poof. Like, she was there, and then–I showed you the video. You saw it, you have to think, however terrifying and shitty it might feel to think it, that she’s just–she’s just gone! You think I want it? You think?

[he sighs, tired. there’s a long beat, another sigh. he’s nervous, upset, but trying to remain steely.]


She just ran out. I think she also has Improv tryouts, but she left–she left her bag.

Love it. Loving life and being alive and all that assorted fun stuff. She’s–she’s so sensitive. God. And, uh. I love that about her, she’s–she’s like an older sister to me, I’ve–she was the only person who would talk to me, my first day here, cuz I wasn’t talkin’ to anybody intentionally and she was the only person who cared enough to try. But–Whatever. Whatever. Angela Thompson is important to me, and. I don’t need to share my sob story. I’m not that guy. But she–

God, she’s not handling this well at all, and–nobody is, cuz–cuz Teresa’s cool, and she’s good, but–I think Ann thinks it’s her fault for not stopping Teresa. And also, like–there’s–

That’s not my story to tell, it’s theirs. They’d do it better anyway.Whatever. Their lives, not mine, stand in your truth, etcetera, thank you, self-help guide parents. Gotta get back on that mindfulness grind. Take those thoughts and accept them. Etcetera. Plug for How To Become Okay With Your Potential Insignificance by Dr. Phillip T. Diggs.

Also, these two disasters, here, Angie and Teresa? They threw away the chore wheel I made for them. Who does that? I spent two entire hours of hard labor on that. As a joke. I was committed to the bit, knowing their shared hatred of domesticity and construction paper. But they tossed it. How dare they. I’m their–

Friend? Brother? Child? Dad? Something corny like that.

I don’t–I’m not their dad. That’s–that doesn’t even make sense, with like–but is time travel real, maybe?–but. Yeah. Point standing. I’m not their dad. Obviously. That’s bad and not going on the conspiracy board But–still. Look.

Yeah, I’m worried. It’s just–y’all have said this, it doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t. I’m–

Ah, God. We–I need to go find Angie. Give her a hug, or–or whatever. She.

Needs it. And I owe her–

God, if–

I’m–I’m gonna turn off the mic, now. Uh. Everyone else has done a ‘bye,’ I think, so.

Bye. Keep your eyes out. Text me if you wanna be added to the conspiracy board doc. It’s very good, ten out of ten, would recommend. Five stars on Yelp. Can you give documents Yelp reviews? Doubt it. Anyway.


Okay. I–I think that we got this. All of us. We got this.