Traded My Cousin for Juice Boxes

“My baby cousin broke my Xbox, so I sold him away to the cartel.” Before you call

the FBI, relax. By “sold,” I mean I traded him for three juice boxes

and a pack of gum. I left my cousin alone for TWENTY SECONDS. That’s it.

I turned around to grab Hot Cheetos, and when I came back, my Xbox was on the

floor, my controller was sticky, and the screen looked like it had just

lost a 1v1 to gravity. My cousin just stared at me. No remorse. Just vibes.

I said, “Why would you do this?” He said, “Button.”

This was my Joker origin story. So I texted the family group chat: “Xbox is gone.