I'd record your voice and mix them up on Garage Band, turning them into songs that had just one word as lyrics. Sometimes, it'd be: Why, sometimes, it'd be: Ass, and sometimes, it'd be: Loser. I'd save them as MP3 & mail them as attachments titled: Voicemail, 1. 2. 3 and so on.
You'd laugh listening to yourself say God ten times with heavy metal drums and electronic piano going crazy in the background. I'd ask you to bang your head to the beat and you'd ask me to bang my head to the wall. For being this ridiculous composer who turned your every word into a song.
Last word you spoke that I turned into a song was: Leave. I never sent you that song. There was no drums, no background music. It was just the word in your voice and its echoes in my head. It was a sad song, not the kind that would have made you laugh. I just mailed it to myself, with the title: Voicemail, Last.
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