Gone Bitch: A Parody of Gone Girl

I’d had to phone my world famous lawyer, hours after I’d hired him, and say the words that I was sure would make him regret ever taking my case: “I think my wife is framing me.” But all Tanner said in response was, “Did you get any naked pictures of the college girl yet?”

Tanner also wanted to talk some strategy, but I told him that I needed to get off the phone because that college girl was actually on her way over to have sex. “What?” Tanner said. “Nick fucking Dunne, you need to end this shit right now!”

“But she said we could do babysitter role play,” I pleaded. Tanner wasn’t having it, though. And he was right. I had to end it tonight.

A few minutes later, Andie arrived, greeting me at the door by saying, “Hi, I’m here for the babysitting job?”

“Uh, Andie,” I said, “we need to talk.”

“Right, about my rates,” she said. “Normally it’s $15 an hour. But for $30 an hour I’ll give you the deluxe babysitting package.” And then she started unbuttoning my pants.

“No Andie, we have to talk, for real.”

“What’s wrong?” she said.

As Tanner had advised me, this needed to be handled exactly right. The key was to break up with her without getting her so pissed that she’d go public. I started reciting the scripted words Tanner had made me memorize.

“What up what up girl! Yo you be da shiznit, but things are gettin’ all crazy up in here and you gotta step off, aight?”

“What? Why are you talking like that?” Andie said.

It wasn’t working. Thanks a lot, Tanner. I’d just have to improvise.

“Look Andie, what I’m trying to say is, we can’t see each other right now.”

Andie’s lip quivered. “For how long?” she said.

“For a lonnnnng time,” I said. “At least until this all blows over.”

She looked like she was about to cry.

“Look Nick, I need to know: once this is over, are you still committed to me? At least until I get all the required credits for my major?”

“Yes,” I said, taking her hands. “I’m completely committed to you.”

My other disposable phone vibrated loudly. I looked at it and read the text message:

Hey babe open the door I’m outside

“Who’s that?” Andie said.

“Uhhhhh,” I said, “it’s a text from you, on the disposable phone I bought to talk to you! Nothing to worry about.”

Andie opened the front door, and was face to face with another girl her same age.

“Katie?”

“Andie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

This was not good. “You guys like three-ways?” I asked. Andie gave me her answer by kicking me in the face, one of those power-kicks she’d learned in CrossFit, which is a name hot girls gave “working out” so they could make themselves feel special.

When I came to, Andie and Katie were long gone and my face felt like a balloon. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my cheek now had a large welt that said “NIKE.”

I replayed the conversation with Andie in my mind and smacked myself. Why had I been so incompetent? I should’ve at least gotten a bj before I broke up with her.

Stupid, Nick. Stupid.