An Ode to the Grant Rag

I’m at home listening to electro-scat, when I see a flash of light across the room. Struggling through my weakened knees and bounding towards my phone, my heart practically leaps out of my chest at the thought of another message from my wonderful, freshmen hating, Trout Mask Replica repping hubby.

“Grant Rag” has just uploaded a new Instagram post about a fictional walkout for rapper and Skittles mascot 6ix9ine, who was recently arrested on racketeering charges. I can’t help but blush a little, for, although this “Grant Magazine” parody page has over 1,000 followers, I know for certain they’re speaking specifically for me. They know how I love Scumgang.

They post as many as three times a day, all secretly flirting with me in the process. When they said “Student government attempts coup of grant admin, declares martial law,” my heart warmed at the thought of them posting from the same building where I once juuled in the bathroom. When they wrote “Geography teacher unsure where ‘Brockhampton’ is,” I reveled in their complicated opinions about a topic which I, a middle-class white male with a Soundcloud page, also consider myself an expert on. And I still can’t believe they did surgery on a grape.

But the most damning evidence of GR’s love for me, as I have so included below, is a post from November 11, 2018, in which Grant Rag threw aside their original love, Grant Magazine, and said I was their “new best friend.” Although we may have started as platonic, you know where those situations always lead in the movies. How’s that Miley Cyrus song go?

Now they follow only me on Instagram. Sometimes I think about them just having finished working out or polishing the minivan they borrowed from their mom, opening their phone only to find a selfie of me which I’ve conveniently posted at 9 PM to get maximum likes.

Do they think of me too? Oh, Grant Rag, we were meant to be. If you love me like I love you, add me on Kik. Nobody else wants to.

 

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