If you swing by my apartment anytime in the next 2 months, you'll probably hear my girl Kaitlin or me use the word muerte. According to google translator, muerte means death in Spanish.
It all started when one time I put a paper towel on our stove top. Apparently the stove was still heated? It started smoking. Kaitlin yelled "Fuego!" And I responded, "Fuego. Muerte." Kaitlin got sick for a week, "Enferma. Muerte." Cute boy hasn't called yet? "Muerte." Running late? "Muerte." It's become the end-all, be-all, describe-all phrase for everything bad or scary or overly exciting.
So last night our friend Scott came by and Kaitlin was telling him about her recent illness. I said, as per tradition, "Muerte." Scott, bless his heart, responded,
"La muerte. It'll kill ya every time."
True that.
You're silly, but I like you.
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