Gone Bitch: A Parody of Gone Girl
Gone Bitch: Part 2 – Chapter 31

Even though I’m 75 miles outside of Carthage, I’m as up-to-date on the situation there as if I were still at home, thanks to the wall-to-wall cable news coverage. At one point this morning when I was riding the exercise bike, my face was simultaneously on all six of the TVs in the cardio area. Unfortunately I have to watch the coverage with captions rather than sound, because the club still has that sound system only health clubs have where you have to listen to the TVs through an FM radio. WHO HAS AN FM RADIO ANYMORE?

I’m not surprised Andie hasn’t broken yet and gone to the press. If she goes public, that means she’ll actually have to do schoolwork to pass her classes. But she’ll break eventually. I know Andie’s a sharer because I’m one of her Facebook friends, and I see what she posts. Actually, I’m two of her Facebook friends: I created two fake accounts that look like college students, and she was only too happy to increase her friend numbers when I friended her. Now my two fake Facebook personalities get into drawn-out arguments in the comments of Andie’s posts. It’s hilarious.

I seem to have made a couple of friends at the club. I hadn’t planned on talking to anyone during my stay here, but it’s kind of hard to stay completely under the radar when you’re living with people 24 hours a day.

My two new friends are clearly both doing what I’m doing and living here round the clock. First, there’s Jeff. Jeff supports himself by stealing from the lockers in the men’s locker room. I know this because I see him wearing articles of clothing that I remember other gym members wearing the day before.

My other friend is Greta. Greta joined the gym a few days ago, and I’d noticed her because she reminded me of me: a hot girl looking a bit disheveled and clearly not in her normal environment. One day we were on the ellipticals next to each other, and my hot girl instinct to bond superficially with other hot girls took over and I decided to say something.

“So, you faking your own murder too?”

“Huh?” she said, clearly having no idea what I was talking about.

I really need to be more careful.

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