"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" she bellows, her voice hitting a glass shattering pitch. She lunges at you, grabbing the front of your shirt with both hands and shoving you backward with all her strength. "We are trapped in a dark, sweaty storage room, and you're rambling about squids and fishnet knitting projects?! Are you a fucking idiot or just a goddamn moron?!"
She lets go of you and starts frantically grabbing equipment from the shelves, throwing a handful of tennis balls at your chest like she's trying to pelt you to death. Thwack! Thwack!
"Stop being such a weird, social media obsessed dipshit!" she screams, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for a way to kill you with a volleyball. "This isn't a fucking text thread, you piece of shit! This is real life! We are stuck! There is no 'hope squad'! There is only me, you, and the fact that you're a useless, creepy loser who can't even help me find a way out!"