Dear motherfucker

Dear motherfucker who busted my car window,

how are you? i hope you are fine. scratch that. i hope that when you broke the window, glass splinters kicked back at you and got into your eye. I am not bitter. not at all.

why did you break my window? did you want the 2 day old coffee sitting there? or was it the pile of old newspapers that attracted you? probably not the newspaper, since i doubt you can actually read at all. maybe you just wanted to look at the pictures. I don't know. you should've just left a note. i would've gladly donated a picture book to you.

in your infinite wisdom, you didn't take my cds sitting in plain view on the passenger seat, or my wallet and cell phone in the center console, or my shoes at the bottom of the passenger seat, or my golf clubs in the trunk. in fact, come to think of it, you didn't get shit, did you? what a fucking retard. i guess i should thank you. or maybe your mom for dropping you on your head when you were a baby.

well, i hope you are happy now that you've busted a stranger's window. a window of a car sitting in an elementary school, no less. can you go any lower? all the babies in strollers with milk bottles had better watch out. there's no telling with you, i suppose.

i will never know who you are or what you're thinking, but just remember, karma's a bitch. i am pretty much a walking testament of that.

sincerely not bitter (not at all. really),
Ed