Dear Sir:
Yes, I know people have trouble understanding my little brother when he speaks. This would be due to his speech development having been impaired by the cleft lip and palate he was born with. He has not had the chance to practice certain sounds until fairly recently (due to the fact that he has only had a roof to his mouth for three years), and I am perfectly aware that he sounds quite funny when he speaks almost entirely in vowels. It is sometimes difficult for us, his own family, to understand him.
However, this does not mean my little brother is a “drooling moron”, as you so kindly, and loudly, decided to inform the entire bus today after listening to us having a conversation. Don’t think he didn’t hear you. You made him cry all the way home. My little brother is not mentally inferior to anyone else in any way. He knows most of his letters and numbers and can read simple words. I think you will find that for a five-year-old, this is not all that bad.
And in comparison to you, sir, he is Stephen Hawking. He is a bright, intelligent young boy. You, sir, are the drooling moron. An asshole of the highest degree. Forget about not branching. Based on the copious amount of inbreeding that must have gone on in your family to produce such an abomination to the human race, it’s a wonder your family tree hasn’t turned into circle.
Sir, the next time I come across you, you would do wisely to keep your ignorant, spiteful opinions to yourself. Because if I ever catch you saying things about other people again, I will climb over other people’s heads and bitchslap you so hard that by the time your head has finished spinning around, your face will have fallen off due to centrifugal force.
May you be raped by a mad goat and thrown off a cliff and may rabid dogs fight over your bloodied remains at the bottom of the ravine.
Drop dead, sir. From a great height, if possible.
Ok, I feel a little better now.
