To the brain-dead fuck who tried to break into my apartment, and made me waste a day of my life to testify:
Hey, nut fungus. You’re guilty. Say so and take your lumps.
Here’s the scenario: This stupid bastard tries to get in through my bedroom window one night, while I was home. I caught him at it, called 911, the cops show up, cuff him, and drag his sorry ass off to jail. See, I live on the third floor, and I have no balcony. So, he got trapped on the three-inch-wide windowsill, and that’s where he stayed until the police arrived. And I can’t emphasize this enough, STILL TRYING TO BREAK IN when the cops showed up.
I saw you trying to break in. The cops saw you trying to break in. Half the goddamn neighbourhood saw you trying to break in.
So why are you insisting on pleading not guilty? You fucking brain-damaged, fly-covered sack of llama shit! Have you been taking legal advice from reruns of Kids in the Hall? Like what, you’re gonna convince a jury that you were out for a breath of fresh air ON MY WINDOWSILL?
So now I have to waste my day hanging around the courthouse waiting to testify against you. Oh, and by the way, a dirty t-shirt, baggy jeans and a do-rag do NOT constitute appropriate attire in a court of law, you scrotum-licking waste of carbon. Especially if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not guilty, like you are, needle dick.
I hope you’re being swapped around the cell block like a well-worn copy of Barely 18, you walking justification for more effective birth control.
Feh.