Bitch,
I love you. You are one of my best friends in the world. A day without you is a day without fucking sunshine. But what you did to me ‘as a joke’ last month has become nothing less than a bloodboiling terror.
It was a little bit funny when we were both drunk and you said,
“we had a telemarketer call us, and you know we like to fuck with them”
Ha ha! Sure, who doesn’t? Telemarketers are born to be fucked with…
“anyway, we told her that we weren’t interested in buying her magazines, but then gave her your phone number and said that you’ll buy anything!”
Ha. what?
“I told her that you LOVE telemarketers! HAHAHAHAH”
what?
“Oh come on, it was just a joke. Pretty funny, eh?”
no
Now, a month later, I get no less than three telemarketing phone calls a day, sometimes all within ten minutes of each other. I know it’s not difficult for me to just hang up on them or tell them I’m not interested
but holy living christ! If I had done that to you, you’d have my head. And you know that in my line of work I cannot have an unlisted number.
So just keep laughing, cocksocket. And if you’re wondering why I haven’t talked to you much lately, it ain’t because I’m busy.
I’m just laying in wait.
<insert quiet ominous music here>
For revenge, my sweet, is a dish best served cold.
With a nice salad and some new red potatoes on the side.
jarbaby