Showing articles tagged Bitches
Day Thirteen
A letter to someone who has hurt you recently.
Dear Evil Legal Secretary,
Yes, it's me. The guy that did nothing wrong that you recently spoke to at your internet provider. How have you been? I've been spending a lot of time thinking about you lately.
You may think that I'm writing this letter as a form of retaliation for the unnecessary verbal abuse I suffered for close to an hour simply by answering your call.
But I would never do that. I know that you can't help being an evil succubus, it's not your fault. No doubt you were destined to be a beautifully kind, stardust sprinkling, orphan adopting saint but somehow one of your ancestors sacrificed a goat to Satin instead of Satan, (it was an accent thing, rather than a lack of knowledge about the reigning CEO of the underworld) condemning you to a lifetime of doing the devil's handiwork, i.e. being a grade A, top ranking, award winning, world acclaimed fucking mole.
The way you shouted constantly to belittle me was impressive, and you clearly studied for years at Bitch School to be able to twist my words so easily to 'illustrate' your incredibly deluded point. I at no time was judging you for the fact that you are too mind bogglingly dim to answer a question about whether one or two phone lines are listed on the Telstra bill in front of you. In fact, I applauded the fact that you emailed a co-worker telling them that you 'weren't a technician' and you thought we 'had people' to deal with such 'trivial matters'. You were obviously busy filling out your membership application to Mensa and had other things on your mind.
It was an especially nice touch to demand a refund on work you commissioned and cancelled because you'd been too thick to understand what you were ordering. The fact that you don't understand the process of 'ordering an internet connection' is perfectly understandable. After all, you not only have to tell us a phone number, you then have to exhaust all your mental capacity by telling us you'd like the internet on that number. All I can do is apologise, pat you on your beasty, horned little head and say 'There, there, you brain dead, evil, lying, condescending, life sucking waste of space'.
Above all I'd like to say that the panic attack I suffered immediately after your increasingly psychopathic call coupled with your obvious delight at bringing a grown man close to tears was totally deserved and at no time do I blame you for causing it. The subsequent humiliation wasn't at all damaging to me and I know that the fact that you have to suffer that awful 'VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH' sound (you know - like blowing across the neck of a bottle) coming from your vagina every time you stand in a light breeze is no doubt incredibly mentally scarring.
Lastly, I would like to wish you well. As in, I hope you end up at the bottom of one, you insufferable bitch.
Sincerely,
Seb.