To the Asshole(s) Who Broke into the Garage Last Night (a variation on the letter written to the asshole(s) who broke into my car a few months ago) –
Hi. My name is Crystal. I wanted to introduce myself to you since I will be spending all of today and probably the rest of the weekend thinking about you. Sending special wishes your way. Can you feel it yet? If not, don’t worry. You will. Fucktard.
You seem to have left your bike behind. It was in the middle of the street a couple of doors down. What I find interesting is that your bike is missing the seat. No wonder you wanted to break into the garage and get a new bike – that must have hurt! Or, perhaps you have a metal ass that fits on top of the pole, no need for a seat. I doubt it, though. If you had a metal ass, there are probably other things you could do with that instead of breaking into the garage. Jim Rose Circus or something. So my hope is that shortly before invading my personal space, you hit a bump, causing your ass to hit the seatless pole of the bike, and it ruptured your anus. Just a humble wish from me to you!
But you took TWO bikes. I think you had a friend with you. Maybe you were on a first date! How charming! Hey, you gotta distract her from that small dick covered with STD scars, right? I heard you talking in my driveway at some point in the middle of the night, but I chalked it up to my over-active imagination. Should have paid more attention, but I often hear stuff that ends up being other stuff. If only I had gotten up, I could have watched you ride off on our bikes like a proud father watching his seven-year-old teeter-totter down the street. Why teeter-totter? Because we hadn’t gone bike riding in a while, I know those tires were flat. In fact, we noticed you took the bike pump with you. How resourceful you are! Guess you hobbled a street over and then pumped up those tires. That pump sucks, doesn’t it? I always get more of a workout airing up the tires than I do on the actual bike ride. I hope those bikes and the other shit you stole makes for great Christmas presents or crack money or goes toward your metal-ass-replacement surgery. I’ll be pulling for you to come out of anesthesia. Ahem.
Thanks for making me a little more paranoid. Gotta be like a rabbit in the woods, right? Always looking over your shoulder to see who’s going to fuck you over next? Screw that. And screw you.
Until I run you over while you’re out riding my bike,