This is a hate letter. Subject: I hate you.
Dear Bitchy Girls at work:
I hate you ALL. I hope your boyfriends CHEAT ON YOU. With your own BROTHERS. I hope you go to buy that fabulous new top, and they're ALL SOLD OUT. I hope your credit card details get STOLEN, and the thief buys lots and lots of HORSE PORN with it. I hope your brand new Prada bags get black dye SPILT ON THEM. I hope your cars gets KEYED. I hope your landlords KICKS YOU OUT. I hope your skirts gets ripped and everyone can see you're not wearing any underwear, YOU SKANKS. I hope you go to the hairdresser to get your hair done, and it all FALLS OUT. I hope your new Dior shoes all FALL APART. While you're wearing them, so you have to walk home on BARE FEET. I hope you LOSE YOUR PURSES, I hope you TRIP and FALL and SKIN YOUR KNEES, I hope your parents tell you you're ADOPTED, I hope you know how HORRIBLE you make ME feel sometimes.
No Love,
Rhiannon.
I hate you ALL. I hope your boyfriends CHEAT ON YOU. With your own BROTHERS. I hope you go to buy that fabulous new top, and they're ALL SOLD OUT. I hope your credit card details get STOLEN, and the thief buys lots and lots of HORSE PORN with it. I hope your brand new Prada bags get black dye SPILT ON THEM. I hope your cars gets KEYED. I hope your landlords KICKS YOU OUT. I hope your skirts gets ripped and everyone can see you're not wearing any underwear, YOU SKANKS. I hope you go to the hairdresser to get your hair done, and it all FALLS OUT. I hope your new Dior shoes all FALL APART. While you're wearing them, so you have to walk home on BARE FEET. I hope you LOSE YOUR PURSES, I hope you TRIP and FALL and SKIN YOUR KNEES, I hope your parents tell you you're ADOPTED, I hope you know how HORRIBLE you make ME feel sometimes.
No Love,
Rhiannon.