Mar 06, 2010 19:55
Dear Paradisa;
If you expect me to do menial labour in order to live in this latest twisted little nightmare of yours, you have another thing coming. Anthony Crowley does not work for his bread. Or his wine. Or for anything.
Oh, and by the way, your choice of room-mate for me? A rock would have been more useful and wanted.
Die in a hole,
Crowley.
a.j.crowley