To whoever scrawled the following message:
"Dear Peter, go fuck yourself. Thanks for putting a nice scratch in my brand new used guitar you pothead peice of shit. Grow the fuck-up ."
on my green bin, I would like to point out that nobody by the name of Peter lives at this address nor anywhere on this street as far as I know. I believe you owe me the kindness of coming back to clean up the mess you made.
|mis-identified victim of a childish, semi-literate, moron|