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cookmarieke

BirdGut [crack]







































I'm not sure what I expected to find when I came home from work today. It wasn't this. My lawn was littered with glass. Two windows had been smashed and any kind of garbage had been tossed everywhere, including paper and shards of glass and the plastic casing for a computer monitor, which was just sitting in my backyard like someone might just come by and pick it up off the ground because that's how clean we keep our neighborhood. But then there it is: BirdGut [crack]. If you're reading this, BirdGut [crack], I have a question for you. Why is it that I have to explain to my children that they should not be peeing in the yard? My daughter is 8 and my son is 5, and already they understand that a bathroom exists in a structure behind our house where the trash is supposed to go. And now, because of people like you, my children have been named upon as witnesses. In the afternoons, my children will tell me stories about what went on at school or how they want to be when they grow up or whatever perverts their progressive education has taught them today. Sometimes they draw me pictures, because my children are the only people I know who still do that. They are innocent souls. At the end of the day, I read them their daily story. And that's why I can't let your crime go unpunished. My house was broken into by you and two of your accomplices some time between 3:30 and 4:30 PM while my children were home playing in their room (the room with the second window you smashed). Their room burns the brightest in the whole house. It has a bed with a red blanket and a white top, but all four of their pillows are pink. They also have a dresser, a toy box full of toys, and walls covered in posters. The floor is covered in LEGOs and Beanie Babies and stuffed animals because my kids don't make messes when they play. Because you're illiterate, BirdGut [crack], I'll explain what it is that you tried to steal from my children: A bunch of Beanie Babies that were given to them by an uncle who passed away recently. They're not worth anything. If they were worth something, maybe I wouldn't have paid for them. And the Legos are always going missing from my house. I know someone somewhere is going to steal those Legos and sell them. I know it. And then they'll be stolen again and sold again, until a kid in a gang finds a way into that house and steals them from those kids' homes because those kids don't have any money to spare for LEGOS. And now your life will never be as cheap as it is today. eccc085e13

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