You stole my phone the past Saturday night. When you found it at the Star Theater, you didn't turn it into the bar or respond to any of the texts asking for it to be returned. Now, you're making creepy calls to my contacts list.
Fuck you, you piece of human-shaped pile of marmot dung. The fact that you'd hang onto something as personal and essential as a phone is hugely disgusting. I hope you get your eyes plucked out by insane pelicans while wild ferrets gnaw at your genitals. I hope your dreams crumble to dust and and all that you love and hope for dissolves into nothing, you fucking thief. May wild boars feast upon your intestines and vomit them back into your screaming mouth.
It's utterly sickening that you didn't give it back right away. Fuck you, and I hope you get butt cancer.
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