While you were out there, I realized I was in a position to return a little bit of what you dished out. 30 seconds later I was in the bathroom, emptying my bladder into a discarded soda can. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, I opened your dryer and carefully poured every last drop of my urine over your T-shirts, underwear, and football jerseys. I shut the door, plugged in an extra quarter (my treat!) and restarted your machine. I then packed my clothing and high-tailed it out of there.
I don't know which would be better--if you never figured it out, or if you eventually smelled the truth. What goes around sometimes needs a little help coming around, and assholes like you don't get what's due nearly enough. Sure, you could probably kick my ass, but you never got the chance. I got away clean. You're the one wearing pissy clothes, motherfucker.--Anonymous