On the night of the great freeze, your ugly homeless ass needed a warm place to sleep. So you broke into my apartment building and found a heavenly hotel I call "the laundry room." But it wasn't bad enough you illegally broke in and bedded down, leaving a stench so ungodly it has emanated all the way to the third floor--no, you had to steal all my fucking laundry, too. Thanks, fuckface. You probably assume that because I live in a shithole, I must be an independently wealthy millionaire. But what you did not realize as you were layering MY clothes on your piss-drenched corpse was that that load of laundry consisted of all but one of my workshirts ($25 each), two pairs of work pants ($60), and two out-of-print Texas Chainsaw Massacre T-shirts that are irreplaceable. I hope when you get so drunk you shit MY pants and clean yourself up with MY T-shirt you realize that your little sleepover cost me $200. Beware: the first hobo I see with Leatherface on his shirt will face something much colder than January 15th. --Anonymous
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