Kalah Allen

At the end of an 18-hour workday when I'm finally home in my safe suburban house, drinking a Mike's Hard something, I thank JESUS that I don't live on SE Belmont. Dirty bunch of silver spoon-fed, lazy, no good, stankass crotches! ALL OF YA! You're dirty, and you think you can get away with it because no one wants to confront you aggressive-ass motherfuckers. You don't shave or bathe, or change often and you hate Bush and wish that people like myself in Suburban America would just fuck off and die. FINE, I can live with this. But you dirty sonsabitches keep dropping your fucking cigarette butts on the goddamn sidewalk, porches, driveways, streets, business entries, anywhere your filthy fingers decide to drop the butt—you do. AND GUESS WHAT LAZY MOTHAFUCKAS!! I pick up after your asses. So eat shit and die, and the next time you throw a cigarette on the ground think of me—and I hope you feel the searing pain I am sending through the Galaxy. May it pain you.—Anonymous