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Internet? Make him stop.
MAKE HIM STOP.
———- Original message ———-
From: Thérèse
Date: Sep 29, 2007 2:56 AM
Subject: I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry
To: Cymbria
Cymbria, I’m sorry I swore so much today. Really, really sorry. It slipped out, a lot, today, and I am sorry about that.
I’ve been thinking about it for the last ten minutes, which is what got me out of my bed and to the computer.
This is mostly due to the fact that for the least hour, a guy has been yelling at the top of his lungs, saying “fuck” every other word, with vehemence, and did I mention at the top of his lungs? I’m tired. I’m so tired. It’s 2:51AM. I want him to shut up. Or die. Or just cease to exist outside my bedroom window. Why is it so echo-y and loud and resonating around here?
I don’t even know what he’s saying, but what could he POSSIBLY have to say that would last this long, this loud, for this long? This is long!
God. Karma, she keeps score. So yes. Back to my apology. I’m sorry, Cymbria. I didn’t mean to inflict that sort of hostility on you. I didn’t mean to be hostile. I just liked using the word today, I don’t know why. I rarely swear.
I SWEAR, TEN more MINUTES of this and I will go out on the balcony and give that asshole a piece of my strung-out, tired, irritated, wrathful mind.
SHUT UP, YOU BASTARD.
Not you. The guy outside.
I don’t even know if this email is coherent. Not wearing glasses. Can’t see. Trusting fingers.
God.
I AM GOING TO STRANGLE THAT GUY.
So yeah. I promise not to swear so much. If this is payment for that, I will not swear at all for weeks and weeks and weeks, I promise. Not even in my head. I won’t even have conversations with characters that swear. I”ll ignore htem.
SHUT UP YOU BASTARD. NO ONE CARES AND I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND KILL YOU. Or maybe call the cops and get them to do it for me.
I wonder if I can do that….
OH GOD NOW A BITCH IS ADDING HER TWO CENTS. WITH EQUAL VOLUME.
If they start arguing, so help me god, I will not bother with glasses, I will not bother with shoes, I will only bother with A LENGTH OF ROPE OR A KNIFE OR SOMETHING.
*starts to whimper*
I WANT TO SLEEEEEEP…
Therese: I’m so proud. Dad, I applied for 5 jobs today.
Dad: You ate FIVE hot dogs today??!?
Therese: …
Dad: !
Therese: Yes, Dad.
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