Dear crackhead who broke my car window on Lester,
Oh where do I start? There's so many things I could say to you or about you. But I'm going to keep it short, sweet and to the point.
You are a soulless, meaningless jerk. You broke into my car through the passenger window. I hope you cut yourself fumbling around my car, and I hope you bled somewhere other than my car.
Who knows if you remember breaking into my car during the first inning of the ALCS game 6 during the 1st inning? Who knows if you know what baseball is? But you are definitely an Indians hater. Cleveland is full of enough dread after their history of coming up a little short this half century as well as the last year. You didn't need to agitate the situation by robbing cars during the Championship Series, dimwit.
The best demonstration of your mental faculties was that while robbing my automobile, you took a Sirius radio, an item that has no cash value, and nothing more. If a pawn shop or any other doofus gave you money for it (which they wouldn't btw), the radio won't be able to be activated after I canceled the subscription and reported it stolen. I realize that logic doesn't make sense to a person who smokes cocaine out of a soda can. But this should: The part that you overlooked even though it should have been obvious to anybody with half a brain was that there was $5 worth of quarters in my ashtray. You should have taken those. Unlike a stolen Sirius radio, quarters actually have a cash value.
I realize that it is a long shot that you might have access to the internet. It might be a stretch that you can read the English language. All I know is that you probably smoke crack while you stumble around thinking the world owes you something. I hope every drug crash you have is annoying as my trip to Safelite to replace the window you broke for $188. I would have paid an extra $20 to watch a video of the dealer turning you down on your crack for a three-year-old, stolen Sirius trade proposal.
I wish you a long life in prison performing fellatio for cigarettes. May your drug stash be cut, may the shack that you sleep in be blown over by a tornado, and may you always use birth control. My car is fixed while your life is in shambles. You broke my window and I still came out on top. Ha ha ha, it sucks to be you, crackhead.
Good day to you, street trash,