Saturday, March 31, 2012

Letters to F

F: Dear H, I don't care what happens as long as I get to kill shit. Sincerely, F

H: Dear F, Typhoon Harridan! don't hawk out at me – H

F: Dear H, I'm not. I'm with you on this one. Just tell me who to split. Sincerely, F

H: Let's be real for a moment. I used to be just like you, full of apples and kanger. Then I learned how to cook stir-fry, sew backpacks and fix motorcycles. Have a good one. - H

F: I need your sayso before I gogo on these cholos.

I don't even know what that means, F.

Take yourself down a peg, it'll do you a world of good. - H

H - Maybe you forgot what you owe me and what it means to not even want anymore. Peg yourself down
a take and throw out the rice cooker while you're add it.

F - H, upgrade your attitude. You know how to make Powerpoints, that doesn't equip your for life in killing fields, trust me, okay. F.

H. Con your way up the food chain all you like but sooner or later you're going to find the window of opportunity slamming shut on your fingertips causing blood runs and possibly liver flukes.

Nevermind. I don't even want to have this conversation. (equals parts conversation and letter-type document –ed.) It's over. I never want to hear of you again. H.

F: Too bad. In the old days they never got to have sweets. Now you're a regular Sweets McGee. So- ---what-you-gonna-gonna-do-abit-it? - H

H: Forget for a moment that you're a twelve-year-old loser that thinks just because you knocked over a liquor store you're some kind of Jedi Knight. Listen what I have to say: there are three things I hate and that is pets - all kinds - and sports - all kinds. Pick a choice of what to split and get back to me when your ovaries have dropped. - F

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