To the Asshole that Peed on My Car

I was headed to the fridge for a little late night snack when I walked past my window and saw you relieving yourself on my vehicle last night. You and you’re friends thought it was pretty funny.

Let me be the first to tell you that my turn-of-the-century Pontiac Grand Prix has a bad ass voodoo hex on it. Soon all your luck will turn for the worst. Your girlfriend will breakup with you, dumping your ass for somebody that doesn’t piss on cars, making you homeless in the process. You’ll start taking pills and drinking too much. You’ll lose your job and all your friends. You’ll be all alone in a very big and very terrifying world. You’ll eventually stab yourself in the eye with a shard of a bottle of Baby Duck and bleed to death underneath a dumpster. But not before you shrink to the size of a chronically ill cancer patient. Other homeless people and passing college kids will relieve themselves on you like you relieved yourself on my automobile.

You can look forward to a brief existence full of disappointment, shame and anguish.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

PS: It was actually me that peed on the Grand Prix…I’m really sorry. Please don’t curse me.

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To the person who found this site while searching for ‘Sorry I hurt you letters’

Hello,

I’m sorry you found this site while you needed to find a reliable source of work that could be used to patch things up. I don’t write those kinds of letters. Not for free anyway.

This brings me to a troubling topic that has been stewing in my brain for a long time. You see, the Internet strangers that visit my letters the most, are usually searching for content related to suicide. They find the open letter I wrote to reading week. It’s probably not what they are looking for.

People rarely find my site after searching for hilarious commentary on breakfast cereals or hard liquor or politics. That worries me, as I’ve put great effort towards those topics. And not suicide.

At any rate, I hope you found something amusing enough to pass on to your significant other. I’m sure you are a catch. A misunderstood catch.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy