A Letter To The Sadistic Bastard Who Stole My Innebandy Stick
A little background information:
Innebandy is a hockey-like game that is very popular here in Sweden. I believe it is called something very lame like "floorball" in English. I play innebandy once or twice a week. By no means is this for the athletic endeavour and the exercise. These games take place in the gym at a large insurance company here in Stockholm, usually my stick is left by a friend's desk there so that I don't need to take it (be seen with it) with me to the pub after the game. Two weeks ago I discovered to my dismay that someone had actually gaffled my stick from said friend's cubicle. This letter is to the perpetrator of that heinous act.
Dear heartless swine,
Dude, what the F? What kind of person are you? I mean, who is so pathetic that they would do such a thing? (Not a rhetorical question.) You don't know? Well, let me tell you. The kind of person, namely you, that would steal an innebandy stick is a complete and utter dolt, you could also say; loser, tosser, smeghead, nollare, idiot, moron, Bush-supporter, low-life scum, rebel scum, and a bunch of other adjectives that I need to save to use elsewhere in this letter. Not only do you feel the need to take someone else's possessions, you feel the need to take someone's trust and faith in the community that is Stockholm. Never before have I been the victim of any sort of crime or abuse in this city. Never. And for that I have always been happy, and have preached endlessly about the good and honest nature of Stockholmers...as compared to say the people of Camden or Newark, New Jersey. But, alas, thanks entirely to your lack of morals and intelligence, I will have to change all that. Stockholm is now the home of that arrogant ass who stole my Unihoc Air-Light 732 that I paid nearly 500SEK for (and that was when it was on sale).
Seriously, man. You make me sick. Not like a little bit sick with a wheeze and sniffle. No, you make me sick like full on malaria or ebola. The kind of sickness that wakes you up in the middle of the night hallucinating with fever and seeing spots.
So, what are we gonna do about this situation? Well, you could make a wise decision and sneakily put it back where you found it without anyone noticing or you could take the less cowardly approach and meet me in person and give me the stick and a personal apology with the aknowledgement that you are a worthless feeb. Thereupon, I will give you your reward for it's return: a personal beatdown given by yours truly. My fists on your face Charles Bronson style like in "Hard Times".
What's it gonna be then? Are you gonna give it back the easy way or the hard way? I don't really mind which you choose, although I would probably prefer the hard way so I could go all horrorshow like on your bratchny merzky grazhny gulliver and knock out all your zoobies like little Alex, if for no other reason then the fact that I have to play with the cheap low quality crap sticks that are avaiable at the gym thanks entirely to you.
You make the decision.
Until then I remain unfondly and unwillingly without my innebandy stick,
You suck big time,
K Panda
PS-I hate you. Just so you know.
