Dear Cotton Pony,
You can suck it. Suck it large.
Do you really think it's appropriate to wake me up at 6am, hoofin' me in the ol' oves?
My head aches. My gut aches. My back aches.
I take no responsibility for what you make me do.
Like the time you made me push over that bin of tomatoes at the IGA. Or empty that jar of coins down the toilet. Or stick my gum on the upside of the bus seat when I left.
It's your fault, all of it.
And would you stop trying to make me eat ice cream at every meal? You're such a jerk and you know it.
I wish I could ship you off to the glue factory.