Hate Letter

Dear Bald One,

Okay, so this is pretty random, but...
WHO GOES TO THE BATHROOM IN THE DARK?
Honestly. Light switch. Right there....
You could just click it on.. Or not?
WHY WOULD YOU NOT TURN THE LIGHT ON.
ARE YOU NOT AWARE THAT A SERIAL KILLER IS QUITE POSSIBLY WAITING BEHIND THE SHOWER CURTAIN AND NOW HAS THE OPPORTUNITY TO KILL YOU BECAUSE YOU LEFT THE LIGHTS OFF?!
Or are you just a weirdo?
Do you like turning off the light so your other senses will be enhanced? Such as... Hearing? Or smell? Because that's kind of creepy since you're in the FLUFFING BATHROOM, YOU CREEPO.
I'm just thanking god that I knocked. Otherwise, I would have seen you on the Lou. And oh God... The horror... The horror!
I'm really getting tired of your crap. Since I'm not going to disclose your name in fear that you actually find this and my mom gets mad at me, I shall call you Tyrone.
Tyrone, you are a total jerk.
I'm a Christian, and sometimes it's hard to find words that are violent enough to show my anger.
You little flutterwidget.
Biscottibopper.
Chocolatemonger.
That one actually sounds kind of good, so don't listen to that one.
Because you aren't good enough for it.
All of the chocolatemongers of the world are better than you.

Ahem.
Anyways, I'm getting really sick of you.
Here's an example of one of the many, many reasons why:
I'm sitting at the kitchen table, doing school, like a darling child.
You come in. From work. Or whatever you do all day.
And you sit down on the couch. In the living room.
You turn on the TV. Which is RIGHT next to the kitchen opening, where I'm doing school.
You then find the most inappropriate movie you can, and watch it.
I'm forced to retreat to my bedroom and do school where my mom is sleeping. In the dark.
JerkMcTurdBucket.

There are no words to explain exactly how violent my hate is for you.
You're just a mean person, really.
I hope you starve to death in a glass house surrounded by beautiful chocolate waterfalls, and the floors are made out of lego's.
While you listen to Niki Minaj songs on repeat.
And drink nothing but lemon juice.
And your only human interaction is Kim Kardashian, who visits you once every week and complains about losing her earrings or something. Or about how she's poor. And better than other people.
But most of all, how she's better than you.

I think I've made my point.
Sincerely (hopeyoudie),
The Monkey