This was written for Bear-kun's Message Contest.
It probably sucks, cause I'm in the epitome of the sickness of doom, right now, but oh well.
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Dear Schmuck-
Alright, look. I don’t know how much of an idiot you think I am, but I am definitely not blind. Maria said she saw you groping Brenda Cornwall today, along with about half the freaking school. How do you think that makes me feel, you little ass? What was going through your mind, exactly? “Oh, haha, Lucy’s such a twit, she’ll never know that I’m going behind her back”. Well, think again, shit-face. Consider our relationship over.
Lucy
P.S.
Remember that lingerie set you gave me last Christmas, telling me to keep it so that you could see it someday? Um, yeah. It’s on its way back to you, first-class. Give it to your little whore, she can wear it.
Lucy-
Oh God, Luce, what the hell? Do you even check your fact resources? I wasn’t groping anyone today. Brenda Cornwall wasn’t even in school today. Seriously. Just take some time to cool your head, and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?
Brannon
P.S.
Shoving letters through lockers, Lucy? Really. Don’t you think you can be a little more creative? This is what we have cell phones and texting for.
Asswipe-
You aren’t deserving of my creativity, jerk. Brenda Cornwall was in school yesterday. I checked. Your pathetic excuse for an alibi is a colossal failure. Congratulations.
Lucy
P.S.
You aren’t worth wasting cellphone minutes on.
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Lucy: Hi, you’ve reached my cell phone. I’m not available to take your call right now, so leave a message at the beep! …Unless your Brannon, and then you can burn in hell. *beep*
Brannon: Aw, c’mon, Lucy, don’t you think that’s a bit immature? Look, I really think we should sit down and talk this out, you’ve obviously misunderstood. I’ll be at the Coffee Hut tomorrow at 4:30. Drop by, please? Or else I may be forced throw pebbles at your window. *beep*
FROM: lucyfair@rocketmail.com
TO: brannonclark@rocketmail.com
SUBJECT: (None)
Okay, Ass. Now what do you have to say for yourself? I *did* drop by the Coffee Hut yesterday, at around five. I was walking in, and what do you think I saw? Your grubby paws wrapped around some waitress’s waist, who just happened to be Brenda Cornwall. Was she explaining the menu to you? Was there anything particularly *tasty* on it? And before you accuse me of “Getting my facts wrong” AGAIN, I have PROOF, Jerkwad. I took a picture with my cellphone. You can see it below. If our relationship even had a chance before, it’s gone completely down the crapper now.
Lucy
P.S. You still have my Three Days Grace CD. I want it back. You can leave it with Jessica. She’s agreed to hold off puking in your presence long enough for you to give it to her.
FROM: brannonclark@rocketmail.com
TO: lucyfair@rocketmail.com
SUBJECT: RE: (None)
Fine. Fine fine fine fucking fine, lucy. Your completely and utterly right. Happy? Bitch.
And FYI, Brenda looks sooooo much hotter in that panty set then I bet you could ever manage. You were always such a prude.
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Brannon: Yo, you’ve reached my cell. Not here to talk, so leave a message at the beep. *beep*
Lucy: You are such a freaking ‘tard, Brannon. You know that, right? Of course not. Your head’s too freaking thick for your brain to even grasp that concept. Anyway, I’ll have you know that just because I have moral values, that does not make me a prude. Just because Brenda Cornwall is turning into a Walking STD doesn’t mean I have to drop my standards to please some asshole such as yourself. I can’t believe you would even think I would consider such a- *beep*
Lucy-
Baby, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to blow up at you like that…… y’know, heat of the moment stuff. Could we meet today and talk it over? Please?
-Brannon
Darling Brannon-
Burn in hell.
-(So not) Your Lucy
