Dear Willie,
We need to
talk. I’ve known you for a few years now, and I have been overlooking a few
things for quite some time. It’s difficult for me to say this, so that’s why
I’m writing this note. I’m not even really sure that this is any of my business,
but could you PLEASE take whatever is hiding in your closet, out of your
closet. Seriously, it would mean a lot to me. The emphatic banging at random
hours of the day used to scare the shit out me, but I got used to it after a
few months. I didn’t say anything at the
time, since it’s your room, and I didn’t want to intrude on your business. The
banging stopped a few weeks ago, thank God, but now there’s this horrendous
stench coming from your room, and I assume that it’s coming from your closet. I
ignored it for as long as I could, but enough is enough. How accommodating do
you expect me to be? I don’t know what it is, but please get the contents of
your closet THE FUCK out of our apartment. I’d ask what you’re hiding, but I
don’t think I want to know. You’ve been a good roommate so far, but this is a
big black mark on your record. Take care of this, and we’ll be cool again.
Until that time, I’m going to have to prohibit your drunken masquerade parties.
At least at our place. I’m sorry, but I hope this prompts you into action.
I’m sick of this,
Tim-Bob
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