Dear Freud,
I know you and I have a bit of a turbulent history.
But I always thought highly of your mediocre flaming ability and found your coat riding abilities to be second to none. And perhaps that led me to believe you were adapted to the abrasive nature of this game we play.
Sadly, nothing could be further from the truth.
And Regrettably it was this false assumption, which I completely now own, which caused me to stand by passively, sneering on many occasions, whenever posters like Oak would decide it was time to brutally refashion your mangina into the underside of a toilet plunger.
If only I could turn back the hands of time.
I'm a bigger person now, able to admit that yes, I enjoyed vast amounts of entertainment in the face of your misery. But that was wrong. Very wrong. As someone you looked up to I should have done more to protect you. But I did not. Instead I found myself delighted whenever you would make a grand entrance into a thread with your clinteastwood cowboy mystique only to be seen moments later rushing for the nearest exit resembling spongebob with women's undergarments around your ankles. With Oak standing by the doorpost holding a shoe in her right hand clapping it against her left.
I'll admit, I found that ridiculously funny.
But now that you're gone I don't quite feel the same about all of this.
If only I had known then, what I know now, that you are suffering secretly as a victim of invisible testicle syndrome I surely would have put an end to all these mean activities long before the great vaginal deluge which completely consumed any vestige of self respect you had left.
So now I am asking you to consider this heartfelt apology and look forward to a future where we can forge ahead as friends.
What say you?
Signed, the always lovable, Biggie Smiles
# THe tampons are free but replacing the carpet costs money.
