The Neighborly Thing To Do
I was actually having a really pleasant Monday morning until I walked outside. There I found your empty wine glass and a puddle of pink puke steaming in the sun and stinking up my front step. Why so overboard on the sauce? Did that pretty wife of yours leave? Aw, is she taking the kids too? And the bank's foreclosing? Sometimes it feels like there's no place to go to drink your middle class into oblivion, doesn't it? Hmm, wait let me check something... nope, it's just as I originally thought--I don't give a damn, shitbag! Clean up your own godforsaken upchuck! I had to forge a path through it just to make my way to work, and my hose doesn't even reach all the way. So, thanks to you, I have even more puke cleanup to look forward to when I get home. I hope that $80 bottle of Bordeaux gave you a fucking hangover you won't forget. But just in case, I'll smear a bit of the slime under your driver's side door handle to remind you.