X., we know you think of us as family, so how bitter was your grief when the day came, the fateful day you always feared, the day you were forced to disown 25 percent of your household via an email?
We can only imagine your anguish at pressing the send button, informing one-quarter of your children you can no longer afford to pay an allowance for their chores.
How painful was your scalp as you pulled the hair from its roots? How bloody and swollen were your gums when you ground and gnashed your teeth? Did the nauseating putrid scent of candles pucker your nostrils as you sat cross-legged in meditation?
You poor, poor, poor, pathetic and pitiful man. Come share a drink with us:
Drop the act. Drop it.
We’re tired of watching you frown.
Have another drink on us.
Drink until you drown.