Well SOMEBODY Sucks

YOU SUCK

Hey jackoff, why don't you come down to my house and I'll show you where you can stuff my mailbox: up your asshole. I'm trying to find a place that's big enough to store it, and I'm thinking your cavernous butt is a great location. It works out perfectly: your head is always stuck up there anyway, so you can read my mail.

Your face is so ugly, I'm almost thankful for your fashion sense. After all, nothing can draw the eye away from an open sewer like a car wreck, and believe me, that shirt definitely qualifies. Where do you get your clothes, anyway? Do you shop at goodwill right after tourist season is over?

Hey, at least you've made one person proud! Your mom must be so grateful that you've never tried to impress anybody else in your life. It just means you're close to her.

NO, YOU SUCK
Hey buddy, nice little diatribe there. Your third grade English teacher must be so pleased that you finally learned how to read and write! And let's not forget all the people whose lives you've made better with your patronage: the porn dealers, the authors of Marmaduke, and the barons of the grease industry.

Anyway, don't worry about it. I'm sure someday you'll find someone willing to sleep with you. And by the time you do I'm sure Universal Health Care will be in place, so when you have to cure yourself of every STD at once it will be free.

Who could resist loving a little scamp like you? Besides the haircut straight out of a Michael Jackson music video, the aversion to bathing, and the inability to do anything worthwhile with your life, you're just a bundle of fun. Speaking of which, give my regards to that one kid in middle school who was willing to talk to you, if he hasn't killed himself yet.