Dear Vicce,
I don't really know how to tell you this, but your nostrils are insulting. I think I realized it when you smacked my ass, under the bus and I saw you hit on my father.
I'm sure you're cowardly enough to understand that Santa doesn't exist.
I'm returning the couch cushions to you, but I'll keep your mom as a memory.
You should also know that I told my psychiatrist about the bruises and I will haunt you when I’m incarnated as an Eskimo.
Your everlasting enemy,
Riikka

...Confused?
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